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thewritingrowlet · 6 months ago

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The Outing Trip pt. 1, ft. tripleS Xinyu

tags: daddy kink, anal teasing, creampie, praise kink (just a bit), rough

tw: violence (OC takes a punch in the face, nothing crazy I promise)

word count: 12k+

author's note: this is the first part of a small series (4 parts max.) inspired by an anon's idea of a university outing trip (minus the "stranded in an island due to a storm with a bunch of girls" part) featuring a handful of tripleS members. This part also mentions Yooyeon, Nakyoung, Dahyun, and Chaeyeon as I consider them to be candidates to be featured in future parts.

p.s. after I finish writing part 2 of this series, I'm gonna stop writing about tripleS members for one or two fics. Let me know if you think there's anyone (who is over the age of 18 in May 2024) that needs attention (be it bcs they're from a less-popular group, or bcs they only debuted recently and you're a fan, etc).

It is now September. The hot summer days are starting to go and be replaced by the chiller and refreshing days of shorter daylight that autumn usually has in its bag. September is also the month where every single student organization in the university goes on outings to welcome their new members. That includes the student council that you’re the president of. You’re having a meeting with a bunch of council staffs and governors—the term your university uses to refer to council leaders on the faculty level because the university wants to replicate real-world governmental structure—in about 10 minutes to talk about details about the outing itself. Everyone will be wearing their uniform, which is a sight you find to be cute.

“President-oppa!”, you hear a girl’s voice behind you as you’re walking to the meeting place, so you turn around to see who it is. You see Xinyu, the council’s vice president who also happens to be your lovely girlfriend, walking like a supermodel towards you. “Hey, princess”, you greet her before taking her hand and pecking it. Xinyu loves it when you do those two things (call her “princess” and kiss her hand), blushing every time she sees you do it. You, on the other hand, don’t really care if her fondness of praises is a sign of narcissism because no one can tell you she doesn't deserve such treatment. You also don’t really care about displaying affection in public—why wouldn’t you want to show affection to your perfect-in-every-aspect girlfriend all the time? It also serves as an announcement that both you and Xinyu are off-limits since the relationship is not a secret.

“O-oppa”, she looks down at her shoes to hide the red hue on her cheeks, “you always do these sweet things to me”. You wrap an arm around her waist, “because you deserve it, sweetie”. She twiddles her index fingers in shyness, “but my heart can only take so much of it in a day, oppa”. “Skill issue, baby”, you chuckle—how adorable is it that you’ve been dating her for over a year and living together in an apartment for almost as long and she still gets overwhelmed with your sweet gestures and words?

“Xinyu-yah”, you throw a lifebuoy to save her from drowning in her own thoughts, “we need to get to get there fast, baby; there’s only a few minutes left and we’re the last people who get to be late”. You take her hand and start running, making Xinyu yell in surprise and possibly turn some people’s heads. You stop running when you’re in front of the elevator and press the button to go up. It’s nice that the elevator doesn’t have a CCTV in it, because you can share a bit of intimacy with Xinyu by pecking her on the lips and forcing a blush once again—her poor heart is guaranteed to give out by the end of the day. “Oppa, I really can’t take much of this anymore”, Xinyu complains. “Of course you can, what are you talking about?”, you laugh. You and Xinyu need to put on a serious face soon, though, as the elevator doors are opening, and you’ll be met with people outside.

“I thought you two were going to be late, not gonna lie”, Nakyoung, Xinyu’s best friend and fellow council member, greets you at the doors of the auditorium. “Do you really think that low of us, Nakyoung-ah?”, Xinyu protests. Nakyoung laughs, “not really, no—just thought maybe you ran off on a date or something”. Xinyu pinches Nakyoung’s cheeks in annoyance, making a small scene in front of a bunch of council members. You shake your head in amusement, “alright, that’s enough, kids. Is everyone here, Nakyoung-ah?”. “Almost; the Faculty of Medicine’s governor will be late. She’s still assisting in a lab and said you can start without her”, Nakyoung explains before taking you and Xinyu’s hands and pulling the both of you into the auditorium. You look at the clock hanging on the wall and see that you’re perfectly on time—perfectly calculated, if you say so yourself.

“Good afternoon, governors. Thank you for taking the time for today’s little meeting”, you take the center spot on the stage. You sometimes wonder why you talk and act like this in front of fellow students but since the university wants this to be as authentic of an experience as possible, you can’t help but play along. “This is September, and you guys know what it means: we need to welcome the new members of our councils on both the university and faculty level. Would someone kindly kick us off and report their preparation progress?”, you see the Faculty of Science’s governor, Kim Yooyeon, raise her hand so you step to the side and let her take your spot on the stage.

She starts presenting the things she and her members have done to prepare, such as consulting with the dean, surveying the area she wants to go to, and calculating the cost of the entire thing. You admire her thoroughness and ability to think ahead—the girl students call the goddess isn’t just known for her looks, but also sharpness of mind. Just one thing, though: she doesn’t like attention, as shown by the way she jogs back to her seat while partially covering her face after she’s done talking. “Thank you, Yooyeon-ah—oh, hello, Jiwoo-yah!”, you greet Son Jiwoo, the aforementioned governor from the Faculty of Medicine who just entered the room. “Hi, hello”, she rushes to her seat, “sorry for being late, I was needed in the lab”. “No, you’re fine, sweetie. Let’s continue, though”, your over-friendliness spills out and Xinyu glares at you from her seat, but you miss it since you don’t have eyes on the back of your head.

One governor after the other takes turns to present their plans; some have come up with elaborate plans, while others have simpler ideas as to how to welcome their new members. Once everyone is done presenting their plans, you wrap up the meeting (not without expressing appreciation to everyone) and let them go so that they can go about the rest of their day. Yooyeon stays behind, probably because she has some things to discuss with the three of you. “Hey, guys”, she approaches slowly, “I want to talk about something, but can we get out of here first? This auditorium keeps reminding me of some of my hardest days”. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way, unnie”, Nakyoung says before suggesting another idea, “are you guys free, by the way? We can talk over some food if you are—oppa will pay since he’s the richest among us”.

Nakyoung and Yooyeon walk side-by-side while holding hands, while you and Xinyu walk behind them with your hands intertwined. Xinyu then slows down her steps, creating a decent gap between Nakyoung and Yooyeon. “Oppa”, she tugs your hand, a hint of sadness in her voice, “you.. you’re not interested in Jiwoo-unnie, are you?”. Her question catches you off guard, “Jiwoo-unnie? Son Jiwoo? No, of course not. Why?”. “You, um, were a little too friendly with her earlier—I mean, she is pretty, so I understand”, she sulks. You try to recount what happened during the meeting, and you realize that you called her “sweetie”—that pet name is supposed to be reserved for Xinyu only. You instantly feel a huge wave of guilt at the realization, “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise you it was nothing but a slip up”. She lets go of your hand and hugs the clipboard she’s holding with both arms, “please don’t do that again. I-I didn’t like it”, she says.

She refuses to hold your hand for the rest of the walk, and that’s a hint the size of a mountain that you’ve fucked up and you’ll need to make it up to your princess. You finally arrive at the student-favorite noodle spot after a few minutes of walking. It’s not too packed since most students are in class, considering what time it is. Nakyoung joins your group after ordering for everyone. Yooyeon sits across Nakyoung, so that leaves Xinyu no option but to sit across you. Only when she sits down can you see her teary eyes, “you fucked up and now you’re in trouble, son”, your heart says. “Okay, unnie, we’re here. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”, Nakyoung says. Yooyeon scratches the back of her head, “oh, um, I actually just wanted to hang out with you guys. You seem to be a fun trio to be around”. You chuckle, “yeah, that’s fine, we were getting food regardless. Welcome to the fold, I guess”. You arrange your words more carefully this time because you don’t want to fuck things up even further.

You’re now standing at the bus stop after the meal, still surrounded by your friends. “So, what now?”, you ask. Nakyoung, oblivious to your situation with Xinyu, throws her idea into the ring, “let’s go to your place, oppa. I really wanna lay down on that gloriously soft and fluffy sofa of yours”. You glance at Xinyu, who doesn’t seem to hate the idea, and nod in agreement to the idea, “yeah, we can do that. What about you, Yooyeon-ah? You have other classes after this?”. “N-no, ca-can I join you again? I-I don’t have many friends, you see”, Yooyeon hides her face behind her hands after saying that—you never knew a goddess could be so shy around people and have so few friends, but here you are. “Alright, let’s get on that bus so that we don’t have to walk to the parking lot”, you point to the approaching yellow campus bus—the off-site parking lot is not too far but you just can’t be assed to walk at the moment.

Doesn’t take long for the bus to arrive and take the four of you to the parking lot. You lead them to your car and Yooyeon makes a comment when she sees it, “nice car, Jisung-ah”. “I’m telling you, Jisung-oppa is rich, unnie. Daddy and mommy’s money, right, oppa?”, Nakyoung chimes in to tease you—this mischievous cat never runs out of ideas to tease her friends. “Well, when you put it like that”, you say. You’re never one to brag about your wealth, so you simply thank Yooyeon for the compliment and unlock the car so that your friends can get in. Xinyu gets in the front passenger seat like usual while the other two sit in the middle row.

You’re now out of the parking lot and on the way back to your apartment. “I need to stop at a convenience store, sorry. I need to buy something”, you say to your friends. “I bet he’s buying condoms”, Nakyoung chirps. Xinyu is probably not too entertained with what Nakyoung is suggesting, but they tease each other like that all the time. “I promise you I’m not”, you say as you pull into the driveway of the convenience store. “You guys do it raw, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung lets out a fake surprise gasp at the end. “Kim Nakyoung, I promise I will throw you out the window of our apartment if you keep teasing me”, Xinyu says. “Look at them, unnie; they live together and have unprotected sex all the time”, Nakyoung turns to Yooyeon, who hides her face behind her palms again. You roll your eyes and get out of the car—you just want to get Xinyu’s favorite chocolate and snacks, it is not supposed to be this difficult, ever.

You finally arrive at your building after a short drive from the university. You hop off the car and walk in front, and would you look at that: Xinyu is wrapping a hand around your arm and leaning her head against your shoulder; “glad you’re feeling better, baby. I’m so sorry for being an ass”, you whisper to her. “I can’t stay mad at you for long, oppa, you know this”, Xinyu whispers back. Nakyoung is used to seeing your public display of affection, but Yooyeon, who is hanging out with your bunch for the first time, is not; she’s probably looking away so that she doesn't have to see this. You walk to the elevator and continue to your unit followed by the three girls, until you finally arrive at the door. Xinyu does the honors and unlocks the door before running into the bedroom. “Welcome to our little apartment, girls. Please make yourself at home”, you stand to the side and let them in. Nakyoung, as she has promised earlier, runs straight to your sofa and lies down on it, “Little apartment, my ass—oh my God, it’s so comfortable; this thing must be mad expensive. Unnie, come here, what are you doing?”, she invites Yooyeon who’s standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You can go with her, Yooyeon-ah. Please, make yourself comfortable”, you encourage her.

You then make your way to the bedroom to follow Xinyu and close the door behind you, you see that she has ditched her shirt for a white sleeveless tee that fits her perfect body like a bespoke glove. “I know you bought me snacks. Show me where they are or I will, I will—what’s a good one—not kiss you for the rest of the day”, she knows she can’t threaten you to save her life, so she must improvise to make herself sound scary. You chuckle and fish a bar of chocolate and a bunch of chips out of the bag, “for you, princess”. “Oh my God, chocolate too?! Thank you, oppa, you’re the best!”, she happily accepts your tribute and rips open a bag of chips. You peck the girl who’s munching so enthusiastically on the forehead, “anything for you, love. My world is dark without you”. Xinyu blushes at your words, “I can say the same about you, oppa. You know that right?”. You open your mouth to answer her, but that’s when you hear a knock on the door. “Oppa, Xinyu-yah, are you guys done having sex? Yooyeon-unnie wants to talk”, Nakyoung says from the other side of the door.

Xinyu rushes out of the bedroom and flicks Nakyoung’s forehead, “we were not having sex, God damn it!”. You follow Xinyu out of the bedroom and head to the dining table, “play nice, girls. Come, we can talk here”, you call out to your friends. Yooyeon joins you on the table, followed by Xinyu and Nakyoung who have broken their little scuffle. “Before we start”, you poke Xinyu on the shoulder, “order some pizza for us, sweetie. We can get your favorite”. Xinyu runs back to the bedroom to get her phone and order her favorite pizza—food is truly the bullet train to her heart (and pants but we’ll save that for later). She high-steps her way to the table to join you, seemingly excited at the prospect of having her favorite pizza. She stops next to you and pecks you on the cheek, “I love you”, she says. “I love you more, sweetie. Sit, please”, you pull a chair for her. Nakyoung sighs, “I know you just joined us, unnie, but I guarantee that you’ll get tired of seeing these two act like this very soon”. “Oh, uh, I personally find it cute, actually. I’m happy for them; I hope I can experience that myself one day”, Yooyeon confesses before looking away.

“It’s nothing crazy, really”, Yooyeon starts, “I was just curious about your council’s plans to welcome the new members of your own. I-I was thinking maybe I discuss it if that’s okay with you guys”. Xinyu gets excited hearing those words, “of course, unnie. We would love that”. “Can you tell me a summary first?”, Yooyeon says. You tell her how you and Xinyu plan to do a 3-day trip to the nearby island that also happens to be a famous tourism destination. Nakyoung helps explain the schedule and agendas that she and another council member have come up with. Lastly, Xinyu explains other details such as logistics, methods of transportation, and accommodation; “we are prohibiting alcohol for this trip, by the way. The last thing we need is some drunk freshmen fucking things up”, she adds. “How do you plan to do that, exactly?”, Yooyeon inquires. “Well, I called the manager of the accomodation and specifically and precisely asked them to not sell anyone from our group alcohol and to notify ask should someone try”, Xinyu explains.

Yooyeon gets up from her seat and asks for your permission to get water, so you tell her to get some from the dispenser in the kitchen. She then gets back in her seat and starts talking again. “So, president, vice president, and—what are you again?”, Yooyeon turns to Nakyoung, who lets out a frustrated grunt, “Oh, God damn it—I’m the secretary and the third wheel to the president and vice president. Remember that, please”. “Right, sorry”, Yooyeon clears her throat, “The reason I wanted to talk to you guys is because I have some potential candidates that might be able to join you guys in the council at the university level”. “Okay, go on”, you encourage her to keep talking. “They initially wanted to join us at the faculty, but we couldn’t accept them simply because we were full. I was thinking that maybe these two can thrive under your flag instead”. “Names, unnie?”, Nakyoung asks as she pulls out her phone to write their names. “Seo Dahyun, born in ‘03, and Kim Chaeyeon, born in ‘04”, Yooyeon says, “Dahyun had to retake the SAT for the second time; that’s why it took her a bit longer to get here, but that fact doesn’t take anything away from her, I assure you”.

Yooyeon obviously knows these people better than anyone in the room, since she knows them and has interviewed them personally, so the three of you decide to trust her perception of them. Xinyu arranges an interview for each of them tomorrow at noon—no precise time yet since you’ll need to confirm their schedules with each of them. Yooyeon gives Nakyoung their numbers and she starts hitting them up on CocoaSpeak. “One more thing, Jisung-ah”, she looks at you, “I want to be in the room where it happens”. “Sure, you can be there with us for the interview”, you say to her. “Won’t that be too intimidating?”, Xinyu utters her concern. Yooyeon shakes her head in disagreement, “these two don’t get intimidated easily, they’ll be fine”.

You hear a buzz from the door, so you ask Xinyu to get the pizza from the delivery guy. You make sure to pay attention to the exchange because Xinyu has had a bad experience with a degenerate delivery guy who thought that she was attractive and decided to take his 1-in-a-billion chance. You understand that you can take the pizza yourself but letting her do it helps Xinyu overcome her trauma as she knows that you have her back. Xinyu slams the door a bit too roughly and runs back towards the dining table. “I present to you, the Zhou Xinyu Special!”, she opens the box and puts it down on the table. Yooyeon keeps staring at the large pizza on the table in confusion, until Nakyoung notices and pokes her in the arm to get her attention, “it’s a pizza with ground beef, pepperoni, mushroom, and extra cheese, unnie—they use a lot of cheese, hence the pie-like visual”. “Ah, I see”, Yooyeon nods after hearing the explanation.

You take a slice from the box and start eating, followed by the three girls. “I’ve eaten this pizza so often, but it still amazes me every time. You really know your way around food, don’t you, Xinyu-yah?”, Nakyoung remarks. “Of course, food is the second thing I love the most in this world after oppa”, Xinyu says before exclaiming at the taste of her favorite pizza. “I love you too”, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before pecking Xinyu on the cheek. Xinyu blushes after hearing your words and receiving a peck, as she tries to hide her face behind the slice of pizza in her hand. “You two are so cute”, Yooyeon comments, not helping Xinyu overcome the heat on her cheeks.

The four of you start talking about a bunch of topics, from how Yooyeon initially wanted to join the university’s council but got rejected, how Nakyoung met Yooyeon for the first time and thought that she was a cold and scary person, and, at Yooyeon’s request, how you and Xinyu started dating. You explain that you had known Xinyu for a while as a fellow member of the council during freshman year but only admired her from afar. The two of you were then placed in the same group for a community service project the president at the time had come up with. “Xinyu was crying alone after the first day because of how exhausting and hard it was, so I mustered up the courage to approach her and offered to take her to dinner because I always hate seeing a girl cry, no matter what reason she might have. I actually was so scared that she would push me away instead of taking my offer”, you explain to the small crowd in front of you. It’s now Xinyu’s time to tell her side of the story; “I saw how kind oppa really is behind his rich guy façade; he was super helpful and attentive to everyone that day and there was no way I would’ve pushed him away—I wanted him for myself”. Xinyu leans against your shoulder before continuing her speech, “After our first time having sex, he revealed that I was his first and all I could think about was how I hoped he had been my first as well—I’m so sorry, oppa”. You squeeze her hand, “there’s nothing to be sorry for, love. You’re here with me now”.

Everyone has dispersed from the dining table and is now in their own worlds. Yooyeon is looking at notes on her tablet, Nakyoung is lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, Xinyu is chilling in the bedroom, and you’re sitting on the toilet with your phone in hand. You’re mindlessly scrolling through social media until you see a notification from Xinyu. It’s a picture of her lying in bed in her pajamas with one of the dolls you bought for her. “How cute”, you think to yourself. She sees that you’re not replying to her, so she expresses her unhappiness, “>: say something already”. “I’m busy, bby”, you reply to her before flushing the toilet and cleaning your ass. You’re on your way to the bathroom door as it swings open seemingly on its own. Xinyu barges into the bathroom and locks the door behind her. She puts her hands on your chest and pushes you to the wall, “if you won’t give me the attention I want, I’ll get it myself”. She pulls your shorts and boxers down together as she kneels in front of you, making your cock spring out of its restraints instantly.

“We could’ve done so much more had you given me the attention I wanted”, she’s doing her best to instill regret and guilt in your heart. Her hand is wrapped around your cock tightly and you don’t want to make her mad even more because you don’t want her to break your cock. “P-princess, they’re still here. We can do this later”, you persuade her. “I don’t care, they can go suck cock if they want”, she says before taking you in her mouth. The wetness and warmth of Xinyu’s mouth sends shivers down your spine. You dare hold her hair in your hand as she bobs her head up and down your shaft while gagging every now and then. “P-princess”, you mutter before moaning, “you’re so good, baby”. She instantly removes you from her mouth and squeezes your cock, “stay quiet if you want to make it out of this alive”. “Oh, fuck—I’m-I’m sorry, please don’t break my penis”, you say to the angry-but-horny girl kneeling in front of you.

She accepts your apology for now and gets back to stuffing her face with your cock. You don’t want to upset her considering how vulnerable you are at the moment, so you do nothing but moan. She removes your cock from her mouth once again when she feels it twitch in her mouth, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. You take a deep breath before ‘asking nicely’, “please let me cum, princess”. “Not good enough, but I’ll take it for now”, she says before letting you in her mouth once again. It doesn’t take long until your cum is accumulated on the tip of your cock. Xinyu knows this, so she goes deeper until she reaches the base of your cock. “I’m cum-ming”, you say with heavy breaths, “princess, please”. Your cock blows a load as soon as you say that, and Xinyu tries her best to not let a drop leak out of her mouth.

You lean back against the wall to catch your breath, feeling drained—quite literally—by Xinyu’s little stunt. You look down at Xinyu who is still on her knees, and you see her gulp down your load into her stomach. “Xinyu, baby”, you say with heavy pants, “thank you, that was really good”. “Of course, oppa. I love you—I’ll drain your soul the next time you ignore me, though”, she rises to her feet and wipes her mouth before pecking your cheek. “Now how do we get out of this place?”, you ask her for ideas. “Just walk out, we’re adults”, she shrugs. You do as she suggested and walk out of the bathroom as casually as possible. Yooyeon sees the two of you walking out together and covers her face with some papers. You see Xinyu give her a wink and gesture to her to stay quiet.

Xinyu then walks to the sofa and poke Nakyoung in the arm, “Naky-yah, are you staying the night or what?”. Nakyoung wakes up slowly from her peaceful nap on your sofa, “hngh, what time is it?”. You look at the clock above the TV, “about 7.30 pm”, you tell the sleepy cat. Nakyoung rises and walks to the fridge like a zombie, “I’m tempted to stay but I imagine you two want some private time”, she says. You can tell that her playfulness hasn’t returned to her entirely, as shown by how she hasn’t bantered or teased anyone yet. She takes a few gulps of fridge-cold water out of her bottle—she visits your apartment a lot so a few months ago she decided to leave a bottle in your fridge so that she wouldn’t drink from one of yours—and turns to you, “did you guys have fun when I was asleep?”. Xinyu answers her right away with confidence, “I did—I don’t know about oppa, though”, she says, hinting at sex. Nakyoung smirks as she walks back to the sofa, “if you had fun, then so did oppa, most likely”.

Nakyoung spends another 30 minutes lying on your sofa while on her phone, while Yooyeon is still busy with studying. “Unnie, I think we should leave soon”, she says to the studying goddess as she gets up. “Hm? Oh, yeah, sure”, Yooyeon says as she starts tidying up her papers and tablet. Nakyoung takes Yooyeon’s hand and walks to the door with her. “Thank you for the hospitality, you two”, Yooyeon bows slightly and waves at you and Xinyu. “You should hang out with us more, Yooyeon-ah. See you at the interview— byeee”, you say as they exit the door and close it behind them.

Seeing that the coast is now clear, Xinyu runs to you and jumps at you, so you catch her with both arms. “I’m tired, oppa. Take me to bed, please”, she says with a cute whiny voice. You peck her temple and carry her to the bed as requested. You set Xinyu on the bed with you on top of her body, and she immediately wraps her long limbs around your body. “Stay, please”, she says, acting cute to convince you to do what she wants, “I can feel you poking me down there, by the way”. It’s not that you’re horny, it’s just that you’re long—almost too long, “I’m sorry, sweetie”. “I’m horny and tired at the same time, which one do I choose, oppa?”, she pinches your cheek playfully. “I suggest sleeping, love. I don’t know if I have another load for you and I would hate to disappoint”, you kiss her forehead apologetically. “Hmph you’re no fun, oppa, but I love you so I’ll listen to you”, Xinyu pouts and lets you go from her strangling limbs.

It is now Friday. You and the usual suspects will be interviewing the candidates that Yooyeon told you about a few days ago. Nakyoung gave each candidate freedom to choose the place of the interview, and they both chose the multipurpose meeting room in the library building, so now you and Xinyu make your way to the appointed place—one problem, though: there’s quite a commotion in front of the meeting room. “You’re holding an interview, aren’t you? I know you are. Why aren’t you letting me in?”, the guy is shouting at Nakyoung who’s holding the line at the door. You see that Nakyoung is in deep distress, but you want to observe the situation a little bit more before jumping in. That is when you see the guy lay his hands on Nakyoung, which you’re not a fan of—Xinyu’s friends are your friends, and you’re not letting harm come their way. “Listen to her and just leave, man. We’ll pretend this never happened”, you say with a serious voice and grab him by the shoulder.

Surprisingly, the guy thinks that it’s a good idea to get violent and punches you in the face as he turns around, “SHUT THE FUCK UP”, he yells out. Nothing could’ve prepared you for a punch in the face, so you took a few steps back in surprise. Xinyu rushes to your aid in panic while screaming, “oh my God, oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Somebody, get security!”. “Holy shit, you’re so fucked”, Nakyoung says to the guy, who only now figured out who he just punched, “out of all the people present, you chose to punch the president—absolutely incredible. You still expect us to accept you after seeing you act like this? We will make your life miserable for this, by the way; we don’t forget”. The guy approaches you slowly in fear, “I-I’m so sorry, sunbaenim, I don’t know what got into me. Are you okay?”. You sigh in disappointment, not because you just took a punch in the face, but because someone thought it was okay to be violent, especially on campus grounds. “I suggest finding a lawyer”, you say, angriness obvious in your voice. He kneels and bows in front of you to beg for forgiveness, “no, no, please. I’m so sorry. I’ve learned my lesson, sunbaenim, please”. You hear the boots of the security guards approaching, so you say your last piece to the brat, “you have not, but you will soon”.

Once you see that the security guards have control of the situation, you leave the scene and forcefully drag Xinyu and Nakyoung by their wrists into the room. “Op-oppa, you’re hurting me; please let go”, Nakyoung tries to pry your fingers off her wrist. You didn’t realize that you were holding their hands so tightly, so you let them go and apologize. “Thank you for saving me, guys”, Nakyoung sobs as she hugs Xinyu for comfort, “he-he was so adamant, and I got so scared”. “I’m glad he decided to punch me and not one of you”, you sigh, “where is Yooyeon, by the way?”. “I’m here”, Yooyeon says as she closes the door behind her, “what just happened? Why are there security guards?”. “Someone thought it was a good idea to punch Jisung-oppa”, Xinyu explains to the confused girl. Yooyeon shakes her head and sighs, “are you okay, Jisung-ah?”. You rub the spot where the punch landed and reply to her, “I’ll be fine—it hurts, though”.

You take a few minutes to catch your breath and process everything that just happened while Xinyu, Yooyeon, and Nakyoung brief each other about the upcoming interview. You soon hear some knocks on the door and a girl peeks into the room, “excuse me, we’re here for the interview”. “Oh, hello, you guys must be Dahyun and Chaeyeon”, Nakyoung greets them and lets them in. Dahyun gasps in surprise when she sees your face, “oh God, what happened to you, sunbaenim? Why is there a bruise on your face?”. “We can talk about that as we go. Please, have a seat and stop calling me and everyone else in this room ‘sunbaenim’. We’ll interview you guys at the same time, I hope that’s okay”, you gesture to the empty chairs on the round table, and they take a seat in them. “So, there’s something I need to explain before we start”, you start the conversation, “you guys are here because Governor Kim over here recommended that you be considered to be recruited into the university council because her faculty council is full”. They turn to Yooyeon and express their appreciation to her, which makes Yooyeon smile in shyness.

You take the first turn to ask them a bunch of questions, from what makes them interested in joining the council, what they think the council should be for students and the surrounding community, and if they’ll interested in becoming the president in the future. They answer each question with some of the best answers you’ve ever heard in your term as president, and you can tell that everyone in the room is impressed and is starting to like them. Xinyu and Nakyoung then take turns asking them questions of their own while Yooyeon opts to observe and listen in silence.

Once they’re done asking questions and getting answers, it’s the recruits’ turn to ask questions. Dahyun kicks off the session by asking you about your wound, “can I ask what happened to your face, oppa?”. “You can, Dahyun-ah”, you sigh, “someone punched me in the face after screaming at Nakyoung-ie because she didn’t let him join the interview—disappointing behavior, if you ask me”. Xinyu moves to you in her chair and grabs your hand, “are you actually pressing charges, oppa? I would love it if you did—no one gets to punch my boyfriend like that”. “He’s your boyfriend, unnie?”, Chaeyeon asks the vice president. Xinyu brings a palm to her forehead, “oh, right, I forgot that you’re not in our circle yet—yes, he is, and I love him and I hate seeing him get hurt. We’ll go get some ointment after this, oppa, okay?”. “The president and vice president are dating, unnie. Are we in a drama right now?”, Chaeyeon turns to Dahyun, who lets out a giggle.

The six of you spend more time getting to know each other better as individuals, and you can tell again that everyone is really interested in having them join the council and this small circle of yours. Nakyoung explicitly tells them about it; “I know we only met today but I know that everyone here likes the two of you, so I sincerely ask you to consider joining our little friend group once you’re formally accepted as members of the council. Your cute little governor here is also with us, by the way”, she says—the way she’s saying it makes it sound like it’s a circle of nepotism with leading figures of the council and a bunch of new recruits. Dahyun shyly accepts the invitation, “we would love that, unnie. Thank you for being so kind to juniors like us”.

The interview is now done, and you find yourself surrounded by 5 girls outside the library. “Oppa, I’m hungry. Can we get lunch?”, Xinyu tugs your hand. “We can, sweetie. Wanna invite the others as well?”, you reply to her. Xinyu turns to the others, “guys, we’re gonna go get lunch, wanna join us?”. Nakyoung and Yooyeon obviously nod in agreement, but Dahyun and Chaeyeon are hesitant. “You two can join us as well, no need to be shy. We’re your friends, just a bit older in age”, you say to them. Chaeyeon answers for herself and Dahyun, “we would love that, oppa, if that’s okay with you”. Nakyoung pinches Chaeyeon’s cheeks playfully, “we’re friends, God damn it. Start acting accordingly, will you?”. You lead them to your car that’s parked in the campus’ parking lot—the parking lot is not as packed on Fridays since the professors are usually doing other stuff off campus, and you managed to find one because you arrived early. Chaeyeon makes a comment when she sees your car, “OF COURSE HE’S RICH—oh my God, I’m so sorry, oppa”. You chuckle at her comment, “it’s okay, I’ve heard that a lot before. Come on, let’s get in”.

You find yourself sailing the slow sea of Friday afternoon traffic, thankfully it’s not as bad as usual. “Does anyone have any idea where we should go?”, you ask the crowd in your car. Dahyun raises her hands after mustering up as much confidence as she can, “can we go get burgers, oppa? There’s a good burger shop nearby—if-if everyone else agrees, that is”. Xinyu is the most excited one at the prospect, “we sure can, I looove burgers. Drive faster, oppa!”. You laugh at her words, “just admit that you love everything, sweetie”.

Dahyun wasn’t lying when she said it was near, as you are now parked in front of an alleyway where the burger shop is. “We’ve been students for so long, but we’ve never heard about this shop once”, you remark. Dahyun shyly confesses to the group, “Th-this place is my parents’, oppa. I-I wanted to promote my parents’ business since they only opened recently, I’m sorry”. Xinyu rushes to hug Dahyun from the side, “awww, how cute. You’re such a good daughter, Dahyun-ah”. Dahyun hides her face behind her palms before replying to Xinyu, “you’re so kind, unnie”. “Now you know why people fall for her, Dahyun-ah”, you say, bragging about your lovely girlfriend to your new friend.

Dahyun leads you into the shop and runs towards the cashier to hug the lady attending it. “Everyone, this is my mom, you can call her Mrs. Seo—duh. Mom, this the council’s president, vice president, secretary, and governor—obviously you know Chaeyeon already. We just became friends today”, she introduces everyone to her mom by pointing at you one by one. “Aigoo, you brought your friends, Dahyun-ah? Welcome, kids—oh my God, what happened to your face? Also, you don’t need to pay today since you’re Dahyun’s friends”, Dahyun’s mom says to your group. You don’t want to not pay, considering how much your friends eat and the fact that your friend’s parents own the place; “It’s a bit of a long story, madam. We would hate to not pay; we eat a lot, you see”, you try to convince her mom. “Okay but promise us you’ll come back. Now what can I get for you?”, Mrs. Seo asks you. You turn to Dahyun, who most likely knows what’s best here, “you have any recommendations, Dahyun-ah?”. “I mean, I think everything is good but I’m very biased”, she giggles.

Since this is your first time here, you decide to choose whatever catches your fancy, which happens to be a double cheeseburger with portobella mushroom and beef bacon. Everyone else then takes turns to order before leaving to find a place to sit together. Mrs. Seo tells you to join two tables together since they only have 4 chairs each, so you do as she says. While you wait, you decide to talk with your friends—you know, like friends do.

It takes about 20 minutes for the food to come out, not bad at all considering how big of an order it was. Mrs. Seo calls out to Dahyun to help carry the food to your table, so she stands up and heads to the kitchen to help. You see the visuals of each thing on the trays, and you can’t help but drool at the sight. “Holy sh—excuse my language—that looks so good!”, Nakyoung shows her enthusiasm to the food. You see that Yooyeon, who usually shows little emotions, has an excited face as well, and it brings joy to Mrs. Seo. “You are such sweet kids. I’m glad Dahyun can be friends with you”, she says. “The pleasure is ours, madam. Dahyun is such a sweet girl as well”, Xinyu says.

Dahyun and her mom set the trays on the table, and everyone jumps to get their stuff right away. Nakyoung is the first to take a bite, and she exclaims in excitement immediately, “oh my God, this is incredible—Mrs. Seo, this is amazing!”. “Omo, I’m so glad you like it”, she says before putting a big squeeze bottle on the table, “try this with the fries, will you? We’ve been developing a sauce recipe and would love to hear some feedback—Chaeyeon-ie has tried this before so she knows already”. Xinyu squeezes the sauce on a piece of fry and shoves it in her mouth, “oh my, that is glorious. What sauce is this, Mrs. Seo? Oppa, try this, quick!”. You take the bottle from Xinyu’s hands and do the same thing she did, and you instantly let out a satisfied groan thanks to the taste. “it’s minced garlic, chives, and white pepper mixed with mayonnaise and a little bit of my husband’s hot sauce—you know, you two look so cute together; have you considered dating?”, she explains. “They are indeed dating, madam”, Nakyoung answers for you with a laugh like the spokesperson that she often is. Mrs. Seo gasps, “oh, that’s so cute. Alright, I’m gonna stop bothering you guys—enjoy!”.

No one says anything for the rest of the meal as they savor every glorious bite of their food, letting out excited yelps and satisfied groans at the incredible taste. “Dahyun-ah”, you say after swallowing a bite, “would your parents be interested in getting some investment?”. “Look at him, flexing his wealth in front of his junior”, Nakyoung says. Dahyun’s eyes widen at your unexpected question, “I-I’ll need to ask my parents”, she says. “Can you please ask now? I’m curious what they’d say”, you push further. Dahyun sips her drink before running to the cashier and dragging his mom back to the table. “Mom, mom, president-oppa wants to invest in us!”, Dahyun excitedly says to her mom. Mrs. Seo’s turns her head to you in surprise, “do you actually?”. “I do, madam”, you say, as humble sounding as possible, “I think you can do great things with this business, hence my interest”. “I, I”, you see tears gathering in Mrs. Seo’s eyes, “thank you for the kind words, son. Yes, we would love to get an investment—what are the terms, though?”. “My family’s treasurer will reach out to your family in less than 7 business days, madam. You can discuss the terms with her—I’ll make sure it’s more favorable to you than me”, you say to her. “Please stand up, son”, Mrs. Seo says to you, so you do as she says. She hugs you warmly as she’s shedding (you hope) happy tears, “thank you so much, son; it means a lot to our family. How rich are you that your family has a treasurer, though?”. You answer her question with the answer your parents have taught you since you were a kid, “we are comfortable, madam”. She lets go of the hug and wipes her eyes, “I gotta call my husband; this is crazy! Dahyun-ah, isn’t this crazy?”. Dahyun bows to you, “thank you so much, oppa. We won’t forget your kindness”. You’re surprised to see her bow to you, so you grab her shoulders and make her straighten her back, “oh, c’mon, there’s no need to act like that”.

You excuse yourself and head to the back alley behind the shop to call your family’s treasurer, Mrs. Kwon Yuri. She picks up immediately after one ring, “Good afternoon, Mr. Jung. Can I help you?”. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kwon”, you greet her, “I’m planning to make an investment in a burger shop owned by my friend’s family. Can you please handle it for me? I’ll send you their number after this”. Mrs. Kwon stays silent for a few seconds, but you hear her keyboard clacking over the phone, “I can, Mr. Jung; I will reach out to them in two days”. You feel a wave of relief in your heart, “sounds great, Mrs. Kwon. Be sure to make it favorable for them, please—5 or 10 percent is fine. Thanks for the help”. You send her their number after hanging up and with it, your investment will soon be confirmed, and they’ll get a small boost to grow their business.

Unbeknownst to you, Xinyu has been hiding around the corner waiting for you to end the call. She runs to you when she hears you hang up the phone and hugs you tightly. “My God, that is so sexy, oppa”, she says. “What is, baby?”, you say, unsure about what she’s referring to. “The fact that you’re willing to use your money to help someone else. I know it’s probably spare change for you but it’s still meaningful”, she looks at you straight in the eyes as her hands are on each side of your head. ”I was just trying to help, it’s not like they don’t deserve it—I mean, you know how good their stuff is”, you tell her. “Oh, I know, but you know what else is good?”, she smiles at you. “No?”, you say, oblivious. “My boyfriend’s lips on mine”, she says before pressing her lips against yours. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like kissing Xinyu but kissing her in broad daylight in a back alley feels scandalous. You let your lips stay pressed against Xinyu’s for what feels like a few seconds before you push her away. “Baby, we can’t afford to get caught”, you bargain. “You’re right”, she sighs, “we’ll continue this later”.

You take her hand and enter the shop again. You see Dahyun and her mom crying while a man, who you assume is Mr. Seo, tries to calm them down. Dahyun then points a finger to you and the man walks up to you and reaches his hand out to shake yours. “You must be Jung Jisung”, the man says, “I’m Dahyun’s dad. Thank you so much for your help, son. It means a lot to us”. You’re surprised by how Dahyun’s family is reacting to your little feat, “I-I just wanted to help, sir. My friends and I really like the products your family is selling here”. Mr. Seo pulls you into a hug and you see that Nakyoung and Chaeyeon are leaning against Yooyeon’s shoulders on each side while sobbing. “What is happening, man?”, you think to yourself. Mr. Seo lets you go after a few seconds and shakes your hand one more time; “I need to go; I have two ladies to attend to”, he says, referring to his wife and daughter who are still weeping.

You sit down at the table again and ask your friends about what happened when you were away for that short a time. “They-they told us how hard it was to start this business, oppa”, Nakyoung holds back a sob before continuing, “they-they had to take a bunch of loans and barely had customers at the start—our tab today is one of the biggest ones they’ve had so far. Dahyun even had to do several part-time jobs to help her family’s economy”. Chaeyeon is making it obvious that she’s the most sensitive person in the friend group, as she cries even more after hearing Nakyoung’s summary of what has just happened. “They were over the moon when you said you were going to invest, and now the emotions have finally caught up to them”, Yooyeon says before wiping her eyes with a napkin. You realize that this is what your parents have been preaching for your whole life: to be able to help someone with what you have—especially money—no matter how big or small it is. You silently praise your parents and pray to whatever celestial being is up there for their health and safety.

You wait until everyone has calmed down before walking to the cashier to pick up the tab. “Ji-Jisung-ah”, Mrs. Seo’s emotions are still high as she keeps sobbing after all this time, “are you 100% sure you’re going to invest in us?”. “I am sure, madam. I’ve called the treasurer; she’ll reach out in two days. It’s the least I can do to help, madam”. Mrs. Seo opens her arms and hugs you, “thank you, son; thank you so much”. You close your eyes and savor the genuine emotions she’s showing you, “the pleasure is mine, madam; believe me”. She lets go and fiddles with the computer in front of her, “since you insisted on paying, everything will be ₩50.000 and I’m giving you a 10% discount—so what is that, then?”. Your eyes widen in surprise when you hear her words, “wait, no, no, no. Please, there’s no need for that”. You argue back and forth with Mrs. Seo until she agrees not to give you a discount. You hand her two ₩50.000 banknotes and tell her to keep the rest, which makes her bawl her eyes out again. You’re starting to feel terrible for making these people cry so much today, so you awkwardly walk back to the table so that you can get your friends to leave with you.

Everyone stands up when they’re finally ready to leave and file out of the door one by one except for Dahyun. Before it’s your turn to leave, Mr. Seo pulls you to the side and hugs you one more time. “Thank you for everything, Jisung-ah”, Mr. Seo says to your ear, “I would offer you my Dahyun but I was told that you have a girlfriend already”. Your eyes widen in shock, “That won’t be necessary ever, Mr. Seo. I don’t even know if Dahyun likes me like that—also she’s not anyone’s property, respectfully”, you whisper in his ear. He lets go of you and shakes your hand softly, so you reciprocate his gesture and do the same. “Oppa”, Dahyun calls out to you, “thank you so much for everything, seriously. I promise I’ll do my best in the council; I’ll do whatever you guys ask me to”. You smile at her, “I know you will, Dahyun-ah. I can tell that you’re a hardworking person as well”. Dahyun looks at the door and makes sure that the coast is clear before hugging you. “I know you have Xinyu-unnie but please let me have this for now”, she then gets on her tippy toes and pecks your cheek, which makes the two of you blush at the same time. “Thank you, Dahyun-ah. I wish you and everyone health and safety. See you soon, okay?”, you make to leave the restaurant and catch up with your friends.

You get back in the car and start driving again; everyone except Xinyu (obviously) asks you to take them back to campus, so you do as they ask and take them back there. They get off at the campus gate and wave at you as you leave, and now you’re left alone with Xinyu. “Let’s go home, oppa”, she says before reaching over and palming your cock, “I’m so fucking horny, oppa—if you hadn’t stopped me back in the alley, I would’ve got on my knees and sucked your cock”. You can feel your cock getting hard and your patience running thin, so you take a deep breath before replying to Xinyu, “patience, princess; we’ll get home before you know it”. You hope that your words were good enough to convince her to be patient, but they apparently weren’t, as she keeps palming your cock the rest of the way home.

You make it back to the parking lot of your building again. You stand next to the car and wait for Xinyu to get off. Instead of taking her hand and walk side by side, you lift her by her thighs and carry her to your destination. “You’re not getting away with being such a brat—you wanna palm my cock because you’re horny? Fine, I’ll show you horny”, you whisper aggressively in her ear. “You’re gonna make me pay, daddy?”, she whispers back, her voice laced with lust. You rush to your apartment and enter the bedroom straight away. Your lust-controlled brain doesn’t want to play nice, as it makes you drop Xinyu on the bed not-too-softly. Xinyu bites her bottom lip; “I like it when you’re rough”, she says, trying to rile you up more. You want to talk dirty with her, but you’re given another idea instead; “let’s make a deal: if you can make it through this session without cumming, I’ll buy you whatever you want—including Dahyun’s restaurant. Now pick a fucking safe word”. You take off everything you have on your body in front of her, and she bites her lip again, “Oh please, just who exactly do you think I am? Just come and punish me, daddy; use me, stretch me, choke me, cum in me—do whatever pleases you and I’ll take it like a good girl, because I am one”.

You pull her off the bed and onto her feet; “strip”, you command. “Yes, daddy” is her reply; short, but laden with obedience. She takes her sweet time to take off each thing and tries putting on a show for you, but since you’re now thinking with your cock and not your brain, you’re getting impatient; “I told you to strip, princess, not to take off your clothes”, you say as you palm her neck and squeeze it slightly while glaring right into her eyes—she’s taller than most people but you still tower over her (shoutout to dad for his genes). You see that she’s starting to get intimidated but still has her strong girl façade on, “hngh—patience, daddy, plea-please”. You let her neck go and she takes the rest of her clothes seemingly nervously, as seen by how her hands shake as she’s doing it. Xinyu gets back in bed when nothing is on her body, now ready to start the session. As much as you’re horny and rough, you’re never one to act without consent, so you ask the seemingly scared girl in your bed, “are you okay? Was I too mean? Do you want to keep going?”. “N-no, you’re okay—I’m okay”, she takes a deep breath and welcomes you to bed.

You get on top of her and start sucking and nibbling her neck, marking it with your lips as she moans and sighs at the contact. “You love marking me, right, daddy?”, she eggs you on, “you like showing people who I belong to, don’t you?”. You leave her neck when you see that it has a red spot on the side, knowing that it will turn into a decently sized hickey tomorrow, “Uh-huh; they’ll know if they haven’t already”, you say to her, “if you cover it with makeup, I will make you sleep on the sofa for a month”. She pleas her case, “but what if my professors see it?”. You shrug, “we’re adults—your words, not mine. Now stay still, I have things to do”.

You move to her breasts, putting one in your mouth while fondling the other. Xinyu has always been sensitive there, so you know it’ll be plenty of stimulation for her. “Daddy”, she sighs, “why do you like my breasts so much?”. You lift your mouth off so you can reply to her; “because they fit in my hands so well”, you palm a breast; a perfect handful in your hand, “can you feel how perfect it is in my hand?”. Xinyu nods to your question, “ye-yes, daddy; they’re perfect for you, just like the rest of my body”. “Good answer, princess—you should be able to feel this as well”, you pinch a nipple and tug, making Xinyu scream instantly, “oh, fuck, fuck—the-they’re sensitive, daddy”. You chuckle, “I know they are, but you’re mine to play with”.

You play with her tits a bit more before moving on. You opt to skip her tummy (no matter how firm and soft it looks) and go straight to her pussy. “Open your legs, princess”, you command her, and she instantly spread her long legs enough for you to fit your head between them. “I-I hope you like what you see”, she says with a blush on her cheeks. Honestly, how can you not like the sight despite having seen it a lot—her perfectly pink and glistening pussy is making you drool, literally. You dive into her pussy right away; your tongue is pressed against her entrance, threatening to invade it while your index finger is on her nub. Xinyu starts moaning and squirming around as you start licking her pussy, so you hold down her thighs so that you don’t miss your target. “Remember to hold your cum”, you remind the moaning girl. Her heavy breathing makes it hard for her to verbally answer you, so she just nods to your say.

“Op-oppa”, she calls out with heavy pants, “you-you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that”. You lift your face off her crotch and look at her in disbelief, “is that supposed to be a threat? You dare threat me, you slut? That’s the wrong name too, by the way”. Xinyu panics, “no-no, daddy; I would never—oh, fuck—I would never threaten you, I swear”. You plunge two fingers into her pussy, “that’s what I thought”. “Oh, fuck—daddy, please”, she lets out whiny moans. You know that she’s doing her best to hold off her orgasm, and you praise her for her efforts; even good girls have their limits, and hers is very close. You keep fucking her with your fingers until you feel her pussy squeeze them, indicating that she’s having her orgasm soon. True enough, she screams from the top of her lungs after a few seconds, “I’M-I’M CUMMING, FUCK!”. You pull your fingers out as she squirts her juices out and stroke her thighs to help her calm down. It takes a few minutes of moaning and whining until her mind is cleared and her high is dissipated. “You came”, you say with a fake disappointed voice. Realization of what just happened slaps her in the face, “I’m so sorry, daddy; please don’t punish me, I beg you. I-I’ll give you my mouth, I’ll give you my asshole—anything you want. Just don’t punish me, please”. “There’s no way she’s offering you her ass”, your brain says, “she’s never trained for it, has she? She’ll never be able to take your cock there—don’t take it, son”.

You decide to keep her in the dark and not tell her that you’re not getting in her ass because you’re naughty like that. “On your stomach, princess”, you command her, and you see that she’s nervous because she’s clueless as to what you have in mind. “I’m so dead; we’ve never trained my ass before and he’s getting in there—this is why you don’t run your mouth, Zhou Xinyu”, Xinyu thinks to herself. She gets even more scared when you lift her ass but not the rest of her body. You make her think that you’re going in her ass by asking her to spread her cheeks. Xinyu’s fear peaks when you put your thumb on her asshole and slather spit on it—she even sheds a tear because she’s that scared. “Look at it”, you say, “that must be so tight and snug”. “I guess this is how I die”, she thinks as more tears are released from her eyes, “he’s going in there dry, too—fuck, this will hurt like a bitch”. You remove your thumb and announce to her that you’re going in, so she closes her eyes and braces for the pain. To her surprise, you decide to plunge into her pussy instead, so Xinyu lets out a loud moan immediately; “oh, God, daddy, yes, yes—I’m your good girl, daddy”. A wave of relief washes over Xinyu; “he’s not getting in my ass!”, she thinks to herself.

You lean forward and whisper in Xinyu’s ear, “you thought I was gonna take your ass, didn’t you, princess?”. She moans before answering you, “ye-yes, daddy. I-I was so scared”. You laugh at her; you’d think she would know by now that you’d never do anything without her explicit and clear consent, but here she is, scared shitless at the prospect of losing her anal virginity to you. “I might not be taking your ass today, but I’m taking your pussy”, you say before pulling her gloriously thick jet-black hair. “It’s yours, daddy—I’m yours; take me anytime you want—oh, fuck, that’s so fucking deep”, she replies. You press Xinyu’s head into the pillow, “I’m cumming in your pussy and I want you to keep it in”. You feel her nod against your hand, and you pick up the pace of your thrusts.

You keep pumping her pussy deep and fast, just like how you like it. Xinyu is holding the pillow under her head with all her might, her knuckles turning white thanks to how hard she’s gripping it. You feel your lust peaking, so you give her rougher thrusts as your crotch makes clapping sounds when it hits Xinyu’s cheeks. Xinyu is moaning and screaming your name away, as she feels the rough thrusts you’re giving her; “I’m gonna feel this tomorrow”, she says in her head. You can feel your orgasm approaching, so you get in a squatting position without pulling out and keep thrusting into her pussy with all your strength. Xinyu knows this as well, so she eggs you on, “keep stretching me like that, daddy—oh, fuck, you’re in my belly”.

You start feeling tired from fucking her in such position. Thankfully for you, you’re so close to cumming as well. “Princess”, you say with heavy breathing, “I’m so close”. She turns her head to see you over her shoulder, “yes, daddy; I’m so close as well—oh, fuck—please let me cum with you”. You’re reminded of her words a few days ago when you said you were close, and you decide to use it against her, “I’ll let you cum if you ask nicely”. She takes a deep breath so that she can ‘ask nicely’, “daddy, please, let me cum with you—I’m-I’m begging you, daddy”. Satisfied with her answer, you pet her head; “good job, princess”. To make sure that she indeed cums with you, you reach around her waist and rub her clit as you’re fucking her.

Your orgasm finally hits after some more thrusts. You plug your cock deep into her and start shooting your cum deep into Xinyu’s pussy; at the same time, Xinyu’s legs quiver thanks to her second orgasm—no squirting this time, unfortunately. You stand up on the bed after all your cum is released into her; “if you let it leak out, I’m taking your ass”, you threaten her falsely. You know that Xinyu lacks training, so unless she trains her ass, you’re not getting in there—unless she decides to act like a brat again. Xinyu doesn’t know that it was a fake threat, so she keeps her ass up to prevent your cum from leaking out while she tries her best to catch her breath.

You jump off the bed and leave to get water and towel, “be right back, princess”. When you return, she still has her ass up because at heart, she is very obedient and just wants to please her boyfriend as much as she can. “Daddy”, she calls out with teary eyes, “can-can I put my ass down now? I’m s-starting to get tired”. You feel a rush of guilt in your heart because she actually fell for the false threat; “you can, princess. Just relax, okay?”, you say as you guide her waist down by pressing down on the small of her back until she’s flat on the bed. “I’m gonna wipe your body with this towel, okay, princess?”. You see her nod, so you start wiping her body from her nape down to her legs, making sure not to miss a spot as you go. You roll her over onto her back to clean the other side of her body and that’s when you see the messy makeup on her face—solid proof that tears were running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, princess”, you stroke her cheeks softly with your thumb, “I was so rough on you, wasn’t I?”. She sniffles before answering you, “you-you were, but it’s okay; nothing I’m not used to”. “Can I clean that makeup for you, or do you want to do it yourself?”, you ask her. She reaches out to grab the towel from your hands and wipe her face with it, “this should be enough”. She then returns the towel to you so you can clean the rest of her body.

“Honey”, you call out to her, “wanna shower or no?”. She sighs in exhaustion, “no, too tired—you can shower if you want”. You jump back in bed and lie next to her; “no, too tired”, you return her words. She gathers all her might and scoots over so that she can cuddle you; “I hope that was satisfactory”, she says. You peck her head, “of course it was. Thank you very much, love”. “I was so scared that you were going to fuck me in the ass, daddy”, she hasn’t dropped the name yet, “you know I’ve never trained my ass so I thought you were gonna take my anal virginity raw and dry—I mean sure, it’s only right that I give you that but I was super scared”. You stroke the back of her head softly, “we can talk about that later, sweetie—just know this: I would never do anything to you without your clear and explicit consent, so until I hear that you’re ready to take me in your ass, I’m not fucking you in the ass. I promise you that”.

She hums in understanding—you can tell that she’s grateful too—but is then reminded about the deal from earlier, “so I guess you’re not buying me whatever I want since I came?”. You let out a chuckle, “what do you want to get, sweetie?”. She blushes when she realizes that she didn’t lose the deal because of how sweet and kind you really are behind all those façades, “oh-oh, um, I-I wa-want burgers and fries from Dahyun’s place again, oppa”. You nod to her, “sure, love. We can go after this if you want”.

You and Xinyu get back in the car after regaining energy and showering, as you two are now on your way to Dahyun’s restaurant for the second time today. When you arrive, you see that Dahyun’s attending the cashier this time. She sees you two in front of the door and rushes to open it for you, “oppa, unnie, welcome back!”. “Hey, baby. Nice to see you again”, Xinyu hugs the girl in front of her. “We promised we would return so here we are”, you say to her. “Where are the others, though?”, Dahyun asks. “No idea; we just had sex at home and came here after cuddling and showering”, Xinyu utters oh-so-brazenly. “OH MY GOD! UNNIE!”, Dahyun covers her ears and runs away from the two of you. You palm your face, “I’m so sorry, Dahyun-ah; you didn’t need to hear all that”. Dahyun fans her cheeks with her hands to fight her blush, “oh my, how could you say that so casually—wh-what can I get for you guys this time?”. You pinch Xinyu’s cheek for her little shenanigan before turning to Dahyun and repeat your order from this afternoon; “oh, can we get 2 more fries and that sauce again? So 4 fries in total and the sauce”, you ask her. “Of course you can, oppa. Please wait at the table for your food”.

Dahyun brings a tray of food to you after about 15 minutes. She thinks that she can waltz away after that, so you call out to her, “where on God’s green earth do you think you’re going, Dahyun-ah?”. Surprised to hear you call her that way, she walks back to you your table awkwardly, “I-I’m sorry?”. “Why do you think we ordered 4 burgers?”, you point at the empty seat next to Xinyu, “have a seat with us. We can have a little chit-chat—you can get back to work if there’s another customer coming”. “Uwuwu, my baby”, Xinyu peppers Dahyun’s face with pecks. “I’m sorry, oppa, but is unnie always like this?”, Dahyun asks you. “No, only to people she likes”, you say with a smile, indicating to her that she’s one of those people.

No other customer ends up coming, so you have the entire restaurant to yourselves. “Dahyun-ah, would you be able to cater for the entire council? I would love to introduce your products to our staffs”, you say before shoving another piece of fry coated in sauce, “holy shit, that is glorious—you know what, we’ll pay for this bottle of sauce since we’re probably finishing this”. “Oppa”, she says with a soft voice, “you.. are you serious?”. You’re not sure what she’s talking about, “pardon?”. “Are you serious about asking us to cater for the council? That’d be, like, our biggest sales so far”, she says, tears threatening to burst out of her eyes for the second time today. “Let’s ask Xinyu what she thinks”, you point to the girl sitting next to Dahyun. “I agwee wif offa”, she says with a full mouth before swallowing her food, “ehm, excuse me—yes, I agree with oppa’s idea; we should introduce this to everyone. We’ll need the sauce as well, by the way”.

Dahyun sits in silence before covering her face to hide her tears; “oppa, unnie, why are you guys so kind to us? First it was the investment and now this?”, she says with trembling voice. Xinyu hugs the crying girl, “because we love you and we love your food, baby”. If Xinyu was calling another guy “baby”, you would flip out, but you don’t mind since it’s Dahyun. “I know that we sound like a broken record, but we genuinely love the food here. Can you give me an estimation as to when you think you’ll be able to do it?”, the way you say it makes you sound like your dad right now. Dahyun sniffles and gathers her mind to think of an answer, “um, probably in a few weeks; I need to talk with my parents, though”. “Very cool”, you clap your hands once, “we’ll be having a meeting with everyone in the council at the end of September. We’ll tell them to come with an empty stomach”.

You’re now ready to leave the restaurant after finishing your burgers, fries, and a whole bottle of sauce. “We’re gonna need to hit the gym this weekend”, you think to yourself. You’re standing in front of the cashier with Dahyun and Xinyu, and that’s when Xinyu excuses herself and runs to the toilet. Dahyun keeps her eyes on Xinyu until she disappears behind the toilet door and walks up to you slowly. You’re not too sure what she’s trying to do, so you opt to let things run their course for now. She wraps her arms around your nape and pulls you down for a kiss. As she’s kissing you, you can’t help but notice how soft her lips are. Dahyun then pulls away from the kiss after a few seconds; “I swear I’ll find a way to repay you, just wait—also, don’t think that I didn’t see your mark on unnie’s neck; sex with you must be amazing, oppa”, she says before taking a few steps back to avoid Xinyu’s suspicion. “You’re saying a lot of nonsense right now, darling”, you say in a quiet voice—that’s another pet name spilling out of your lips and Dahyun catches it right away. “Darling, hm? I like the sound of that, darling”, she winks at you and walks away. Perfect timing, really, because you see that Xinyu is opening the toilet door and about to walk out.

You close your eyes and put a palm on your forehead; “what is happening right now, man?”. Life is throwing another girl at you, and you’re not sure why because you already have a girlfriend—a lovely one at that. You take a deep breath before holding your girlfriend’s hand and leading her out of the door. You take a glance at Dahyun over your shoulder, and you see her wink at you once again. “I’m so fucking cooked”, you think to yourself.

#girl group smut #triples smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader smut #male reader

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ghouljams · 26 days ago

Text

And I Can Only Think of You (Act II End)

Words: 5.3k Tags: Knight!Ghost x Princess!reader, Keegan x f!oc, knight fights, tournament violence, blood, love confessions(sort of), shitty dads, König being a creepy weirdo, major character injury, no beta we die like [redacted] Summary: Your stage has been set, the player take their places, and suddenly decide to improvise.

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The flags are raised first. Tents follow. Then the knights and their squires, then the arena and brown dirt that will so quickly become darkened with blood. You watch the set up from the castle, content to think through your plans as fences are raised and benches are built. Your mind is made up, wheels in motion, and players taking their places. You have every confidence in Ghost.

Perhaps you should have that same confidence in yourself, but… one step at a time. It’s hard to turn around a lifetime of conditioning. You have to remind yourself of your convictions, remind yourself that you’re worth the same confidence you offer your knight. Yet, too often you find yourself hoping this is a terrible dream that Ghost will wake you up from, and you’ll find yourself back in the forest with him.

Suddenly bandits and assassins seem so much easier to deal with. “The enemies you know” as the saying goes.

You’ll find your confidence when this is all over, when you have proof of your abilities. Until then you have your embroidery.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your Ghost is popular. He’s at least a head taller than most of the other knights, standing proudly and directing his subordinates in that lovely deep voice, of course there’d be women that admired him. You don’t know why there needs to be so damn many of them though, especially this early in the morning. Your heart clenches so tightly in your chest you think it might have stopped. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake, a mistake of the heart that you don't know how to recover from. Until he spots you and his dark eyes lighten with a flash of warmth that may as well melt you.

You feel so suddenly like yourself, like that damsel he’s always been so dutiful in his protection of. A princess running from her father’s attempt at a marriage arrangement and leaving her slippers with a stranger. Even with that dark cloth over his mouth you know Ghost’s smile by the crinkle of his eyes. You clutch your token close to your chest, something you should have given to Ghost when he'd been taken off your detail. You’d thought he’d be wearing your colors at least, but the cool flash of his armor holds no green besides the reflection of grass under his feet. You tip your head to look up at him, letting his dark eyes hold your gaze until he reaches to smooth his thumb between your brows.

“What are you frowning about now?” He asks, the low rumble of his voice warm and teasing. The leather of his glove under the cool steal of his armor only makes you pout more. He’s always touched you so easily, too easily if the rumors around you two are to be believed, but it’s never warmed your skin like this. Your fingers dig into the token you’d fashioned, nearly crushing the embroidery under the weight of your nerves.

“I’m merely anxious for the tournament.�� You tell him, and earn a crease of his eyes, an amused hum.

“Have I ever disobeyed an order from you, my lady?” Ghost asks, his fingers slipping from your forehead to trace your jaw.

“Of course not.” You frown. You feel strangely… scolded.

“Then trust me,” He tilts his head, “You told me to win, and I intend to.”

The cold determination in his eyes washes over you like a chill. You’ve seen those eyes too many times, caught the fury in them as his sword splattered blood over his helm. It’s the same look he’s held every time he’s saved you from certain doom, and you want nothing more than to give into it, to let him save you once more. What once held your hopes now feels burdensome in your hand. You wish-

No, no more wishing. You made a promise to yourself. You're not going to be that scared little princess anymore. You're not going to wait on someone to save you. You're in charge of your own destiny, and if you want something you have to take it for yourself.

“You’re not wearing my crest,” You change the subject, leaning to inspect his cape, or lack thereof. Ghost huffs.

“Never would’ve made it out of the barracks if I ‘ad.” Your father’s doing you’re sure. Anything to keep Ghost separated from you, unburdened by responsibilities to the throne. Despite his new position as captain of the knights he doesn’t wear the royal crest. Disavowed, abandoned by the throne he serves. Ripe for a new king to swoop in and claim him.

“Well,” You nod, reassuring yourself, “it’s a good thing I came around then.” Another satisfied hum from Ghost, approving. It leaves your cheeks burning. You hold up the deep green fabric clutched between your fingers, the long strip embroidered carefully with the curling ivy and white dahlias that make up your personal crest.

“Just in the nick of time,” Ghost makes no move to take it, “was worried one of the other ladies would tuck theirs in my belt first.” It’s a joke, but it stalls in your brain. His hand drops to his side, fingers tugging at the leather belt looped around his middle. Making room for you to slide the banner in.

“Oh,” You stall, beg yourself not to stutter, without finding a single word to stutter on. You glance around at the other knights, house banners and lovers’ tokens hang off their belts. It makes sense, capes would get in the way of combat, but something simple like a flag on their belt…

You glance up at Ghost, feel his stare like a two ton weight. He’s teasing you, you’re sure. The same dry humor that made you throw sticks at him when you made camp. Horrible jokes.

You look down at his belt, watch his hand raise out of your view, feel his fingers pluck at the hair peeking out from under your circlet. Your own fingers go to his belt, calling his bluff as you thread your banner over the leather, and tug it into place. He leans to press his lips to the strand he’s pulled free, his shadow makes a chill run up your spine, and you feel the tug at your scalp as you shudder. You try to look busy making the banner lay flat, picking at the forest green until it’s perfectly draped over his belt, your crest on display for all to see.

Your fingers won’t pull away from him. You will them to, but there they stay.

“Thank you,” Ghost says, his voice a low murmur. You nod. His gloved finger traces over your cheek, tips your head up to meet his eyes. “Where did my confident lady go?” He teases you.

“Waiting for her father.” You mutter.

Ghost hums, his distaste clear in the tone. You fidget with the banner on his belt, enjoy the nervous flutter in your stomach as his fingers stroke your cheek. You don’t know how he does it, how he can be so steadfast. There’s never a moment where he’s wavered, never a time you’ve questioned his devotion to you. Ever since you met him, you’ve known that Ghost was here by his will alone and no one else’s.

Maybe that was why your father hated him. The one man in the kingdom who held no allegiance to the crown. Who never would have taken his commission if he hadn’t wanted to. Who told the monarchy “no” with as much mirth as he did conviction.

“I have to talk to the priest,” You tell him, hoping mention of your errands will help move you.

It doesn’t help to move Ghost. His hand stays as it was, the worn leather covering his knuckles skirting over your cheek with painful care.

“What do I get when I win?” Ghost asks.

When, you remind yourself, not if.

“Hopefully whatever you want,” His eyes crease at the edges, warm honey brown making your heart patter, “so start making a list.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You have to look away from him, your cheeks far too warm to allow for eye contact. It takes his hand from your cheek, gives you the strength to pull your hands from his belt. You can’t hang around him all day. Both of you have roles to play, proverbial swords to swing.

“Good luck my lady.” Ghost mumbles. The heat of his hands following you as you hurry back to your retinue.

Your lady-in-waiting smiles at you, takes her hand off your knight’s arm. You note that her family’s crest decorates his belt with, perhaps, too much interest. You’d noticed them growing closer, but not that close. Your knight covers the banner with his hand, and you force your eyes from it to smile at your maid.

"You have everything prepared?" You ask her. She nods.

"Of course m'lady." She twists to unhook the pouch she'd brought, producing a scroll for you.

You'd been worried after your letter to Ghost, that she might resent you. You've known your lady-in-waiting since you were a child, but knowing who you could trust was difficult when your father's grip on your life only seemed to tighten. Still, she'd been steadfast in her allegiance to you, and almost excited to help you in your scheming. You're sure you've been too clear in your affections for your knight, clear enough to risk her as well, it's nice knowing she's in your corner. Even if you hadn't thought she'd been there.

Maybe she weighed her options. Though you're not sure how you won if she did.

"Who's with my father?" You ask Keegan. He makes a face, his nose scrunching his mask in distaste.

"Graves."

"Perfect." You take the scroll from your lady-in-waiting and turn to find the announcer.

"I'm sure he'd be chuffed to hear that," Keegan tells you with an almost audible eye roll.

You're sure he would be. Just like you're sure Graves is doing his best to shove his entire head up your father's ass with how much he kisses the damn thing. That man has his eyes on knight captain, and you're sure your father has already let him know that the position will be open shortly.

Not if you have anything to do with it.

You spot the bored looking priest that's been assigned to announce the contest. Impartial in that he seems uninterested in all of it. You couldn't think of a better puppet than one who seems so keen on staying out of the actual event. Who better than someone who won't question changes because they simply do not care?

"Priest," You wave him down, dissatisfied with the placid smile he turns your way as you walk towards him.

"Princess," He greets.

"My father asked me to deliver this," You hold the scroll out to him, he nods once, a slow and steady bowing of his head. You detest it. Your fathers name carries God's weight. "König had some changes he wanted made to the prize." You smile. An explanation that's unasked for, short and sweet for a man that cares only enough not to crush the paper in his hand.

"Of course." The priest agrees. Inept, you think. There's no chance the man checks your switch, even less that he checks with your father about it. You won't be sad to see him go when your father decides to behead him after the tournament.

You nod, the priest bows, you part ways. You count yourself lucky that his ineptitude extends to his desire to pray for you.

Your lady-in-waiting sticks close to your side as you make your way to the sheltered seats reserved for your family. Another point of luck that you're sitting beside your mother. You father is too busy with his attempts to impress König to notice you settling in your chair, though you do see König's eyes flick to greet you. Mad dog he may be, at least he keeps track of his surroundings.

Your stomach ties itself into knots as your parents are plied with wine. You decline your own glass, too nervous to entertain even thoughts of alcohol. You may throw up. Your confidence, or lack thereof, in the priest is waning the longer you wait. Maybe he's peaked at your alterations. Maybe he'll send a page to alert your father. Maybe you'll be locked in your room for good to prevent any further scheming before you're sold to the highest bidder.

The priest takes his place, carried by long divinely purposeful strides, in the center of the arena. If nothing else, at least he's loud.

You tune out most of the drivel he spews. Artfully copied word for word by your lady-in-waiting from the real scroll, you really should ask where she learned such forgery, it's all praises for the king, the day, your god on high. Worthless. Less than worthless. At least the paper holds value, the ink, the time taken, but the words themselves? God. Get to the important part.

"The prize-" The priest screeches, "-which shall be allotted in full to the victor alone, announced to the people by their gracious and loving king, heretofore and forever regarded as the divinely appointed ruler of the land, shall be His Majesty's only daughter's hand in-" The priest stalls, stutters, stares at the parchment and finishes weakly, "-in marriage."

There's silence.

Then chaos.

The knights in their pen turn to you with such pinpoint precision you'd think they'd practiced the movement. You keep your eyes on the priest. Of all the eyes on you, you feel your father's the heaviest. He nails you in place, unable to speak a word over the raucous excitement of the crowd. The crown princess, finally to be married, and to a knight- no, the best night in the land, no less. It's like a fairy tale.

If you can survive it.

Your eyes dart to the pen, to the stoic figure of your knight, his eyes fixed on the priest as well. His hand is clenched tight around the hilt of his sword. Even with all the excitement he stands like a statue, his gaze level. If you didn't know him better you might mistake his stillness for calmness. He's thinking, calculating, weighing his odds. You told him to win, he'd already known what he had to do, but this- this changes things. Chaos is harder to account for.

He turns your way, his eyes dark when they lock onto yours. He gives you a short nod, and you feel the weight of it settle in your chest. Ghost turns back to the arena and disappears behind the helm he presses over his head.

You haven't seen it in ages. Burnished steel, the white pattern of a scull pained over the front, and his eyes flashing cold in the shadows. He cuts a fitting picture, your father's nightmare given human form. He has no one to root for now.

You turn your attention back to your family. Your mother hides her shock behind a facade of calm, her eyes fixed on her people with a placid smile. You never had a chance to truly ask her- no matter. Your father hides his contempt well. Practiced at it, you suppose. König has his cheek resting against his hand, his lips curled over his teeth in an approximation of a smile. You've seen monkeys in caravans make that expression, baring their teeth the way their human handler has taught them. Some part of you feels glad to have earned some semblance of his approval, as detestable a man as he may be. At least someone is having fun.

You wonder what human taught him to approximate a smile. You can't imagine his kingdom has many saints, but his handler must be one of them.

You'll try to enjoy yourself as well. After all, you're soon to be betrothed to your knight. You can't think of a better man to hand your future to. Ghost has never let you down, and you can't see him starting now.

That's how the first match goes.

Your knight swings his sword with such practiced precision that it sends his opponent's flying from his grip barely moments into the fight.

Not to be outdone the rival knight lunges for him, and you taste bitterness on your tongue when Ghost brings his sword down hard on his rival's helm. The poor fool is crushed, sent sprawling flat on the ground with the imprint of Ghost's hilt decorating the back of his helm. The cheers are as violent as the match-up as Ghost raises his fist to the crowd, his sword hung lazy at his side. You can almost feel the smug air radiating off of him. Similarly, you can feel your father's ire poisoning the air around you.

You care little for the other matches. Tournaments are only fun when you have someone to root for after all, and when it's your life hanging in the balance you find yourself looking away from the lecherous gazes of the other challenging knights. You can't find it in yourself to feign an interest in their matches.

If your mother is to believed you shouldn't have to.

Rumors of your attachment to Ghost are the very reason he was taken away from you. You're sure the other knights know all too well who you're rooting for. If it weren't clear from the banner on his belt, surely they'd know it from the gossip that floods the castle. It's only their own greed and lust for your crown that gives them any hope at all for taking your hand at the end of the day.

One thing is for sure. You've never seen a tournament so bloody.

The knights fight like rabid dogs. If they cannot disarm their opponent they will attempt to kill him, searching for the breaks in their armor and beating their sword into the bends. Men beat each other with their fists, they batter each other with maces, they claw for every scrape they can achieve until the priest yells for them to stop.

You watch Keegan dodge a particularly deadly blow from a larger knight, his eyes wild with bloodlust. It makes your skin crawl to think such a man might ever force his way into your bed. Your only saving grace is watching your knight swing his sword, twisting with the grace of a dancer to hold his blade against his opponent's throat.

You suppose it's good that Keegan has no dreams of the monarchy, content as he is to pull your lady-in-waiting's banner from his belt and press it to his helm. He could give your Ghost a run for his money.

One of the servants offers you lunch partway through. You bundle bread and sweet meat into your handkerchief, and pass it off to your lady-in-waiting to take to Ghost. You're sure he's resigned himself to hunger, and you'd rather he keep himself in fighting shape.

You smile when you catch your father's eye.

There is something pleasant about going against the man. Not pleasant enough to go so far as killing him, despite König's suggestion, but satisfying nonetheless. Your father has always seemed larger than life, untouchable in his judgement, but now you see him as exactly what he always has been: a man in a fancy hat. A man without half the strength that your Ghost has. A man that could crumble under the weight of a sword.

Your father has strength in his eyes, but straight backs can be broken as easily as hunched ones.

You hear the sickening crunch of yielding bones and catch the way Graves jerks and twists at his opponent's arm under the hollering jeers of onlookers. The man screams out in pain, and your father's knight releases him. Only to plant his foot against the knight's chest and kick him to the ground.

The priest calls the match, and Graves moseys to fetch his sword from where he threw it. He wears your father's --the monarchy's-- crest on his belt.

You look at your father, his smile proud beside your mother's wide eyed horror. He turns to look at you.

“A late entry,” the king tells you, “but quite impressive, don't you think?”

You don't think. Not on your life would you think your father's pick impressive. Not with the way he saunters towards your stand and leans against the banners. His blue eyes now black, swallowed by his pupils, look you up and down like a hog for slaughter.

“Y'know princess,” he smiles, “I always thought you were a pretty thing. Guess now I'll finally get to see you without the big guy staring me down.”

You shouldn't entertain that with a response. You keep your eyes firmly on the priest as he announces, silently, the next match. Your hearing rolls with the crashing of waves, the thrum of your blood circulating and rushing against your brain, trying to find purchase for some new brilliant plan. Trying to find reason against your faith in Ghost. You find nothing but your own affection.

“You will lose.” You assure Graves. He hums, his smile unwavering. Unnerving. He pushes away from the banner covered fence and pats the knight coming into the area on the shoulder.

You won't let him or your father's bastard-airs dissuade you. Ghost has fought twenty men and come out unscathed. He's rescued you from far worse than Graves could throw at him. Besides, the only good Graves has done in his life is give you someone to root against in the tournament.

And root against him you do. When you aren't cheering for your Ghost(and Keegan, bless him) you're cheering on whatever poor soul is stuck facing your father's pick.

With each rung the knights climb towards your hand the matches grow bloodier. Men seem less afraid to go against the rules of combat, more willing to darken the dirt with their opponent's blood. You watch Keegan take a nasty blow to the face before managing to disarm his opponent. When he flips the visor of his helm up you're treated to crimson staining his brow, flooding his eye such that he has to call for a cloth to clear it. Your Ghost too, seems to grow harsher, his goal --your goal-- closer with each victory he achieves.

He batters one opponent with his sword still sheathed, beating the other knight into submission with a singular focus that you so rarely see. Still, he seems to be the only one to avoid spilling unnecessary blood on the field. Your sword raised carefully against your subjects, rot excised with surgical precision.

Graves holds none of the same delicacy.

Yet he turns to be sure you're watching with each man he injures. His hand raised to you --to your father more accurately-- as if to more openly show off his ruthlessness. Even the mutt king seems impressed with him.

"Scheiße," König hums, his smile still biting into his fingers, "What is it you English call it?" He asks your father, "Cutting the same clothes?"

"Yes I was rather brash at that age too," Your father agrees, so smug, the bastard.

"Oh no," König's smile, now at least, seems to fill with joy, perhaps he can only do that when faced with someone else's misery, "It is my clothes he cuts from."

It's the first you've seen your father hesitate. His eyes draw to Graves' grin, his helmet tossed and his cheek wearing the blood of his victory. It drags a path over his teeth, and you know you'll see the pink tinge of his spit in your nightmares. It's as if this is the first he's seen his personal guard without the blinders of stopping your betrayal.

And what can your father say? That he hopes Graves isn't? That König is the last kind of king he'd ever want to hand his kingdom over to?

He glances at you.

That he'd want to hand you over to?

He is still your father after all. It's the first time in years you've seen the same concern he held for you as a little girl. The first time you think he's looked at you as something other than a tool for his own political gains. You wonder if he's wondering: Can he really hand his daughter over to a man like König?

To a late entry?

You look away from him, and to the man your father had so cruelly put forth to win you. Not because he thought you were a particularly good match. Not because he had a particular fondness for Graves. But because he hated Ghost. You wonder if his own petty resentment is good enough reason to hand you to a man with blood in his teeth.

All the more reason to cheer for your own men.

You pay little attention to the rest of the matches. You gossip with your lady-in-waiting and do your best to ignore the rest of the world. You only know when Keegan has taken the field again when your friend stops talking. She looks so worried you'd think he was facing the devil himself. Serves you right for ignoring the matches, you suppose. You must have missed the dark lord's summoning.

Turning to the field you do see the problem. He's up against Ghost. If this were any other tournament you might feel bad rooting against the poor fellow, but as it stands you can't find it in yourself to hope Keegan wins. You have neither the desire to marry him, nor the desire to take him from your friend.

It's probably best that he puts up a lackluster fight. His grip is loose when Ghost's sword swings, and much like the knight in the first round Keegan's sword goes flying.

The two men stand facing each other before Keegan lets out a long breath.

"Oh no!" He yells, "Not my sword! God not my sword!" He makes an exaggerated showing of shrugging, "Oh well, I suppose the match is yours."

You snort. It's good that he has his knighthood to fall back on, he certainly has no future in acting if that performance is to be believed. Still, your lady-in-waiting cheers loudly for him as he exits the field. You cheer as well, falling into your friend's laughter even through the nerves that grip your stomach.

You look at the tournament board and watch your crest move to the final round. The tree finally reaching its inevitable conclusion. Ghost is going to win just like you told him to.

Your eyes flick to the other side and land on the royal seal just as Graves is announced in his own semi-final round.

You know in your heart that he'll win with the same understanding that you know fire will burn you and the sea will swallow you whole if you let it. It is a fact that cruelty like his rarely goes punished.

You stand from your seat, you can't watch this match. No matter how short it may be, you can't watch. You can't see that man win again.

You go to find Ghost.

There's a page fussing over him when you make your way to the knight's rest area. You don't recognize them, but you don't spend much time at the training grounds. Ghost spots you immediately and waves off the boy to greet you.

"Go back to your seat," He advises, though there's no push behind his words.

"I wanted to congratulate you." You grin and see his shoulders lower slightly, softening beneath the armor.

"Thank me after, my lady," You can hear the smile in his voice even behind that horrible helm, "I'm only following orders."

"You're following them beautifully." You reach to fix the drape of your banner on his belt, and see him tilt his head in your periphery. His hand raises and he brushes the steel knuckle of his glove against your cheek. Soft despite the cold, unyielding material.

"The other knights think you've fixed the tournament." He mumbles.

"I have," You tip your head back to look at him, trying to find the warm copper of his eyes through the slits in his helm, "I put you in it."

The huff of breath Ghost lets out is as close to laughter as you'll get from him, but it warms you all the same. He turns his head away from you, surveying the field of defeated knights. All men he'll be commanding as king soon, men who must envy and revere him in equal measure. You're sure how it must look to them, but perhaps it's better they think they lost due to some predestination rather than their own inability.

"You should head back," He turns back to you, "No need to hear what your father's man has been saying about you."

Your stomach churns, "What's he saying?"

"Nothing he won't pay for." Again you can hear Ghost's smile, and it settles your nerves. You nod, gathering your strength around you.

"Then I'll be waiting for you," You assure him.

"You'll never have to wait again when this is over."

You push up onto your toes, and press your forehead against his. The bend of his back must be painful under the layers of steel, but you're sure he'd agree it's worth it for a small parting comfort before you turn to hurry to your seat.

You're only too happy to see the field bare when you make it back. Your lady-in-waiting is beaming in a way that makes you think perhaps she paid her own knight a visit.

Your father's crest has been moved to face your own. An inevitability, but one that you find your confidence bolstered on. You have Ghost's assurance, what else could matter?

König leans forward in his seat, his eyes sparking with excitement next to your father. There's a tightness on your father's lips, nerves in his eyes. You've never known him as a man who shows fear, but perhaps that's just because he's never been on the losing side. You're sure to cheer particularly loud when Ghost takes the field once again. Your father doesn't even stand for Graves.

The priest gives his spiel, the knights bow before the king, and you stand to smile at the crowd when the prize is reaffirmed. Your hand in marriage, and the whole kingdom as a result. You're not surprised when the priest nearly runs from the area, not when both knights draw their sword as soon as they raise their heads.

You can't say who swings first, only that the clash of their swords is deafening. Both knights hold the other back before Ghost squares his shoulders and swings again.

Graves deflects.

Ghost swings.

Graves deflects. Swings.

Ghost deflects.

They trade blows that make your ears ring. Their swords swung with such force you can almost see the flex of muscle under their armor. You can see why your father has kept Graves close, he's a talented swordsman, but he isn't Ghost. Graves is fast, following the momentum of his swings. It's flashy compared to Ghost's technical perfection, hollow with wasted movement.

Ghost takes a step back and you watch him switch his grip. In all the years you've known him you've never seen him change hands, but when he twirls the blade you see an ease of movement that seems supernatural. It's enough of a display to make Graves lunge forward.

You remember Ghost telling you once that the only true rule of combat is to win at all costs. That chivalry is for those that can afford a loss. There's no weakness in the way Ghost moves, and you have no doubt in his ability to win.

He side steps Graves' attack, his sword raised to bring the hilt down hard on Graves' shoulder, and stops as his armor's straps pull tight

and snap.

You watch with the rest of the helpless audience as Graves flips his grip and plunges his blade deep into Ghost's side. Slicing the metal clean through through the back of him dark with the sheen of blood spattering onto the dirt like a waterfall.

It's not the cling of swords the rings in your ears as you leap to your feet, but your own shrieking. It follows Ghost to the ground as he settles hard onto one knee. The shouting of the crowd is a deafening cacophony of "Blood! Blood! Blood!"

And your world crumbles into a single point as Ghost's helm tips to stare up at your father's victory.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #knight!ghost #princess!reader #f!reader #medieval au

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zara-renata · 2 months ago

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Not my type | ao3 | part 8 of this series

a tragicomedy starring Sylus and his clueless crush

Summary: Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc This story contains: slow burn, angst, grief, banter, stalking (Sylus), an ongoing one-sided misunderstanding that will be resolved in the next instalment in a way that hopefully won't destroy the romantic tension, mc with self-esteem issues, mentions of self harm, Kieran and Luke and some ocs that hopefully you'll like.

In the days following your utter humiliation at the hands of the Hunter Association’s most wanted criminal, you’re doing fine. Really. You are Fine.

You had a great time at the bookstore with Xavier, who kindly said nothing about your state of dishevelment or the glaring human bite mark on your shoulder when you answered the door that morning. You both lazily wandered between the bookshelves, leisurely reading summaries and showing each other finds that you thought the other would also enjoy. You stopped at the bookstore café and loaded up on sugary iced coffee.

“Here, try this, I think you’ll like it,” you offer your iced mocha with caramel drizzle and whipped cream to Xavier as you begin walking back home together, each carrying a shoulder tote full of manga stuffed with hot guys and big swords, after having spent probably half of this month’s paycheck in one impulse-fueled spree.

“Okay, but then you also have to try mine,” he smiles, holding his own cup out to you. You look at it dubiously, recalling from hearing him order that it had some sort of peppermint flavor in it.

“No way I’m drinking sugar-flavored toothpaste,” you grimace, shaking your head.

“What? Noo, it’s really good, I promise. The peppermint is really subtle. You can’t only just consume chocolate and caramel in your desserts. You’ve got to be a little more adventurous, or you might miss out on something surprising,” he earnestly advises, blue eyes wide, a little pout on his lips.

You eye the offending drink again, and then figure, why not? You��ve gone through much worse, recently, in terms of unpleasant experiences. You should try new things, of the food variety. Because you’re done trying new things of the people variety.

You take his cup and hand over yours, and you both quietly sip for a moment. Your eyes meet again, and both of you grin. “That’s really good!” you admit, and Xavier gently knocks your shoulder with his. “I told you so,” he smiles serenely.

“All right, all right. I’ll listen to my partner more from now on,” you exchange drinks again.

It was nice. Back at his place, you both lazed around on his soft couch and bean bag chair and read until the sunlight drifting through his windows was the golden-tinge of the setting sun, and his persistent yawning was so frequent that you decided to put him out of his misery. You couldn’t punish him by overstaying your welcome simply because you didn’t want to go back to your empty flat with all of your racing thoughts.

“Thanks for today, it was a really nice break,” you tell him as you’re gathering your manga volumes and slipping them back into your tote bag.

“It was,” he yawns again, tears forming at the sides of his clear bright eyes. “We should do it again soon. But I’m going to be out of town for a little while, starting tomorrow.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“Hey, no worries. I wasn’t going to demand you spend all of your leave entertaining me,” you smile, genuinely. You always miss him when he disappears mysteriously, but he’s gotten so much better at telling you when he plans to be away compared to how he was when you first partnered with him.

“I know. I just…” he pauses. “If you need me. For anything. Just send me a text, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can. I don’t like the idea of you being left to your own devices for too long.” He gives you a teasing smile. “Who knows what other strange companions you’ll pick up if left alone for too long,” he continues, obviously referring to how you stumbled upon him in the no-hunt zone so many months ago. However, the only thing that comes to mind when he says “strange companions” is the image of narrowed scarlet eyes, a laugh that warms you like a shot of whiskey, and big, big hands.

You chuckle, totally naturally, and not nervously at all, mind racing, trying to figure out if he somehow knows that Sylus was at your place last night, and if so, if he knows who Sylus is exactly. Shit. Shit. Nope. You’re not doing this. Xavier is making an innocent joke about how the two of you met, and Sylus does not get to bulldoze into your thoughts while you’re having fun with your partner.

“I’ll be the paragon of caution, I promise,” you say solemnly. “I promise I won’t talk to any shady strangers while you’re away.” You nod firmly to him.

He smiles, seemingly reassured. “Good. Try to get some rest over the next few days. The Captain is right, you need some R&R. Even I couldn’t decipher your reports, and I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at translating your … particular style of writing under most conditions.”

“Hey, at least I use actual words when texting,” you roll your eyes, pointing at him. He snorts softly, and you wave and make your way back to your apartment, where you proceed to spend the next few days manically cleaning your apartment and researching online for advice regarding acting, bluffing, the subtle art of reading micro-expressions and how to control your own, and in general all things you tell yourself are useful for your undercover work, and not because you anticipate having to lie to everyone you know and care about for as long as a certain hooligan continues to insert himself into your life when you least expect it.

But as the days pass, you don’t hear anything from said hooligan. The only crow feathers outside your window are of the normal variety, swaying in the branches of trees whose leaves are falling as autumn encroaches on the last days of summer in the city.

You decide, once again, to grab the memory of him by the throat and shove it down deep, with all of the other things you refuse to examine too closely. You’re probably close to running out of storage room, but that’s a problem for future you.

For present you, it’s time to hit the arcade. You haven’t been in a while. So that’s what you do, enjoying the cacophony of games music and sound effects, people laughing and shrieking as they win and lose, the too-bright lights, the scent of fried food. The wall of sound and lights and other people just having a simple, entertaining weekend afternoon is enough to drown out any overthinking you might otherwise be sucked into.

It works for a while. You spend some time beating teenagers at some 1 v 1 fighting games, beat some younger kids at your favorite motocross simulation. You manage to not make anyone cry, although for one poor kid it seemed like a close call for a minute or two, before his buddies dragged him away to get some soda as a consolation drink for being beaten within an inch of his pubescent life by the adult weirdo who demolishes children in video games.

You’re finally trying your hand at getting a few new plushies to bring home when you realize you’ve managed to go a couple hours without missing your grandmother, or Caleb. The only people who knew you, really knew you, as a child, and were therefore the scaffolding holding up the unfinished architecture of the adult you, with all of its missing floors and windows, and all the storage rooms hidden behind walls with no doors. But that scaffolding is gone now, and you can’t turn to them and reassure yourself: I am still me, right? I am still the me who I always have been, despite the scarlet voices in my head that come to me in frightening dreams, despite the endless hunger, the exquisite drowning I felt the one time I resonated with Sylus…I’m a good person. I’m a kind person. I’m a loveable person. Right? You loved me, right?

There’s no one left to ask, now. Just you, looking at yourself in the glass reflection of a claw machine, in a noisy arcade filled with people having fun. You haven’t been able to win even one plushie yet.

You take your hand off the joystick, suddenly exhausted. You will not cry in front of the stuffed llamas and penguins. They don’t deserve that.

Your phone dings.

You fish it out of one of your cargo pants pockets, and scowl when you see the name of the person texting you.

Not My Sy: I feel that Ive been more than generous in giving you sufficient time to draft your little rules, but Im starting to get bored waiting for you to send them.

You just stare at your phone, as the door of the basement that you had just slammed closed where you stuff all of your unwanted thoughts bursts open, flooding you with feelings you’re trying so hard not to feel. Just the sight of the nickname he gave himself in your phone fills you with a rush of anticipation—a thrill that aches. And that is exactly why you hadn’t sent him the rules you had insisted on imposing on his surprise visits to your place. One, because you refuse to reach out to him first and therefore lose. Lose what, you’re not sure, but you’re tired of feeling like you’re losing to him. If he wants to talk to you, he knows your number. Two, there is no longer any point to sending him the Rules. He can’t come to your place if he wants to talk to you, because the deal’s off. He can find some other place to recuperate from headaches and papercuts and someone else to manipulate and to… kiss, and bite.

You will not allow him to affect you like this anymore. You stuff your phone into your back pocket and decide to save all the tokens you still have for another day. Time to pick up some tacos and go home to binge watch a series of films that make you yell at the screen because no one can get shot that many times and not fucking die, what a load of bullshit, but you’ll keep watching anyway because the gunplay choreography is pretty badass even if it’s completely nonsensical. There’s also a dog in it. You’ve never been able to resist an anti-hero with a soft spot for animals.

Your phone dings again. You tell yourself that you won’t look. You have plans, dammit. Ones you just made, granted, but you’re not going to get roped into whatever little scheme Sylus thinks he can run on you today.

You wrap your hoodie tighter around yourself in preparation for the rush of cool autumn air as the arcade’s door swings shut behind you. Your phone dings again. You grit your teeth and reach into your pocket to flick your phone to silent.

Almost immediately, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket. And it doesn’t stop. It just… keeps going. You jerk to a halt and just stand there, feeling it vibrate against your ass, over and over and over again. What the fuck is this lunatic doing?!

Finally, you reach for your phone again and angrily open his messages as you start moving again.

Not My Sy: Hmm, I see youve been busy in your phone settings. Cant say Im fond of the change. Allow me to fix it for you.

My Sy: Much better.

My Sy: Oh, I see how it is. A certain kitten thinks I can be left on read without any consequences. Are we feeling a little sullen today, sweetie?

My Sy: Hmm, I see that you decided not to wear one of my gifts out today on your little jaunt to one of my establishments. Probably for the best. They fit you perfectly, but expose enough skin that theyre not very practical for a brisk autumn afternoon at the arcade. Good call.

My Sy: I also dont think the teenagers you just slaughtered at the arcade could have handled the loss and the gorgeous view.

My Sy: Ah, would we prefer vibration as stimulation this afternoon? Im happy to help with that.

My Sy: Pick

My Sy: Up

My Sy: Your

My Sy: Phone

My Sy: I

My Sy: Can

My Sy: Do

My Sy: This

My Sy: All

My Sy: Day

My Sy: You

My Sy: Look

My Sy: Adorable

My Sy: When

My Sy: Youre

My Sy: Mad

My Sy: Like

My Sy: A

My Sy: Fluffy

My Sy: Little

My Sy: Kitten

My Sy: Back

My Sy Arched

My Sy: Fur

My Sy: Puffed

As the wall of messages load, you stop so quickly on the sidewalk that someone bumps into you from behind. You barely resist the urge to launch them into traffic with a one armed shoulder throw. Two more messages pop up.

My Sy: Oh I like the look on your face now

My Sy: Makes me want to grab you by the tail

The person behind you has the good sense to just keep going without saying anything to you, but that may have something to do with the fact that you’re now spinning in circles, eye darting wildly in an attempt to locate Sylus, or Mephisto, or the twins, or some security camera, so that you can take out whatever eyes are feeding Sylus your image right now.

You: where is it?

Instead of an answering text, your phone begins to vibrate in your hand, and … a picture you did not take appears on the screen along with Sylus’s incoming call.

In the photo, Sylus is leaning against your pillows, one arm leisurely bent behind his head, his bare bulky chest on full display as he lifts the phone with his other arm. You are fast asleep on top of him, face turned so that all that is visible in the picture is your hair—bedhead on full inglorious display. It is clear from the photo that you have your face smashed between Sylus’s man tits. He is smiling wide, the laughter clear in bright eyes that stare straight into the camera lens and now into you, with your mouth agape at finding this as his contact picture on your phone.

He must be texting while letting the call continue, because the notification of a new text pops up over his contact picture.

My Sy: I can work with this facial expression too.

You shut your mouth so fast and hard that your teeth click.

My Sy: While I love your teeth most of the time, well need to work on that bite.

Before your brain melts from imagining what he could do with your open mouth and how he’d handle your sharp teeth, you slam your thumb on the end call button, power down your phone, stuff it back in your pocket, and begin marching toward the metro station to get home. Fuck him. Fuck the tacos. You’ll go to Xavier’s apartment with the spare key he gave you for when he’s out of town, order takeout, and hide for the rest of the night.

Suddenly, your phone begins vibrating once again. You stop again, this time startling a pair of teenage girls who take one look at your face and cross to the other side of the street before continuing in the same direction. Great, now you’re not just pummeling children at video games, but scaring them as well. You open your phone and see Sylus calling again. You stare at the one nipple you can see in the picture. Your mouth waters. You’re not even surprised that he has fucked with your phone to the point that he can simply turn it back on remotely if you decide to turn it off.

My Sy: I told you kitten, I can do this all day. Some friendly advice: might as well accept the inevitable and pick up. Im used to your attention now. I don’t like being ignored.

The phone keeps ringing, vibrating in your hand. You let your hands hang at your sides, and tilt your head to look up into the crisp, sunny autumn sky.

You wonder if you’re strong enough for this. You can eliminate wanderers in your sleep. You can outmanoeuvre, outfight, outgun and outlast most hostile humans. You can even outsmart and outplay most people you meet when you’ve had a proper night’s sleep. But you’ve never met anyone like Sylus Qin. You can’t hide in Xavier’s flat forever. No matter how friendly you’ve become since you first partnered with him, he’d probably throw you out the window if you tried. And eventually, Sylus will come to collect what he thinks you owe him for allowing you to shoot him through the fucking heart. Wouldn’t it better to pretend to be on good terms with him, to make it as painless as possible? Instead of being a stone wall, trying to keep him and all the ways you know he can already hurt you out, you can be like water. Let him and the pain he’ll bring simply… pass right through you. Water is resilient. And if he burns you, well. You already saw it coming, right? You’ll simply dissipate into a puff of steam and float away. With enough time, you’ll heal—you’ll re-coalesce in the atmosphere, and you’ll fall back into yourself like rain. You can survive him, if you can adapt quickly enough.

You lift the phone, dig your earbuds out of one of your pockets and put them in your ears, and then answer his video call.

“Took you long enough,” Sylus’s beautiful voice flows directly into your brain.

“Sorry, I was a bit busy. Can I help you with something?” You close your eyes and will your face to relax, let your shoulders fall. You breathe in, the earthy scent of dying leaves filling your nostrils. You are water. You open your eyes.

He’s staring at you through the phone, a slight frown on his severely handsome face.

“Sylus?” You hold the phone a little closer to yourself as people flow around you on the sidewalk. When you look back, he’s still just… watching you.

“I have to admit, sweetheart, that this is not the greeting I was expecting when you finally picked up.”

“And what were you expecting?” You decide to keep walking. You’ll be fine. This will be fine. Multitasking is good. One foot in front of the other, and Sylus’s face, so distant, but still in the palm of your hand, in a small way. You can be satisfied with this.

He takes a moment, seems to choose his words carefully. “A little more life,” he responds. You let your hand holding the phone fall to your side for a moment. It will take a little while, to fully get into the headspace where whatever he says, can’t affect you. You just need a little more time. You breathe, you breathe, you breathe.

You bring the phone back up to your face, make your way through the crowd on the sidewalk. People must be scrambling to enjoy the last few bright days of the year before the long slide into the dark fall. You hadn’t expected so many to be out and about on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“One would think you’d be used to me disappointing you by now,” you say, shrugging. “Can you tell me why you called?”

Sylus suddenly looks angry, and you resist the fear-fueled urge to throw your phone. You haven’t seen him look at you like that since… well. For a while.

“Sylus?”

“In what universe have you ever disappointed me?” he asks, voice even, controlled.

You can’t help it. You laugh. The kind of laugh that can spiral into something unhinged, if you weren’t water. Instead, it sinks into you like a stone. “Oh, I dunno, maybe this one, when you literally said ‘How disappointing’ and sneered that there was something wrong with me when I couldn’t resonate with you,” you say drily. You are water. Whatever he says next will simply ripple through you, and then fade into stillness.

But he doesn’t say anything. You peek at the phone screen. He’s looking away, his hand covering his mouth. You can’t tell what expression he’s making. Maybe Luke and Kieran are doing something silly offscreen.

In the end, none of it matters. “Okay, well, if you don’t want to tell me, I’m about to head into the metro. You can send a text if you change your mind.” Your thumb hovers over the end call button.

“I need your … particular talents this evening,” he answers right before your skin makes contact with the screen.

Oh. He really did have a reason to call— he needed your help with something dangerous.

That’s fine. You hadn’t actually had the fleeting thought that maybe he was calling because he just wanted to hear your voice, the way you never, ever found yourself feeling. Even in the past few days, since the Unfortunate Event of the Other Morning.

“And Kieran and Luke are unavailable this evening? Or anyone else from your hoard of henchmen who you can order to come back you up?” You’re being herded in a mass of other bodies into the metro station. You notice for the first time that Sylus is dressed really nicely—some sort of vest over a button down shirt. You find yourself trying to hold the phone discretely to minimize other people being able to see what you’re seeing.

“Kieran and Luke do not possess your particular talents. And besides, why would I want to see them this evening? I have to look at them on a daily basis, the last thing I want is to have to see them on a Saturday night.”

“I see. Had enough of a break from seeing me that you can stomach it again?” You smile, smooth as ice. Ice is just frozen water, right? You can ask Zayne to help—pick his brain to figure out how he stays so calm, in the face of so much chaos, not revealing a damn thing.

Sylus is just staring at you again, silver brows furrowed.

“So is it like, bring a gun to a knife fight kind of thinking? Do you really think that whatever situation you want my help with is too dangerous even for your minions?”

He just continues staring at you, and if anything, looks more displeased. You have no idea why he seems so pissed off. Maybe he’s rethinking asking for your help. You might be able to watch those movies after all.

“I see now that I've made a grave miscalculation,” he finally answers, rubbing his forehead. He suddenly sounds … tired? Or sad? You're so bad at reading other people.

You have no idea what you’re supposed to say to that, but you feel bad that he seems to be so exhausted and it sounds like your fault. You decide that you’ll help him tonight, with whatever he needs. And then maybe you will have finally, finally balanced the scales between you. And then you’ll be free.

After a few moments of you just awkwardly watching him in silence, he seems to come back to himself. “Why bring a gun to a knife fight when you can bring a grenade launcher?” He adjusts the buttons on the deep red vest under his tailored black suit jacket. The black shirt underneath the vest has its first few buttons undone, exposing his pale throat and collarbone. He’s also wearing a black leather collar, and you once again imagine a cute, bell on it, chiming with every one of his movements. You do not think about slipping a finger under the thick strip of leather and pulling him down, down to your level.

You shake your head. “I’m the grenade launcher in this little metaphor? What about you?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He pulls a watch over his hand, something antique and mechanical that probably ticks loudly when its quiet, and it clicks heavily as he fastens it on his thick wrist. You suddenly think of the night you spent searching for his brooch, the handcuffs around those same wrists, how he let them hold him there for you as your hands ran along his arms, under his soft silk robe, across—

“Then I think you’ll do just fine on your own tonight,” you clip out, wondering how much it would hurt if you slammed your face into the metro car’s heavily smudged, reinforced window in an effort to dislodge the intrusive thoughts that have become alarmingly frequent the longer you let this man stay in your life.

“Violence should be used strategically, sweetie. I would prefer to reserve the nuclear option for when it’s actually necessary. And isn’t it your job as an upstanding citizen to de-escalate conflict? Having you by my side will not only be useful for me, but is actually a public service for any bystanders.”

“I serve Linkon City, not the N109 zone.” You don’t know why you’re arguing. You had already made up your mind to help him. But the return of this familiar, smug and argumentative Sylus seems to pull you back into the pattern that is so easily repeated between the two of you.

“What an appallingly shortsighted response from someone who I know has gone to other cities and even other countries to fight wanderers in order to protect non-Linkon City citizens. Are the people of the N109 zone not also worthy of your devotion?”

It’s hot in the metro car, and you’re relieved as your stop approaches. You wait until you’re able to shoulder your way out of the mass of bodies and can breathe fresh air in order to respond freely.

“For shit’s sake Sylus, how did we go from hesitation about whether you actually need me to serve as your bodyguard tonight to me failing my duty to protect innocent people?”

“Is that honestly the only thing you can imagine when I request your talents? When did I ask you to be my bodyguard?” he asks, but before you can respond, he continues, “You’re the one who insists that you aren’t available to help people in the N109 zone tonight.”

“You, Sylus. Not people, you.” You step aside to allow a man with an adorable tiny fluffy dog move past, but it stops and sniffs you instead of moving along. You glance at the man, who’s actually quite handsome in a Finance Guy kind of way, which means he’ll be handsome to you up until the point he opens his mouth, but you can’t resist asking “May I pet this cutie?”

The guy’s face lights up. “Go ahead! Cricket loves pats.”

“Aww, Cricket is such an adorable name for such an adorably doggy!” You kneel down and offer your hand for Cricket to sniff, and then run your hand along the dog’s soft fur. It preens and arches its back, and then curls its hips around to ensure that you give it scritches near its tail.

“Aren’t you a good doggy,” you murmur, feeling the tension melt from your shoulders. You would love to have a pet, if you only had the time to take care of it. You give Cricket one final pat, and then stand back up. “Thank you, I really needed that,” you smile at Cricket’s dad.

“Anytime! Do you live in the neighborhood? Maybe, if you want—”

Suddenly you hear a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and the shock makes you wince.

“Or not,” the man rushes out. “It was just a thought.” He waves awkwardly, and then continues along his way, having to pull on Cricket's lead a little bit as the dog only reluctantly moves away from you.

You’re left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened. You look back down to your phone, where Sylus is looking somewhere off screen with a bored expression on his face. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“My apologies for interrupting your little interlude. It appears Mephisto knocked my phone off my nightstand,” he shrugs. “He’s not as well-behaved as… Cricket, it would seem.”

Interlude? What interlude? Petting a dog? “Uh, okay? I thought Mephisto isn’t a pet.”

“Correct.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he remains serenely silent. “So why are we comparing Mephisto to a random dog on the street?”

“We’re not,” he lies. You stare at him. He seems to think for a moment, eyes moving back to the screen, taking in whatever he’s seeing on your side. Probably an unflattering view of your chin disappearing into your neck as you look directly down at your phone, still trying to weave through people on the sidewalk to get to your flat. You lower your head even further, trying to give him a good view up your nostrils, as a treat. There is no universe in which you care about what you look like to him. None. Certainly not this one. Finally, he speaks. “In any case, back to business. How about I make you a deal?”

In your happy break petting Cricket you had forgotten about the world, including what Sylus is demanding of you.

“If you come to me… and lend me your talents tonight, I’ll owe you a favor.”

You snort. “You already owe me for every day I haven’t delivered your head to my employer.”

“Then I’ll owe you a favor that I actually acknowledge owing to you,” he responds calmly. “Because I think you benefit just as much as I do from not delivering any piece of me, including my … head, to the authorities.”

You do not imagine any pieces of him. Delivering them, or doing anything else with them.

You’re finally within sight of your building. “I see. So you’ll owe me a favor. Any restrictions? Or are you actually offering me anything I want?”

“Anything you want. No restrictions, no conditions.”

“What if I told you to turn yourself in?” you ask, genuinely curious if he actually has no limits on this so-called favor.

“Done,” he says easily. Your feel your eyes widen, and he continues. “But again, for the same reasons that you haven’t already betrayed me, I don’t think that’s the favor you’ll call in.”

“And you’re really willing to place all your bets on that? Maybe I just haven’t turned you in out of laziness.” You watch him slip a pair of gloves on one big hand, and then the other, the supple leather gliding over his hands like a second skin.

“I’m all in on that bet.”

“And why’s that?”

“You are the furthest from the definition of laziness that I have ever encountered,” he says gravely. “And let’s just say, aside from the aforementioned benefits you enjoy with me walking around free, I think you’re more fond of me than you care to admit, even to yourself.”

You make a disgusted noise. “Let’s hope for your sake that your confidence isn’t misplaced.”

“Oh, there is no question that my confidence, in all things, is justified,” he smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking.

His arrogance is so thick, even through the phone, that you could gag on it. “Ugh,” is all you can say.

“Excellent. See you at 23:00. I’ll text you the address. I advise dressing appropriately and to bring the toy I left you when I had a headache, kitten.” And with that, he disconnects the call, leaving you standing in your elevator, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

And now, here you are. Black leather pants, combat boots, a semiautomatic with red flames engraved along the hand grip in your side holster underneath your black leather jacket, various knives strapped along your forearms and in your boots. You brought two duffel bags with you. One is full of toys that might be useful if things get really ugly. The other simply contains something of Sylus’s that you’ve been wanting to return ever since he left it at your place. As you were getting ready, it occurred to that this might be the last chance you have to give it to him.

You’re standing in line in front of some upscale nightclub, waiting for your turn to be judged by the bouncer and either admitted or refused. Likely the latter, if Sylus doesn’t show up soon.

You showed up at exactly 23:00, approaching the long line with trepidation. You hadn’t realized when Sylus sent the address that it was actually a nightclub called Amnesia—a rather exclusive nightclub, with a selective policy regarding who they allow in. You hadn’t realized this until you saw the subtle sign glowing softly in the N109 zone's perpetual gloom and did a quick search on your phone. Most of the club goers are dressed in surprisingly tasteful club clothes—tightly tailored pants, artfully low necklines and backless tops, sensual dresses, except the sequins—so, so many shiny sequins. You squint and wonder how the hell you’re going to get in dressed like you’re ready for a biker rally with an arsenal big enough to stage a small coup. Mission objective number one, adequate renaissance of the target location: failed. But it’s your bedtime and you don’t even want to be here in the first place, so this is Sylus’s problem to solve. You wait. And you wait. The line inches forward. The longer you wait, the more irritated you get. Where the fuck is he? You glance at your phone, but there are no new messages.

So you dutifully stand in line, which continues forward at a very slow pace, quickly outpaced by your anger. You notice that the group of women in front of you have clearly been pre-gaming pretty hard. They’ve noticed you, and are side-eyeing your outfit. You’re worrying they’re going to say something mean, when one of them glides over to you effortlessly on very tall high heels. You straighten your spine and prepare yourself. I am a role model for the Deepspace Hunter’s Association, I will not punch a civilian in the solar plexus for saying something mean to me about the fact that I am a fashion disaster. I will not—

“You look so badass,” she grins, tossing her silky brunette hair over her shoulder. One of her friends sidles up behind her. “For real, and like, really hot. This whole look is a vibe.” She waves one beautifully manicured nail in front of you, to encompass the whole of your outfit.

You squint again, wondering if they’re making fun of you, but the entire lot of them are nodding and chattering amongst themselves. “Is it like, a cosplay event or something? Did we miss the announcement on Amnesia’s socials? I want to dress like I can murder someone with a look too!”

“Hey, I think most of our heels are sharp enough to count as weapons, right?” the first one says to her friend, and then looks at you hopefully for… confirmation? Approval?

“Oh, definitely,” you encourage her, because she really does seem earnest. “You can stomp your opponent on the foot or go for the groin! And you know, if you hold your keys like this,” you say, fishing your motorcycle keys out of your leather pants and holding the long, narrow part of the key between the knuckles of your index and middle finger while clutching the wider base in your palm, “you can use them as an improvised shiv! Just go for the eyes! Or the throat!”

You’re met with a chorus of “Ooooohs,” and wide, perfectly winged eyes. You’re feeling like a pretty good teacher when your phone dings. You fish it out of the inside of your leather jacket.

My Sy: Youre late.

You glare at the screen.

“Can you teach us that look, too? You look like you really want to end someone,” one of the women asks hesitantly. You nod.

You: no, you’re late. i’ve been standing out front since 23:00.

You look back up to your new friend and point at your eyebrows, lowering them to an exaggerated degree. She nods and tries to mimic you. Her gorgeous, perfectly plucked brows form a scowl. You nod and look back at your phone.

My Sy: Youre standing in front of the club?

You: huh, mr. sylus qin’s not as omniscient as he likes to pretend. looks like you should fire mephisto.

My Sy: No such luck, sweetie. Ive decided to put him on permanent kitten observation duty after tonight. Why are you standing out front, instead of going inside?

You point at your chin now, and lower your head so that you’re looking at the club girl like a bull about to charge. She gives you a thumbs up and lowers her head, and then stomps her foot for good measure.

You: because there’s a line. which you’d know, if you bothered to show up.

My Sy: Of course. I should have known youd obey the rules and refuse to jump the line. Another miscalculation on my part. Stay put.

You roll your eyes. Of course he expects you to just keep waiting. Maybe he needs to find a parking spot. You turn to your friend. “Yeah, you look really intimidating now! Do that to the next person who hits on you and won’t take no for an answer.” You grin at her.

She laughs and you two proceed to try to out-glare each other, until you see her eyes go wider than previous attempts. You tense when you sense a large presence behind you, but calmly turn, hand drifting to your jacket holster containing the gun Sylus gave you.

It’s just the bouncer. Or at least, you think she’s the bouncer. She’s tall, muscular, and has a tight black t-shirt with Amnesia written in small, tasteful letters in the middle, right under the collar.

“Are you…” she pauses, and checks her tablet again. “The boss’s ‘sweet little hunter?’” she intones, clearly reading the words against her will, but she manages to keep the look of disgust that you’re pretty sure is trying to fight its way onto her face from appearing with admirable professionalism.

“By boss, you mean…?” You already know the answer. Of course you do. Your anger ratchets up another notch.

“Mr. Sylus Qin,” she says. “So are you the hunter, or not?”

You nod. “All right, follow me.” She lifts the velvet rope, and your new friends wave enthusiastically and cheer loudly for you as the bouncer leads you past the crowd and into the club. You stare at the bouncer's back, where her shirt reads ‘security’ in large block letters. She has an obvious pistol harness crisscrossed over her strong shoulders with two semiautomatics strapped into each holster. This is the N109 zone after, all. It doesn’t surprise you that Sylus’s bouncers are well-armed.

Once inside, she gestures vaguely towards the back of the huge space and says “He’s waiting for you in the Lethe VIP lounge.” And then she’s gone.

You quickly scan your surroundings, assessing threats, noting exits and bottlenecks. The atmosphere is completely different than THE BOOM BOOM ROOM, the only club you’ve visited recently. This place smells expensive. No stale beer and stale sweat, but probably diffusers hidden along the walls that emit the scent of sandalwood and other subtle spices. The music is full of reverb, heavy, with slow beats, sensual—specifically composed to make the listener feel reckless and sexy after a few strong drinks. The décor is a blend of vintage details and modern sleekness, and somehow it works to create the impression of tasteful decadence.

A long, dark wooden bar lines one wall, with standing tables and booths filling the space in front of it. Vases of fresh, dark-petaled flowers sit on each surface. Beyond the seating area, the dance floor spreads out in front of a slightly raised stage, where a DJ is playing to coordinated LED lights. Acrobatic performers, faces painted to resemble crying jesters and theatrical masks, hang suspended by hoops from the ceiling above the dance floor. They slowly twist and arch their bodies through, over, and off the hoops, spinning gently over the heads of the surging dancers.

If nothing else, it has been worth coming tonight to watch one in particular, with curly ginger hair, lean chest bare, arching gracefully through a sequence, bowing their back until their foot touches the top of their head. You wonder what kind of mobility exercise routine is required to attain that level of flexibility, and make a note to do an online search—but you’re here on a mission. Although the longer you look, the less you understand why Sylus asked for your help tonight. The place is crawling with security. He has a small army on staff. Why does he need you?

As your assessing gaze continues to wander, you see two familiar figures at the far end of the bar. And a third, unfamiliar person standing with them. From across the darkened, tastefully lit room, you see a beautiful woman. She’s wearing a tasteful suit, dark hair coiled in beautiful braids. She’s laughing at something one of the twins has just said, her slender hand on his shoulder. They have the easy familiarity of people who have known each other for a long time.

She looks like who you had imagined, as Sylus told you that you had the sophistication of a cactus. You look down at your scuffed combat boots. The clunky duffel bags clutched in your gloved hands, in this beautiful nightclub full of beautiful people. You look back at Sylus’s associates. One of the twins has his masked face turned towards you, but you have no idea if he has noticed you. You turn away.

You are water. You can drown in yourself, before anyone can drown you first. You won’t give them the satisfaction. You focus on the dancers again. The handsome ginger catches your eye, and smiles. Your heart hurts, they’re so pretty.

You haven’t heard shit from Sylus since he told you to sit tight. He didn’t bother to give you proper intel about this night at all. And he clearly already has all the security he could possibly need in this edgy, sensual monstrosity of an establishment. You’re suddenly so pissed you can hardly see straight. You could be watching John Wick 16: the Penultimate Chapter right now, but instead your heart is drowning in your chest and the person he was probably dreaming about the other morning is in the same damn room. You make a fist and pound your chest, once, hard, right over your heart.

The pain brings you back to your senses. You turn away from the dancers, find a staircase leading to the upper floors of the club, and take two steps at a time, relieved that the rooms on the top floor have elegant nameplates, each named after something in mythology regarding memory and the psyche. You stop in front of a black door with the plate reading ‘Lethe’, and kick open the door. What? Your hands are fucking full.

Inside, the room is as over the top and beautiful as the lower floors of the club. You have an impression of deep maroon walls, black leather furniture, low-slung and perfect for fucking, for an orgy really, your intrusive thoughts tell you. There are people: the twins, the woman. Huh. They must have slipped upstairs while you were staring at the dancers again. And there are two men, but you only catalogue the men long enough to determine that they are not visibly armed. No threats. All you can see now is the relaxed man straight ahead of you, at the back of the room, his arms stretched wide across the back of the black leather booth, manspreading as usual.

You reach down, fling the duffel full of weapons over your shoulder, and unzip the other, incredibly full one as you stride towards the smug asshole who summoned you here.

“Finally, I was starting to—” Sylus’s voice hardly penetrates the fog of rage coursing through you.

“I have a present for you,” you interrupt him, and he perks up, a subtle smile lifting one corner of his beautiful mouth, but that’s the last you see of him before you expertly launch the absolutely stuffed duffel bag at him. It lands on his lap, where you aimed it, and the feathers he left on your bed the other morning explode into the air and gently rain down on him, covering him from head to toe in a thick layer of black. At least the landslide that has spread from him to the booth are hardly distinguishable from the leather.

You were right. The only thing you can hear in the ensuing silence is the tick of his fancy fucking watch.

You close your eyes. That felt good. You open them. He’s still sitting in the same relaxed position, but now there are black feathers caught in his silky silver hair, dusting his shoulders, filling his lap. He makes no effort to brush them off.

“You really didn’t have to, kitten,” he says peacefully into the ticking, shocked silence. "You already had my attention without launching another aerial assault."

“I know. But I couldn’t bear the thought of how sad the feathers would be, separated from you. I couldn’t just leave them to suffer on my bed.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you slam your hand over it. Oh shit. If that woman really is his actual object of interest, you just made it sound like something is going on between you and Sylus that most definitely isn’t. You glance at her. She’s watching you from between the twins, and has a grin on her face. Maybe she didn’t hear…?

Someone clears their throat. You turn again, this time sweeping your gaze over the two well-dressed, handsome men, one seated next to Sylus and (you wince) who caught some of the feather fallout, and the other seated across the low table from Sylus. They’re dressed sharply, but not like they’re going clubbing. Almost like this is a… business meeting. But the dude who got caught as collateral feather damage is seated like, really close to Sylus. Now that you're actually looking at him, you realize that he’s really beautiful. Like, as pretty as Xavier. He's looking at Sylus, grinning from ear to ear. His teeth are blindingly white. Maybe it’s not the beautiful woman who Sylus was dreaming about, but this guy?

Why do you even care? You are a waterfall, drowning out any inconvenient feelings about this wanted felon. You are not a psycho who assumes that everyone who breathes the same air as Sylus is a potential romantic rival. Not even a rival, because you’re not competing. This is not a competition, you have no horse in this race, this is neither your circus nor your monkeys, you were just the hired help for the evening and it’s clear that there is a surplus of staff in the security department tonight so you’re going to go home and watch a man murder a football stadium worth of humans because of a puppy.

“Well, I’m so sorry to have interrupted,” you say, as if you had just accidentally peeked into the wrong room, instead of careening in here like a cannonball and launching a full scale feather assault on the owner of the establishment like a lunatic. “I will get out of your feathers—I mean, hair.” You bow slightly, because why the fuck not, tighten your hold on your remaining duffel. Sylus can just keep the other one—you definitely do not want a souvenir from this night. You then stride back the way you came.

You refuse to turn and look at Mister Toothpaste Commercial sitting next to Sylus again as you go. But as you approach the twins, you can’t help but take one last look at the woman since she’s standing next to your exit. You’re just curious. Nothing else. Just a curious little… lake. Because you’re water. And nothing can hurt you if you’re just a placid lake in a serene forest.

Yikes, after getting a better look at her face, you realize she is young. Like, teenager young? Okay, age gaps are fine if both parties have a certain level of maturity. Who are you to judge? You hope if she is the one he wants to bite that they’re happy together. Really. You’re just the bottom of the ocean, and you can survive great pressure.

“Are you just going to leave right after giving me such a considerate gift, without allowing me to even thank you?” Sylus’s sardonic voice seems to fill the room.

You stop, but can’t bring yourself to turn around. “No thanks necessary. It's not even a gift. Just returning property to its rightful owner.” You take another step.

“What about our deal? You still haven’t given me what we bargained for tonight.”

This time you turn your head. “I’m pretty sure you have enough security for your needs tonight. Let’s just call everything off, okay? No one owes anyone anything, and you can offer that favor to someone else.” You look at the girl, but she’s not smiling anymore—rather, she’s looking at you with… confused disgust? Fuck it’s hard to read people. Maybe she’s suffering from intestinal gas. Maybe Sylus carries around lactase tablets for both the twins and his girlfriend.

Someone clears their throat behind you. “Sir, perhaps I should return another time when you’re not so entangled in… domestic strife,” a respectful voice sounds behind you. You whip around. The man seated across from Sylus and wearing a nicely tailored blue suit is glancing between you and Sylus.

“Oh no,” you say, holding up your gloved hands. “No, sorry, this isn’t .. a domestic anything. Like, we are not like that.” You shake your head. The man suddenly looks relieved. You feel encouraged. You don’t want Mister Toothpaste Commercial or Miss Jailbait to get the wrong idea. You’re nobody.

You look at Sylus. He just looks steadily back at you, as if waiting to see what the next spectacle you have to offer will be. Why isn’t he saying anything to deny such an absurd allegation?

“So you are not the partner he wanted to introduce to me tonight, is that correct?”

He wanted to introduce his partner to this guy? Who even is this guy? You know what? None of your business. All you need to know is that he does, in fact, have a partner, and that partner, is in fact, not you, and it doesn’t matter that he helped you fall asleep a few times and touched you like you were precious, because he has a partner and that partner is not you and might be the child bride over there in the corner or the teeth whitening product model on the booth next to him. You are water so deep that you’re the Marianas trench. You’re so deep, no life can survive at all. You ignore the fact that you think you read somewhere that little weird volcanic tube worms can survive down there. Because where there’s no life, there’s no pain: the only solace of death. You’re fine. No tube worms at all.

“That’s correct. Just ask him! I mean, I’m not his type. And honestly, he’s not mine.”

The man looks alarmed for a moment, like he is afraid for you to keep going. But you do anyway. You try really hard to think about why Sylus wouldn’t be your type, when everything about him is gorgeous and intelligent and fascinating and when he wants to be, so, so sweet. “I mean, I’m only interested in someone who is tall. And who clearly spends enough time in the gym. Like, ripped. And who’s actually incredibly bright, who can make running multiple businesses look easy. And someone who seems really scary at first glance, but is actually heartbreakingly sweet when he feels like it. And funny! Who can honestly make me laugh on the worst day of my life.” You trail off. Clear your throat. “So no. Sylus is not my type.” You snap your mouth shut. You rub your heart—it must still ache from when you hit it earlier. That’s all this pain is.

The man, who has nice dark hair, and nicely trimmed facial hair, and nice shoes that may be oxfords or brogues but you have no fucking clue which, nods slowly, as if what you just said isn’t wildly awkward. “Oh, so when you said you wanted to introduce us to your partner,” he looks back curiously at Sylus, then at the woman standing with the twins. “Are you who he meant?”

Okay, is this guy just going to ignore Mister Toothpaste Commercial as a potential love interest? Maybe he’s bi-phobic. You don't know where Sylus's tastes lie. Again, not your business. You’re going to stomp your phone to smithereens the second you get out of here, you’re not going to stay at Xavier’s, because it’s too close to home. You’re going to Rafayel’s, and you’re going to sell your place. You’re going to apply for a hunter position in the arctic. You will be surrounded by snow there, all the frozen water you could ever want, and you’re never going to find yourself in such a fucked up situation ever again.

“I’m afraid not,” Sylus says. “She's not my type.”

You pause, just for a second. You don’t actually want to hear why she’s not his type, because in the end, it’s not your business. And even if you thought she was his partner there for a few minutes, you don’t want to hear him say things that might hurt her feelings. Because you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Sylus's disdain, and it sucks.

“I’m only interested in someone who is effortlessly surprising." He looks at you. "Who uses their strength to protect the weak, instead of exploiting them. Whose tongue is sharp enough to match my own. A tongue I don’t mind surrendering myself to, to be shredded on again, and again.”

Again, there’s only the ticking of that insufferable, sexy watch on his insufferable, thick wrist.

Your heart doesn’t hurt at his description. At all. You must have just really hit it a little too hard earlier. You're a raindrop. It's your job to splatter all over the ground. You're just doing your job. You've always been very, very good at doing your job.

The person he’s describing sounds fascinating, and the perfect match for him. He'll never get bored with them, and maybe their goodness will rub off on him. Good for him. You had wanted to be friends with him, right? Before you realized that you might actually have feelings beyond hate, beyond wanting to fuck his brains out and then never speaking to him again. This is good. Your friends deserve people they can care about the way he just described caring about this person. Everyone should get to experience that in their life, at least once.

The silence and your thoughts are shattered when Miss Child Bride snorts. “Thank fuck. Cause we already went over why that would be gross.” She turns to Kieran and Luke. “Now I see what you mean. What a shitshow.”

“Right?” One of the twins responds. “So are you in?”

“Yeah. But I see your two weeks and raise you two months.”

The other twin fist bumps her. “You’re on.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Clear the room,” he commands.

Kieran, Luke and Miss Jailbait all do little lackadaisical salutes and turn to leave. As the girl walks past you, she waves her hand in front of your face. You jerk back, hand instinctively going to the knife strapped on your thigh.

“Woah there, hunter. No need to get defensive.” She grins at you.

You suppress the urge to see how big she'd be smiling if you swept her legs out from under her sensible heels and then did a diving elbow drop onto her prone form as punishment for invading your space. She might be Sylus's partner and thus owed some respect because you respect him, but you don't like when people you don't know get in your space. “What the fuck was that for?” you ask instead, because you're polite.

“Just trying to see if you're blind.”

One of the twins puts his hand on her shoulder. “Rule number four: refrain from teasing boss’s pet hunter, or else he will get angry.”

“Yeah, cause he likes to do it himself.” The other twin chimes in, putting his hand on her other shoulder. “Let’s go get you to Linda before you're fired before you’re actually hired.” They guide her out the door.

You just stand there. You feel like what just happened is really offensive, to someone, somewhere, but you have no fucking clue why.

The two men have also gotten to their feet and are now moving past you, and Mister Toothpaste Commercial is grinning at you like you just made his night for some reason. Why is everyone in here a nutcase? you wonder hypocritically. You tighten your hold on your duffel and start trailing after them.

Only to be lifted in the air by the scarlet-ink tendrils of Sylus’s evol, its energy making the hair along your arms stand on end. “Not you, kitten.”

Against your will, you find yourself being carried gently to the booth and deposited onto the surprisingly soft leather, right next to Sylus. The feathers puff up, and then settle around you again.

Wordlessly, Sylus slips the duffel’s handle from your shoulder and with a little surprised grunt of effort, sets it on his other side. Yeah, it's heavy. You brought a lot of hardware in case things went south tonight. Which they did, just not in the way you anticipated. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him sweep a look from your head to your toes. “I tell you that I need your talents and to dress appropriately, and this is what you show up wearing?” he asks, as if all of the weirdness that just happened is of no significance. He sounds genuinely curious.

“Well, yeah. I can't wear my hunter gear into the N109 zone, and figured the leather was better than my usual cargo pants and harness. If we had to fight our way out of a group of assailants, or jump out of a window onto say, a gravel surface, this is still a lot more practical than…” you pause, eyeing his attire in turn. The black suit with the scarlet vest he is wearing is clearly tailored to fit him like the gloves stretching over his huge hands. You refuse to look at his hands. The fabric of his suit lovingly embraces his broad shoulders, nips in at his narrow waist, and leaves very little to the imagination regarding what he’s… packing, on both sides of the whole package. You will not think about what he is packing. What you felt against you, the other morning—

“I see. So this is what you consider your talents?” His voice mercifully interrupts your not thinking about bulges and the ‘Is that a billy club in your pants or are you just happy to see me’ dumpster fire in your head.

“This? What do you mean by ‘this’?”

“The ability to be prepared for any violent scenario and meet it with competence, in the service of someone else.” His blood bright eyes bore into you, and you know he’s not using his aether core on you, but it kind of feels like it.

“What else could you have meant?” you ask, genuinely confused. You eliminate wanderers. You fight, apprehend and on occasion, have had to kill humans who would have killed you if you had hesitated. You can’t think of any other talents you might possess that Sylus would want. Or any other talents, at all. Even if you could remember who you were when you were a child, you’ve been a hunter long enough now that it’s hard to remember who you were before you put on the uniform and dedicated yourself to defending those who are unable to defend themselves.

“Yes, what indeed? Good question, kitten.”

“And you didn’t tell me that you wanted me to meet you at one of your nightclubs,” you mutter, the irritation surging again. “If you didn’t want me to show up and embarrass you, ready for a fight, you could have just said so.”

“Is proper intel gathering before going on a mission not part of your hunter’s handbook?” Sylus asks, running a finger along your leather-clad shoulder.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why didn’t you investigate the location of our rendezvous tonight before heading out?”

You look away from him, staring through what you now realize is a one-way mirror. The room looks out over the two floors below, each with dance floors and bars, pulsating lights, tables adorned with those strange beautiful flowers. The undulating bodies of dancers are lit dramatically from the light show pulsing to the rhythm of the music.

You frown. “Since it was you, I just assumed it was some shady warehouse or something.”

Sylus is quiet, but you feel his finger continue drifting along your shoulder until his hand comes to rest on the back of the booth near your other shoulder. “That’s an unfortunate habit you’ve had, since the first time we met.”

You turn to look at him, only to find his face so close to yours that you can count the dark striations in his red, red irises. They’re all you can see for a long moment.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, because anything else would feel like shouting in the quiet of the room, with his face so close to yours.

“Assuming things about me.”

You’re alert enough to know that he’s not just talking about your assumption that tonight would take place somewhere dangerous. Your thoughts flit to your assumption that he had… that he had been responsible for the house explosion. For your grandmother and Caleb. Your assumption that he wouldn’t have a plan for dealing with his enemies at the auction. Your assumption that he would take advantage of your nudity in the hallway of your home by looking his fill. What else have you assumed about him? You remember his bite along your shoulder, and the assumption that it was meant for someone else. “You only tell me what you feel like telling me. How else am I supposed to fill in the blanks?” you ask.

Sylus’s hand along the back of the booth drifts back to your shoulder, over the collar of your jacket, up the sensitive skin along the back of your neck. His fingers find their way into your hair, and he gently runs them through its locks. It feels so good, you have to stifle a groan of pleasure.

“You could always ask me,” he says.

“Would you even answer me? You have a habit of answering questions with other questions,” you sigh, giving in to the temptation to let your head fall back into his big palm, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. You try to let your hands rest at your sides, but jerk a little when one of them lands on his big thigh. You move it, but he grabs it with his hand that isn't busy in your hair, and rests it back on his thigh again. He’s so warm, as always. You shouldn’t want to let him touch you like this if he has someone else. You can’t bring yourself to move.

“Well, you won’t find out until you try, will you?” he asks. You let your head roll in his hand, so you can see his face.

“Who was that man sitting next to you earlier?” you ask. Maybe if you start simple, you’ll lull him into telling you the truth when you ask him what you really need to know. What you don’t want to actually know, because then the illusion of Sylus treating only you like this, the illusion that you’re special, will dissipate like mist under sunlight.

His fingers pause, but then he continues caressing you. “That’s Aidan.”

You wait. He stares at you steadily. “You’re really going to make me ask detailed follow up questions, instead of just answering the question fully?” you scowl at him, but don’t move. His hand in your hair feels too damn good. He smiles, clearly amused by your frustration.

“I don’t give away intelligence for free. I need something in return for providing you thorough responses to all of your burning questions.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“What do you want, Sylus?” you ask. If the price is too high, you’ll somehow stand up and walk away, and live with wondering for the rest of your life about who these people in his life are, and if he belongs to someone else.

“The price will depend on the quantity of intel you request tonight,” he gently tugs on a fistful of your hair. You are boneless. You are melting into the couch from the pleasure, despite the negotiation.

“I could always use the favor you owe me for even coming out tonight,” you remind him.

“I think not. You haven’t earned that favor yet. The only thing you’ve done tonight is show up late and assault me with plumage.”

“Excuse you, I was here at exactly eleven. It’s you who were late in realizing that you didn’t exactly tell me where to find you. And as for my present, just think of it as me contributing to a more environmentally sustainable lifestyle. I could have just trashed them, but instead I re-gifted them. Now you can stuff a fleet of throw pillows or the body of an enemy to display as a warning to others.”

Sylus laughs softly. “What a delightful image.”

“I'm fucking delightful,” you sniff.

He hums in agreement. You both sit there in companionable silence, with only the distant sound of the club below and his hands moving in your hair filling the space between you. After awhile, he says, “So what will it be? Are you willing to buy now, and pay later for the opportunity to interrogate me?”

You want to know. You don’t want to know. You follow the sharp lines of his face with your eyes: his panther eyes, his aquiline nose, his generous mouth, the cut of his jaw. You’re so tired of making a decision, only to fold and abandon it in the face of his indomitable will. You want off this roller coaster ride already. You need to decide whether you’re in, and want to be a part of Sylus’s life, in whatever form he’ll have you, or out. And then, once you’ve made your decision, you need to have the steel resolve that he so effortlessly displays—if you’re in, you’ll bury your affection and misplaced hope in him, and treat him like any other friend. If you’re out, you will destroy your phone. You will move. You will ask for a transfer that will put you out of his reach for a long enough period of time that he’ll finally lose interest in toying with you. You sit up, and his hand falls away from your hair.

“Do you have a coin on you? The one you do that little villain bit with when your mind is racing?”

His eyebrows lift a little, as if he’s surprised that you noticed that he tends to fidget when he’s thinking hard. The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Villain bit?”

“Do you have it?” you repeat.

“I do.”

“May I use it for a moment?”

He stares at you, amusement fading. Whatever he sees on your face has him letting go of your hand and reaching for his pocket, but suddenly your own arm is jerked forward.

“What the—” you try to pull away, but only succeed in slightly pulling Sylus’s arm back toward you. You look down and find the scarlet-golden glimmer of the energy shackles linking your wrist to his. You haven’t been linked like this since the one and only time you managed to resonate with him.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

Sylus looks down as well, and then scowls deeply. “Why are you asking me? I was wondering what was on your mind, but was willing to let you keep your secrets for now. However, now I must insist on knowing what’s going on in that busy brain of yours.” He lifts your linked hands and gently taps your forehead with his index finger.

You try to pull away again, but he just grasps your hand in his, tightly.

You glare at him. He stares at you.

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful, kitten. Don’t make offers you’re not ready for me to accept.”

You look away. The club below is fascinating. You will not let him win. Finally, you hear him huff. He brings your clasped hands to his trouser pocket, slipping both into it. You feel his strong hip along the back of your hand through the cloth of his pocket. He pulls your hands out again and releases yours. And then, coin held between his index and middle finger, he solemnly offers it to you.

“Which side comes up more often than the other?” you ask as you take it from his fingers with your unlinked hand, careful not to touch him.

“Tails,” he responds immediately. You don’t trust him for a second.

If it’s heads, you’ll walk away from him and the life that allows him access to you.

If it’s tails, you’ll ask him who these people were tonight and whether he has a partner. You’ll be his friend, no matter what, and close off that needy, delusional part of yourself that hopes for more from him, and you’ll never think of it again.

You toss the coin in the air and watch it as it flashes, twisting in the air. You catch it in your palm. You take a deep breath. You open your palm.

You are the water in a bottomless well. All of the things that can hurt you are down so deep, you’ll never be able to access them again. You let the fledgling feelings for this impossible man slip quietly into the well. You’re a serene pond, reflecting an endless blue sky, and there’s nothing underneath at all.

“Who is Aidan?” you ask.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #how many tags are there in this fandom this is exhausting #my fanfic #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #yup you #i really meant to resolve the misunderstanding in this part #but this ending up being way too long #so the big question for mc will be answered at the beginning of the next part #which is half written #i'm not going to drag it out too long #thanekrios ensured that this part is only slightly grilled cheese instead of an entire cheese board #i hope it's enjoyable

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fallstaticexit · 3 months ago

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୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

AN: Prelude to a WIP untitled mini story featuring a quick look into the life of the infamous Nancy Landgraab. I've had my nose buried in my computer screen this weekend working feverishly to get this out my system (affectionately of course). Pretty excited for what’s to come! I'll likely start this up sometime towards the end of Missing Moments, but knowing me, I'll probably work on them at the same time since they're stand alone stories. 😌 I will take the moment to list the trigger warnings for this story below the cut. Pretty heavy themes but I am expanding my writing and will always handle with care. TW + Transcript Below

Trigger Warnings:

Homophobia / Religious Trauma / Death via Car Accident/ Drugs / Alcohol / Infidelity / Sex & Nudity

Source where I found Nancy’s parent’s name. Her brother, Nathan is an OC :

Landgraab Family Tree

Transcript:

Nancy Narrating: [I was always good at hiding]

[I’d hide from the maids, the cooks, the nannies. No one could ever find me]

[I could hide for hours, completely unseen, as if I were invisible, as if I had never been there to begin with.]

[Among the maids, the cooks, the nannies, and even my own parents, it was Nathan who would always come looking me. Nathan was the one person in the world who truly noticed me ]

Nathan: Oh, I wonder where little Nan is.

Nathan: [chuckles weakly] There you are. I’m glad I found you.

Nathan: I’m sorry you had to hear all that, Nan. I know you don’t understand...but- maybe things will be better for you than they are for me.

Nathan: I’ll come back for you one day, Nan. I promise. Just...please don’t hate me for leaving. I-I can’t stay here anymore. I’m so sick of fighting them. Sick of hiding. [sniffs]

Nancy: [whispers] Bye-bye.

Nathan: Goodbye, Nancy.

[If only I knew better. I would have begged him to stay]

Queenie: [choked sob]

Officer: We’re sorry, ma’am.

[I never really grew out of hiding ]

[A part of me hoped Nathan would come back and find me]

[What a childish thought]

Queenie: [on the phone] I don’t care what you have to do- fix it. I want this problem gone. All of it. [tsks] This child will be the death of me.

Queenie: [on the phone] She’ll stay until all the fuss is over. Rest assured, I will see to it before Chester becomes a laughing stock. [call ends]

Queenie: This is for your own good, Nancy. I’ve already lost a son, and I refuse to compromise the honor associated with our family name. When you marry a good man and raise his children, you’ll understand.

Vanessa: [snorts] Oh shit. Busted.

Vanessa: You’re not a narc, are you?

Nancy: Fuck no. Can I bum one?

Vanessa: Sure.

[After all those years, I thought I had forgotten-]

[what it feels like to be seen]

#sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #nancy landgraab #sims 4 legacy #ts4 simblr #sims 4 community #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 #ts4 story

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damneddamsy · 20 days ago

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second sight | cregan stark x oc (part ix)

a/n: on today's episode of Stark angst-fluff, it's all bloodshed and swords. And death.

The gates of Winterfell groaned open, a shadow yawning into the night, and Cregan felt the cold settle through him in a way that wasn’t simply the midnight air. Beneath his calm, the rage lay coiled, ancient and fierce, thrumming with the need to strike. He could feel it stirring, a force under his skin that he’d kept at bay for too long.

Tonight, the reckoning had come, and his enemy came as he’d least expected: alone, at the gates, a twisted mockery of honour that demanded restraint when every instinct demanded blood. His grip on Ice was steady, yet his mind roiled, fixed only on Sylas—the man who had touched what was his, hurt what was his, and now dared to stand in the shadow of Winterfell, the home Cregan had vowed to protect, alone and smirking in the night.

“So,” Sylas called out, his voice echoing mockingly across the courtyard. “The wolf king. Winter itself.”

No allies, no horses, no men. Just one man and the scent of fresh blood dripping from the carcass he’d brought like some cruel gift. The insult seethed in Cregan’s mind. It was more than a challenge; it was a mockery, a claim that Sylas the Grim feared no man, not even the King of the North.

Cregan’s expression remained stony, but his eyes narrowed, catching every sneer and glint of derision. Sylas was baiting him, testing for cracks in his stoicism. But a wolf doesn’t bare its teeth to bark; it saves them for the kill.

“You’ve brought breakfast?” Cregan asked, his voice sharp, restrained. His gaze flicked to the mangled reindeer, its blood staining Sylas’s shoulder and leaving a dark trail in the snow. “Thought you came with more ambitious intentions than a mere dead hart.”

Sylas’s grin widened, yellow teeth bared in something almost akin to amusement. “A civil gift, my king. I don’t need an army. Just a seat by the fire, and the wolf to see to it.”

Cregan crossed his arms. “My hearth is for allies and friends,” he said with an edge to his words. “My guest’s seat isn’t set aside for those threatening the Lady of Winterfell.”

Sylas laughed, the sound coarse and feral, resonating with the ancient and untamed. He glanced over the quiet battlements, then back to Cregan, as if taking in the walls that had withstood centuries.

“Aye, your pretty princess. Talked you up, she did. She seemed sure you were no ordinary man.” Sylas shook his head in mock disappointment. “I expected a king, maybe even a monster. And here you are, just a boy, wrapped in fur.”

A ferocity flickered in Cregan’s eyes, but his voice was calm, tempered. “And you came here alone, claiming a guest’s right?” His lips curved slightly, coldly. “Bold, for a man who sought to break the North.”

“Bold?” Sylas echoed, a dark gleam in his eyes as he stepped closer. “More like knowing what I want. I want the North, boy. And then more...”

He let his words hang, his eyes glinting with unspoken challenge.

The blood in Cregan’s veins pulsed his hand itching for Ice’s hilt. But he held still. He came alone, Cregan reminded himself. Honour bound him to the rules of hospitality, however, twisted they felt tonight.

“Well,” Cregan replied coolly, though the anger simmered like a fire under his words. “You've come bearing meat and hollow promises, but if it’s fire you seek, you’ll find it. As for the rest...” His lips curled in a threat. “When the last bone on that deer has been picked clean, I’ll feed you to my direwolves—meat and all.”

The wildling smirked, shifting the dead weight on his shoulder with a shrug. He took a step forward, the weight of his insolence heavier than any army.

“Good. I’ll take that fire.”

Cregan watched Sylas with thinly veiled disgust, his jaw tense as the wildling devoured his meal like a starved animal. Sylas tore the meat with his bare hands, juices dripping down his fingers and settling in his beard, where bits of bread and meat clung, smeared carelessly as he bit into the next piece. Each tear, each wet, ripping sound only served to deepen Cregan's revulsion.

This was the man who’d claimed he wanted to take his wife, the one who would lord over his people and his legacy? The wildling seemed a filthy joke of a threat, and yet, here he was.

As if summoned by some inner protest to this vulgar display, the oak door whined open, and Claere entered. She was freshly bathed, her silver hair gleaming in crowning braids, her dragon-riding leathers perfectly pressed—a deliberate contrast to the wildling seated like a beast across from Cregan.

He stiffened, irritation rising as he caught sight of her. It was mere hours past the hour of the wolf, she waltzed in like it was the first light of the morn. He had to make sure her violet eyes held consciousness, that this was not her on another one of her sleep-walking rituals.

He’d told so many to keep her away if she woke, to make excuses or detours, anything to spare her from this savage again. Yet here she was, gliding in as if she were the queen he knew her to be, composed and unnervingly calm. She stepped forward, her gaze briefly assessing Sylas before she met Cregan’s eyes.

She bent down and kissed him—a light press of her lips on his, murmuring, "Good morrow, husband."

That kiss arrested him, a public display she rarely indulged in. Usually, it was he who initiated, who sought the reassurance of her touch. Now, she was sending a message—to him, to Sylas.

Cregan's gaze darkened as Claere settled beside him, her calm demeanor a direct contrast to the storm brewing within him.

“Claere, love,” he murmured lowly, leaning toward her, his voice tight with a warning. “This is no place—”

She cut him off with a light smile, reaching over. “The bread, please? I’m famished from last night.”

The casualness of it jarred him, yet he passed her a slice with reluctant, guarded hands. She spread it with honey, added a thin layer of cheese, and bit into it. Her movements were practiced, graceful—the kind of elegance that felt all the more pointed in the presence of the feral man across from them.

A stillness fell over the room as Claere’s gaze lifted, settling unflinchingly on Sylas. His smirk froze, and for a moment, he seemed to falter, something almost indiscernible slipping behind his eyes as he took her in. The hungry glint in his stare intensified, though his smirk started to die under her silent, unwavering regard. She merely took another bite of bread, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she chewed, deliberate as it was unbothered.

“Lord Sylas,” she spoke at last, her voice smooth, lilting with a quiet steel. She wiped the edge of her mouth with a thumb. “Come to draw first blood?”

Sylas’s grin returned, wider this time but edged with something darker. “I’d draw the dress off you if I could, little queen.”

Cregan's hand slammed against the table, plates clattering, as his eyes hardened. His voice came in a low, fierce growl. “Filthy cunt—”

Claere’s soft laugh, muffled behind her hand, slipped into the silence. She let it settle before dropping her hand, her expression calm.

“Forgive him, dearest,” she said lightly, glancing at Cregan with a wry sparkle in her eye. “We mustn’t expect manners from a rabid dog who strays beyond his territory.”

Sylas’s gaze sharpened. “Misplaced loyalty.” His eyes flicked to Cregan, then back to her, almost mockingly. “I would be a kinder lord. I never thought I’d see such a shiny thing descend so low... to a Stark.”

Claere’s stare never wavered, her lips curving faintly again, but the edge in her voice was unmistakable. “Descend?” She tilted her head, the movement controlled, slow. “From where I stand, the only descent I see is yours, Sylas. After all, it’s my husband’s home in which you sit. Like a vermin, starved for scraps.”

Sylas's smirk dimmed, his eyes flashing with irritation before he forced a grin that showed far too many teeth. He leaned back, folding his arms.

“Funny words from behind his shield,” he said.

At that, Cregan's hand jolted toward Ice, but Claere placed her own hand over his, a patient, restrictive touch. She met Sylas’s stare, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper, yet it was unmistakable in its authority.

“Then try your hand, Lord Sylas,” she replied. “But remember this: before you reach for the Iron throne, you’ll need to survive me.”

Sylas laughed, though the gleam in his eye was feral and frustrated. He tore into another bite of his food, his gaze burning into them both. Still, Cregan could feel the shift in the room, the silent power Claere held even as she sat there, composed, calm as she drew her husband’s hand up to her lips in an unexpected, calculated kiss on his knuckles.

And at that, Sylas fell into a strained silence.

The old wildling spat a chunk of bone to the ground, licking the grease from his fingers with a careless smirk. He leaned forward, eyes flickering between Claere and Cregan, a sly gleam in them.

“Didn’t come here just to fill my belly, boy,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “I came with a deal.”

Cregan’s grip tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles pale against the wood.

Cregan’s hand gripped the arm of his chair, his knuckles whitening. “Don't waste your breath. Your deal holds no interest for me,” he replied harshly.

“You might be.” Sylas grinned, something feral in his smile as he leaned back, chewing on the edge of a grin. “See, I'll give you what you want most—your North, all of it, untouched and free. No raiders. No bloodshed. It's yours, I'll ride on South. The price?”

His gaze slid to Claere, his expression raw with crude intent. “Her.”

The weight of his words settled heavily. Cregan’s face hardened, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his longsword as he met Sylas’s gaze with unyielding fury. “You think I’d trade my wife for your empty oath?” His voice was cold, a quiet danger laced within each syllable. “You think that’s all I want for her? A future of enslavement and shackles?”

Sylas’s smile only widened, his gaze flicking back to Claere. “Peace, on a plate. A truce,” he went on, voice almost mocking. “For the little queen.”

Beside him, Claere sat perfectly still, her calm presence masking the tension rippling through her. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Sylas, collected, even as his intentions became glaringly clear.

“There will be no trade,” Cregan said with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She is mine, and neither your threats nor your offers will change that.”

Sylas tilted his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “Pathetic,” he murmured, rising to his feet, and towering over them both. “If she doesn’t come with me, I’ll take your home, every inch of it. And when I do,” he said, leaning close enough for Cregan to catch the bitter edge of his breath, “I’ll take your head too.”

“Then I suggest you start taking your aim,” Cregan rose to his feet, stepping close enough that Sylas could feel the threat radiating off him like heat. “Because you’ll have to kill me to take her. And I don't die easy.”

A dangerous smile played at the corner of Sylas’s mouth. He glanced down at Claere one last time, eyes brimming with twisted satisfaction.

“So be it,” he sighed. “I'll kill you first.”

Sylas's grin twisted as he reached down to the table, plucking a sharp bone shard from the remains of the deer meat. With a snap of movement, he lunged, aiming for Cregan’s shoulder.

Cregan’s reflexes were as quick as they were honed, sensing the threat before it even surfaced. He sidestepped the wildling’s strike, his hand latching onto Sylas’s wrist in an iron grip. With a twist, he forced Sylas’s arm down, the bone shard falling to the floor as Sylas struggled against his hold, sneering in frustration.

“Not before the lady,” Cregan’s voice was a low, lethal rumble, his hand shifting to Sylas’s neck. He tightened his grip, enough to make the wildling’s breathing hitch, and leaned close.

Claere simply scooted her chair away from them, taking a short sip of her water.

Cregan’s grip only tightened, his face a mask of simmering rage. “You’ve already overstayed your welcome,” he growled, voice low, deadly. “You want a fight? I won’t sully my ancestors’ hall for the likes of you. We’ll finish this outside.”

Sylas’s eyes gleamed, his smirk twisting into something feral. “Good.”

Without another word, Cregan released him, shoving Sylas back a step. The wildling stumbled, then righted himself, his grin still plastered across his face as he spat a dark glob onto the floor between them. Cregan watched him, gaze cold and unmoved.

“Hope you’re ready to bleed, wolf,” Sylas sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the room heavy with anticipation.

Dawn barely crept over the horizon, casting a grey, ghostly pallor across the courtyard. Cregan stood, his breath misting in icy clouds, muscles taut as he faced Sylas before the towering gates of Winterfell. The wildling was a solid wall of muscle, twisting a brutal-looking axe in his hands, its edge darkened by countless kills. A ring of soldiers circled the two men, their eyes shifting between them with tense anticipation, breaths sharp in the biting cold.

Sylas grinned, a dark gleam in his eye as he rolled his shoulders back, his size and coiled power making him look like a beast unfurling for a strike.

“You're smaller than she made you sound. And here I thought you'd have some big fangs.”

Cregan’s gaze remained steady, unfazed. “I’ve faced wilder beasts than you in these woods.”

Sylas barked a laugh, lifting his axe as he advanced. “All but me.”

The first swing came roaring and fast, almost catching Cregan off guard. He parried with Ice, though the impact sent a jarring vibration through his arms. Sylas was quick and ruthless, and as they traded blows, he drove Cregan back with brute force, step by step, the ground slick beneath them.

Clang. Thud.

Each blow echoed across the silent courtyard.

Their eyes met briefly as Cregan steadied himself, bracing against Sylas’s next assault. Sylas sneered, breathing hard, the wild gleam never leaving his gaze. “Lady Stark spoke of you like you were a god,” he taunted, swinging his axe again. “But it seems she’s only good at telling pretty tales.”

Cregan twisted his blade up to parry, gritting his teeth as the clash of steel echoed. "You talk too much,” he growled, landing a swift kick to Sylas’s chest.

Sylas staggered back a step, laughing. “Soon she'll be telling those tales to our sons by your fire, wolf."

Cregan’s grip tightened around the hilt of Ice, his knuckles white as he steadied himself, but Sylas was relentless. With a brutal shove, Sylas sent him sprawling again, and the ground came up to meet Cregan in a hard, unforgiving blow. He gasped, feeling the sting of steel biting into his arm as Ice slipped free, the blood seeping quickly into the frost-bitten earth beneath him. The soldiers around him shifted, some whispering, others simply watching as their lord was brought to his knees.

Sylas circled him like a wolf sizing up wounded prey, the twisted grin on his face stretching as he tilted his head to the gathering crowd.

“So this is the wolf of Winterfell? Your king?” he sneered, his voice a mocking growl. “Brought low by a wildling. Tell me, Stark—where’s my little queen?”

Cregan staggered to his feet, pain radiating up his arm, vision blurring as he forced himself to keep his footing. Sylas’s eyes glinted with malice, revelling in every faltering step, every gasp of breath Cregan couldn’t quite catch.

“You’d think the witch would have the decency to show,” Sylas taunted, his voice growing louder, pitched to the soldiers listening in. “Or has she slunk away, letting you bleed for her wrongs?”

Cregan braced himself as Sylas closed in, teeth gritted against the pain, his stance unyielding. But Sylas’s taunts sank on him, gnawing at his focus, his strength ebbing as Sylas struck him hard across the chest. The air was forced from his lungs as he dropped to a knee, every nerve searing with the agony of his wounds.

Sylas grinned down at him, his voice a sneering whisper. “Look at you. A beaten mutt. Unfit to rule.” He leaned closer, voice dripping with venom, “Where is she, huh?”

His words went ignored. With one last surge of strength, Cregan forced himself upright, eyes locking onto Sylas, rage and defiance blazing. He was battered, barely able to stand, but he’d face him to the last breath if it came to that. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives, his father had said to him once.

Let the lone wolf die. Let him die.

“She burns like the cold,” Cregan said in a painful breath.

The bedchamber flickered with dim firelight, casting shadows over the map sprawled between them. Claere and Cregan stood side by side, alone and cloaked in silence, their eyes fixed on Winterfell’s drawn walls and the ragged paths marking where Sylas’s forces would come. They needed no counsel tonight; only themselves.

Claere's face was unreadable, her gaze shadowed, and Cregan felt the weight of something beyond hesitation. He wanted to pull her close, to let his warmth dispel that cold distance, but he held back, tracing his fingers over the edges of the map instead.

“Sylas will move fast,” he murmured, his tone low and matter-of-fact, though his eyes drifted toward her face. “If he pushes hard enough, he’ll think he can break us here.” His finger tapped the curve just south of Winterfell. “He’ll press his men until they’re inside the keep—close enough to choke us in our own walls.”

Claere’s eyes didn’t waver, her expression carved in something colder than he’d ever seen. Yet, beneath it, he sensed a dread she kept buried. For a moment, he thought she might ask for a different way, to use a slower plan, anything to avoid the fire and fury he saw in his own mind.

But instead, her voice came, soft and impassive. “If he’s brought them all here… then Luna can burn them out. It will turn the tide.” Her fingers brushed along the edge of the map, pausing over the paths the wildlings would take, but her gaze held his. “I don’t see any other way.”

Her solemn words struck him harder than the battles they’d fought. She’d chosen this herself. Reaching across the map, he laid his hand over hers, feeling the coolness of her skin and the fire behind her eyes. He tightened his grip, his voice coming in a quiet murmur.

“Luna’s flames will stop them before they ever reach the walls.” His grip on her hand grew, as if by force alone he could keep the determination he saw in her from wavering. “I’ll take Sylas myself when he comes through. When he sees the fires, he’ll know what’s waiting for him.”

Claere looked back down at the map, though her hand remained within his. Even a blind man could've seen that strength in her, unwavering, yet something in her silence twisted his own resolve.

“You don’t have to do this, love.” His voice softened, the words almost breaking the silence like a plea. “You owe them nothing—not after what they’ve demanded of you.”

She stilled, her fingers brushing a line on the map that led from Winterfell to the wilds beyond. Her violet gaze lifted, meeting his, and her voice came faint but sharp as a dagger.

“I brought him here, Cregan. If Winterfell burns, it’ll be by my hand, not his.”

He took in her words, feeling both pride and a chill he couldn’t shake. There was no stopping her once she’d spoken like that; he had learned this much. He released a slow breath, his hand still on hers, though his grip softened.

“They’ll protest,” he murmured, almost to himself, knowing the lords would sneer at her volatile dragonblood the minute they caught wind of the fire in her plans.

She smirked, a faint, bitter twist of her mouth. “Then let them protest. Their words have always come cheap in our halls.”

There was nothing left to say; they had both chosen.

His voice was a rough whisper. “And when Sylas comes to the gates, he’ll meet me there. Your fire will bring his men to ruin, and his death will be by my hand.”

Her expression softened then, something flickering in her eyes. She gave a slight nod, the unspoken words holding between them as surely as any vow.

“Then let it be us,” she said, her voice quiet but relentless, “and only us.”

Claere’s silhouette merged with the pale light of the oncoming sun, crouched upon Luna’s back. Her silver braid whipped in the frigid wind, streaking across her face as she peered down at the advancing figures below—Sylas’s wildling host, oblivious, like ants on a thread, skittering through the shadows toward Winterfell. Her heart clenched, not only with tension but with a sense of sickened resolve.

Claere took a steadying breath, reaching down to soothe Luna’s scales as the dragon rumbled beneath her, ready, eager, alive with a hunger for the command. This was what she was—she was a weapon of fire and wings.

“Dracarys, Luna,” she whispered, her voice firm, though her mind wavered. Fire, Luna.

Luna inhaled sharply, and the first jet of flame burst forth, tearing through the forest edge. The fire lit up the gloaming, a roar of blistering fury erupting from the dragon’s throat, tearing through trees and flesh alike and consuming everything in its path. The inferno roared so ferociously that Claere flinched, though she held firm, her gaze steeling even as her stomach twisted. Her thoughts churned as she took in the fire’s path below, eyes lingering on the wild devastation.

This wasn’t her—it was Luna, this was her dragon’s fury flowing from her through the fire. She could almost feel her resolve shake as the flames danced in her vision, searing images of charred trees and wildlings scrambling, scattering, disappearing. She repeated the words in her mind like a chant, Luna’s rage, not mine, though she knew even as she said it that it wasn’t entirely true.

Her breath shook as she leaned closer to Luna, coaxing her to move over the battalion attempting to retreat. The dragon’s energy surged as they neared. She stroked Luna’s side, voice soft but firm.

“Lykiri, Luna,” she soothed, her words almost trembling. “Dracarys.” Easy, Luna… fire.

Luna twisted mid-air, exhaling another wave of flame across the retreating soldiers below, sealing off their escape and turning the ground into a seething sea of embers. The dragon’s power coursed through her like a shiver, fierce and foreign, rattling her bones with its wildness.

The fire roared in her ears, and she looked down, on the scattered remains of Sylas’s army, their encroachment on her home, and her family. She watched as the smoke and flames lifted, wrapping Winterfell and Winter Town in a curtain of fiery defence. She took in the devastation below and fought the bile rising in her throat, her mind’s whisper growing weaker.

They came for Winterfell, for her people in Winter Town… they brought this upon themselves.

As the last embers died down, Claere closed her eyes, her voice barely above a murmur as she stared into the inferno, her gaze distant. “Sepār hae Daemon vestās. Lyks māzigon mērī isse perzys, gevie riña,” she whispered. Just as Daemon said. Peace comes only in flame, beautiful girl.

Luna’s fierce eyes glowed with residual heat, the dragon’s heart steadying beneath her. But Claere’s was anything but; her hands trembled as they left Luna’s scales, her mind, her heart now divided as they looked back over the ruins and toward Winterfell, her home now shrouded in the grim peace she had called forth.

Sylas barely registered the smoke rising from the treetops before Cregan advanced with a limp, his eyes dark with a calm that promised violence. The distant shadows of smoke from the burning woods curled into the sky, and for the first time, the feral wildling's bravado faltered.

"Looks like your men weren’t prepared for dragonfire, Sylas," Cregan remarked, his voice a low rumble that echoed across the men around him.

Sylas bared his teeth in a sneer, a wild, desperate glint in his eye. “I don’t need an army to take what I came for, Stark,” he spat. Yet his voice held a shake that betrayed him.

Cregan’s smirk was cruel, almost feral. Every step forward held the essence of Winterfell’s legacy, its unbreakable fortitude, a promise to the blood spilt for his land and kin. He swung his sword with controlled precision, matching his enemy's wildness, each clash of their blades filling the cold air with a raw, metallic shriek. Sparks shot out, tracing wild patterns against the snow as Sylas staggered, his strength now fraying against the brutal tempo of Cregan’s attack.

Sylas’s grip tightened, his movements turning frantic. Blood streaked down his hands, his breaths ragged as he swung, his attacks growing wild and uncoordinated. But he kept a cruel, bloodstained smile on his lips as he glanced toward the trees.

“You think this is over, Stark?” he snarled, forcing the words through grit teeth. “I’ve men coming to gut you like a fish. Soon enough, you’ll be choking on your own blood.”

Cregan’s expression hardened, a cold amusement flashing in his gaze. He nodded toward the columns of smoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“What men?”

Sylas’s sneer faded, his face going slack as realization washed over him. The inferno in the woods, swallowing his last line of defence. His final hope, his reinforcements—gone, turned to ash and embers under dragon’s breath.

Sylas’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, a denial trembling on his lips. “Dragon cunt.”

But there was no more room for mercy here.

Cregan allowed Sylas one desperate reach for his blade, granting him the illusion of a fighting chance. The wildling lunged, his hands flying to the hilt at his hip, but Cregan shifted in one swift motion, letting his own sword slip to his left hand, then right again, like an executioner judging his swing.

The motion left Sylas exposed, caught off balance, and Cregan moved like the crack of thunder, his strikes hitting with unrelenting force. Sylas staggered, his pride and strength reduced to shallow, desperate parries.

Breathless, Sylas raised his sword once more, a final snarl erupting from his throat as he swung—but it was too slow, too obvious. Cregan ducked under the wildling’s strike, pivoting as he brought his blade up in one final, swift arc, the blade sinking deep into the base of Sylas’s neck. Sylas’s eyes widened as he gasped, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth, his strength bleeding out into the frozen ground.

Cregan held the sword steady, watching the fading light in the wildling’s gaze. When Sylas’s body slumped to the ground, he released his grip.

His gaze lifted to the familiar, haunting shadow of Luna as she swept above Winterfell’s walls—a silent harbinger of peace, however fleeting it might be.

Behind him, voices rose in triumphant cheers, the soldiers shouting to the grey, wintry sky.

"The King in the North!"

"The Winter's Queen!"

The chants rang across the battlefield, a victory anthem echoing off the stone walls and into the depths of Winterfell, where blood had been shed to ensure its unyielding hold on the North. And though the men cheered, Cregan’s gaze remained faraway, fixed on the horizon, where the smoke still curled—a reminder of the price paid for peace.

"The King in the North!"

"The Winter's Queen!"

As the last echoes of victory faded over the frozen fields, Claere soared above the remnants of battle, Luna’s wings slicing through the northern winds, her shadow vast and ominous against the frosted earth below. She descended with the grace of a winter storm, Luna’s silver scales gleaming under the grey sky, and as they landed near the ragged camp of wildlings, the ground shuddered beneath the dragon’s weight.

The wildlings huddled together, the children clutching their mothers’ legs, the old men narrowing their eyes in defiance mixed with dread. Fear rippled through them, but Claere remained impassive, her gaze steady, unyielding—a reflection of Winterfell’s ancient walls.

Some among the Freefolk, their voices hardened with anger and grief, spat curses and slurs at her, calling her “witch” and “murderous southern cunt,” hatred simmering behind the fire-stoked fear in their eyes.

Claere absorbed the words, her face an unmoving mask.

A single thrumming, ear-splitting roar from Luna stilled the camp, silencing even the most defiant. The great dragon’s eyes glinted like molten gold, her breath thick and hot, and the Freefolk felt the implicit warning in every bone.

Lifting her chin, Claere addressed them, her voice cutting through the cold air, calm and regal.

“All who wish to remain in my land,” Claere proclaimed, her voice resonating like a royal decree, “shall find protection here, beyond the Wall. I shall see that a settlement is forged near the Wall’s garrisons, where you may rebuild your lives, under the laws and traditions of the North. Take this as my utmost mercy.”

Her gaze swept over them, cutting through the crowd like steel, lingering on the wearied lines of their faces and the guarded suspicion in their eyes. “But you are Freefolk still,” she continued, her voice unwavering, regal. “Those who choose to return beyond the Wall may go freely, unscathed, provided you keep the peace in return. Understand that this fate was never one I wished upon your people.”

An uneasy murmur ran through the crowd. Many looked to one another, mistrust mingling with a hesitant hope, and one bold voice called out from the throng, roughened and raw.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you even care to cross the Wall? Why bring all this ruin?”

Claere’s expression flickered with a shadow of something unreadable, the barest trace of sorrow or perhaps defiance, but her answer was a mystery as if whispered from deep within.

“There are things beyond the Wall that need no reason,” she said. “I came for what lies beyond choice, beyond blood and oaths. Some things demand to be answered. And it's best they remain that way for some time.”

As Claere’s words hung in the frosted air, a quiet ripple moved through the crowd, each face etched with its own choice. Slowly, some of the Freefolk began to turn, gathering what little they owned, their faces set toward the Wall. They were the ones who would return to the wild, to the life they had always known.

But many others—mothers with children clinging close, the elders with their exhausted eyes fixed upon her—stayed where they were, watching the figure of the dragon queen with something like reverence and fear.

Claere took them in, her gaze softening for a fleeting moment, an acknowledgement of what lay ahead for them, and for her. She gave a single, solemn nod, a gesture that was both promise and farewell, and it was enough.

She gave them no further explanation, only that faint, haunting smile that seemed to come from another world entirely. As she climbed back upon Luna’s back, the great dragon unfurled her wings, her shadow stretching over the encampment. A dragon and a queen united in strength, mystery, and resolve. With a powerful beat, Luna launched them into the sky, and Claere looked down upon the land, her silver hair streaming like her own banner.

Below, the Freefolk watched as the Winter’s Queen disappeared into the northern sky, a figure both terrifying and triumphant, half Targaryen fire and half Stark frost.

The last vision of her was etched in their memories—a queen of two bloods, the very image of winter’s heart and fire’s wrath. A ruler, a legend, her name destined to echo in both hearthside tales and whispered fears for generations to come.

I don't know, I feel like I let people down with this. sorry everyone. I really expected more from myself with this.

one more to go, we still have much more to see!

[ taglist: @pearldaisy , @thatkindofgurl , @theadharablack , @cherryheairt , @beingalive1 , @oxymakestheworldgoround , @tigolebittiez , @cosmosnkaz , @lv7867 , @piper570 , @danikasthings , @acsc8 , @justdazzling ] -> thank you for your endless support everyone!

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potatoplace · 3 months ago

Text

You Can Have It - Chapter 2

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 1 | chapter 3 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, mentions of sex toys, I really don't think there's anything else?

Words: ~7.8k

Author's Note: it's here! I struggled a lot to get writing with this chapter, I think it's because there's so much I want to happen! Things should start moving a bit quicker after this chapter, were done with most of the OC introductions (just lil friendos for reader to have outside of the inner circle~). Hopefully in the next chapter reader will meet Rhys and Feyre :)

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You had been reading for a couple of hours before Mor returned to the inn, busting into your room as soon as you opened the door at her frantic knocks.

“I brought dinner!” Mor squealed as she set a bag onto the table in the middle of the room. “I went to Sevenda’s and got my favorite of hers, it’s this delicious pesto chicken pasta with broccoli in it, I think you’ll love it! We just have to make sure to take the bowls back tomorrow, Sevenda made me promise and I’ve forgotten a couple of times already,” Mor said sheepishly, a grin on her face. She sat down and began pulling out the takeaway dishes along with napkins and utensils.

You sat down in the other chair, gladly taking your share of the heavenly smelling food and digging in. Mor followed suit, and the two of you ate happily in a comfortable silence for a moment.

“So, were you able to set up a meeting with Auric already?” You asked Mor before taking another bite- it tasted even more amazing than it smelled.

Mor nodded. “Yes, he agreed to tomorrow at two o’clock at this cute little café just a couple of blocks down from here. He mainly wants to know your plans for the land before finalizing the sale. Auric’s family has owned the land since Velaris was founded, and since he doesn’t have any children he just wants to make sure it’s a business with good intentions, I think.”

“That makes sense, I would probably do the same in his position.”

“Agreed. I think he’ll find a cozy bakery to be a perfect fit, he ran a custom paint and supply store once he took over, and I believe it was an apothecary before that.”

You smile softly at the knowledge that your bakery will be on land with such a long history, one that must have made so many people happy. “The apothecary part will be somewhat carried on with my bakery, I have a few different pastries with special herbs in them to give different effects to the person that eats it. I have one that was very popular in the Winter Court, it helps to boost fertility. We started having a greater amount of births around every major holiday, that’s when I would bake the most of them,” you gushed, always happy to talk about your baking.

“Really? Oh, that will be lovely! Since the war, everyone in Velaris has had their eyes turned to the future, and it seems almost everyone wants to have children nowadays. Once word gets around, you’d best be ready for constant business for that pastry alone.” Mor’s words instilled confidence in you, something that you needed every so often to be sure you’re making the right choices.

A half hour later, Mor stood from her chair and began packing up the dishes. Before she left, she pulled a small metal card from her pocket and handed it to you. “This is your bank card, you’ll need it to make any purchases within Velaris. Kallias and Viviane had me set up an account for you and deposit your farewell bonus. Ten thousand for every year you worked for them, a total of 700,000 gold marks.”

“700,000?!” You asked in a frantic tone. That was to much- far, far too much. “That- they must have made a mistake. That’s a ridiculous amount of gold!”

Mor only smiled at you as she answered, “No, they were very specific about the amount. They said if you were panicking to tell you that five thousand every year was for your grandmother, and five thousand was for you. And to tell you that there is no way to convince them to take any of it back, so don’t attempt.” Mor’s smile turned to a grin when you stayed silent, still processing the immense wealth that you now possess. “I’ll be here a bit before two tomorrow to show you to the café for your meeting,” she said as she left your room, bag full of empty dishes in her hand.

“Thank you, Mor. For everything you’ve done today.”

One more bright, sunshine filled smile. “You’re welcome, Y/N. It’s no problem, you’ve been lovely to get to know.”

You return her smile, and shut the door when she is out of sight. Standing alone in your hotel room, you suddenly feel the weight of your day crashing into your shoulders. You set your new bank card on the table, the weight of its wealth too heavy at the moment.

You made your way into the bathroom, carefully removing your dress from your body to not snag your wings on the fabric. Then you set to drawing the bath- luckily, it was fully enchanted with plumbing, allowing for hot water to fill the tub.

It was a bit smaller than you were used to, not quite the right size to fit a winged body, but it would do just fine until you could have your own custom tub made for your apartment.

As soon as the tub was filled, you sank into the warm water, keeping your wings out of the water for tonight- too much of a hassle to dry with how tired you are already.

You let the steam relax you, sinking into a soft, relaxed state of mind. It drifted to your grandmother- she had died today, but you weren’t devastated. She had been in pain the past thirty six years, caused by the curse Amarantha had put upon her. Your grandmother had accidentally served burned pastries to the revel, one making its way to Amarantha herself. As Nanna’s punishment, the evil queen had cursed her blood to burn away slowly until she eventually passed.

But she was in peace now- able to move on to the next life, hopefully one that’s happier, less filled with psychotic fae.

And here- here, you could believe that. You’d seen so many different kinds of fae today, more than you’d seen at once Under the Mountain. Every one of them got along, there was only minor haggling and bickering to disrupt the peace. Besides that, everyone had sounded happy, unburdened.

It was nice.

The Winter Court, even six years after Amarantha’s fall, was still struggling to find the same freeness that this city radiated.

Your grandmother would have loved it here, the two Palaces dedicated to food stuffs alone might have convinced her to move here.

You would love it twice as much, just for her. She had always wanted you to live a full life, one of joy, hopefully with an alpha and a family of any size. She had been an omega as well, understanding that need, that overwhelming desire to have a family, an alpha that loves you.

When you presented, your mother and father had already passed, taken by a brutal pneumonia that had overtaken most of your village. Your grandmother had been the only family left to teach you, and she had done all she could to prepare you for your secondary sex and all that came with it.

You had yet to take an alpha, ever. During your few heats before being trapped Under the Mountain, you had taken a beta as your lover, trusting him enough to help you through them.

And Under the Mountain… Well, you were lucky enough to have been relegated to the kitchens at all times besides during your grandmother’s punishment. No alphas had been allowed to work at kitchen staff, so you were kept relatively hidden during your heats, though they had been less frequent due to the stress, possibly even from the magic sucked from your body.

Now, though, they had returned in full force, three months apart and stronger than ever. Viviane had been kind enough to show you to the small shop dedicated to sex toys in the square of the capital city, some of them designed to mimic a knot.

The toy you had gotten that day had seen you through your last six years of heats, along with a special blend of herbs your grandmother had created that lessened the symptoms to a close to manageable level.

Now, though, in a new city? Maybe you could find an alpha for yourself, as well as follow your lifelong dream. You let yourself drift off and think about what your alpha might be like as you washed your body.

As soon as you were clean, you got out and dried yourself off. You wrapped yourself in the towel and padded into the bedroom once more, finally ready to unpack your things.

It went quickly enough, you hung up your dresses and put away your romance novels and cookbooks. One of them was your grandmother’s entire catalog of recipes, all of her tricks to making any recipe a bit easier. It was your most prized possession, your own catalog a close second.

Your bags were empty now, and you placed them at the bottom of the wardrobe, along with your pair of extra boots.

All alone. A new city.

You crawled into your bed after putting on your favorite nightgown, long sleeved and reaching your calves in a blue so light it’s nearly white, and a scooped back allowing for your wings to remind untouched by fabric.

The sheets on the bed are soft, and you bury your face in them for a moment, reveling in the feeling of them on your skin. A gentle huff leaves your mouth, and you turn your head to look out the window, to where it’s snowing.

You’ll be sad when the snow is gone, but you can’t deny that you’re excited to see the other seasons come and go as they do outside of Winter.

And your bakery- you wonder how that will change throughout the seasons. Different pastries, outdoor seating, seasonal themes- would you be able to make it snow inside during winter?

You drifted off to different imaginings of your new business, new home as well as you’ll be building an apartment above the bakery itself.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You awoke the next morning to the winter sun shining into your eyes. You stretched for a moment, then got up from your bed, and walked over to the doors leading to your balcony and stepped through them. Outside, the snow had stopped falling overnight, and now looked to be around five inches deep.

That wasn’t bad, not bad at all. This time in Winter there would be nights with a foot or more of snowfall. It looked to be about ten in the morning- that would be more than enough time to go and grab some breakfast, and maybe shop around a little bit.

You quickly pulled on a pair of thick grey wool tights after removing your nightgown, then slipped into your thickest winter dress, making sure to get all of the buttons into their holes to make the fabric wrap snugly around the base of your wings to protect the skin beneath. The dress, made of thick wool with a silvery fabric layered over the top, was one that you didn’t wear too often, as you didn’t tend to venture outside of the High Lord’s palace often when it snowed heavily. Your wings, even after living in Winter for the first twenty five years of your life and the past six, were still sensitive to the cold at times, so you preferred to stay inside during most of the heavy snow season.

This dress keeps the rest of you warm and cozy, and you want breakfast, so you’ll risk your wings feeling a bit chilled.

You pulled on your boots that nearly reach your knees and lace them up quickly, your stomach’s loud growl making your fingers move faster. Then you throw on your scarf, hat, and mittens, taking care to slip your bank card into your right mitten for safe keeping, and then you’re out the door, locking int behind you and bounding down the stairs.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Druana said from behind the counter as you breezed past her, making your way to the door.

“Good morning, Druana!” You replied enthusiastically. “I’ll see you in a little bit, I’m going to explore the city on my own for a while.”

“Have a good time, and be careful in the snow. It gets slippery on the stones beneath quickly,” Druana warned as you opened the door and slipped through it.

“Thank you!”

And then you were in the crisp winter breeze, breathing in deep lungfuls of the clean, snow scented air. You’ll definitely miss this once the season slips into spring, but you’re here now.

And it’s beautiful.

The snow has iced the roofs of the buildings around you perfectly, and everything looks like a little gingerbread town. You made your way through the streets slowly, following the delicious scent of cinnamon, sugar, and coffee that you picked up.

Soon, you were at an adorable café, decorated with soft pastels inside and out, primarily pink. And you could tell that inside there was a cinnamon coffee cake and coffee to go with it, one of your favorite breakfasts- just perfect for your first official morning in a new home.

You entered the building, spotting a slim high fae beta at the counter in the back.

“Good morning,” she chirped cheerily at you as you made your way to the counter.

“Good morning,” you responded, already looking over the display of baked goods she had out. “I’ll have a slice of that cinnamon coffee cake,” you said, pointing to the perfect looking coffee cake. You then looked behind the other fae, taking in the coffee brewing equipment. “And a coffee with a bit of cream in it, please.”

“Of course,” the other fae said, grabbing your order in a couple of minutes, sliding a plate and a mug over to you after you’d slid your mittens off. “That will be two gold marks,” she said, and you handed over your bank card, hoping that you weren’t doing this wrong. The fae opened up a ledger, and pressed your card against it. “Alright, here’s that back. You can take a seat wherever you like, and just bring the dishes up to the counter when you’re done,” she said softly as she handed you the card back.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile. You grabbed your items, and sat at the table right in front of a window looking out onto the street you’d just come in from.

Both the cake and the coffee were delicious, warming your insides nicely as you sat and watched people go by, the city slowly waking as you ate, a few customers walking in as you did. You returned the dishes to the front, smiling at the pretty fae running the café. “Thank you, it was absolutely delightful! Would you happen to know the way to a bookstore near here?” You asked a bit shyly.

“New to town?” The fae asked, and you nodded your head in confirmation. “If you go to the right and head down five buildings, take a left and then in two more buildings you’ll be at Gina’s bookstore- she’s very nice, and loves meeting new people.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll probably see you again soon. My name is Y/N, by the way,” you said.

“My name is Jayla, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. And it’s no problem, I’ll see you again!” The fae said cheerily.

You followed her instructions well, and within a few minutes you were shaking the snow off of your boots and dress and walking into the cozy bookstore. There were rows and rows of shelves extending into the back of the store greeting you, and when you looked to your left there was a counter with a green skinned fae behind it. Further down from the counter, there was a small sitting area in front of a fireplace- a roaring fire already blazing inside.

“Welcome in!” The fae said with a warm smile as she looked to you, standing just inside the now closed door. “My name is Gina, I’m happy to help you find anything, or you can browse around for a bit.”

You moved closer to her, taking off your mittens and tucking your bank card into the collar of your dress as you did so. “My name is Y/N, I was wondering if you had any romance novels?” You asked, feeling a bit shy at the request, especially once the alpha’s scent washed over you.

She probably thinks I’m some silly romance obsessed omega now, you thought to yourself.

“Ah! Another romance lover! Right this way, I’ll show you some of my favorites too, if that’s alright,” Gina exclaimed as she quickly made her way over to you and grabbed your hand, leading you through the rows of books to the middle of the store.

“Right in the heart of the store is where I keep my favorite genre,” Gina said as she pulled a book from one of the shelves. “And this is my favorite romance series! It’s called Healer of Time, it’s about this omega high fae from the Dawn Court. She has these really strong healing powers, and she somehow ends up traveling back and forth between current time and three hundred years ago, and has to choose between two fantastically hot alphas, one from each timeline. It’s just perfect, and I’ve helped make the series all the rage in Velaris!”

She handed the book over to you, which you eagerly accepted. That sounded like the best blend of romance and adventure to you. “How many books are there on the series?”

“Nine so far, but the author puts out a new one every year or so, thank the Mother!” Gina responded, pointing out the other eight books for you.

“Wow, that’s a pretty good turn around. I honestly think I’ll get the first four today! It sounds like a really good read.”

Gina grins widely at you, and her excitement is too contagious to not smile back. “I’ll take these up to the front for you, but if you have any more questions feel free to come up and ask me!” Gina took the book from your hand and pulled three more off of the shelf.

“Do you happen to have any cookbooks?”

“Of course, they’re near the front, off to the right in the row second closest to the wall Y/N.”

You make your way over to the area, and quickly spot the section dedicated to cooking and baking. One catches your eye, titled Night Court Favorites, with a beautiful illustration of a moonlit picnic on the front. On the back, it promised the recipes for the past three millennium of Night Court nobility’s favorite dishes. Probably as good a place as any to start your full cooking journey, now that most of your meals would not be prepared by the other kitchen staff of the High Lord’s palace.

You flipped through it quickly, eyes snagging on a recipe for Night Court traditional curry- it sounded absolutely delicious.

With the cookbook in hand, you ventured slowly back to the front counter where Gina stood talking to another fae excitedly, your books waiting on the counter for you.

“Ah, Nesta, I’d like you to meet Y/N, she’s the customer I was telling you about!”

The other fae turned around, her movements sending a small amount of her scent- a winter bonfire and very alpha- and you were struck by her beauty. Sharp angles and liquid steel eyes, and lovely golden brown hair twisted into an elegant braid crown on top of her head.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N, are you new in town?” The high fae’s voice was husky and holding a certain power to it, absolutely lovely.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nesta. And yes, I just moved to the city yesterday.”

“Well I hope you find the city to your liking. Gina was just telling me that you like romance novels?” You nodded your head. “I host a little book club here every second and fourth Wednesday at four in the afternoon, and we mainly read romance novels. I always like to extend an invitation to those Gina thinks would enjoy it,” Nesta offered.

“Oh…” you thought about it for a moment. “I’m in the process of getting my business up and running right now, but maybe in a couple of months when things have calmed down?” You asked hopefully.

Nesta nodded her head in agreement. “That’s fine, just talk to Gina when you’re ready to join, she’ll let you know what book we’re reading. Well, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to be going now now,” Nesta said, making her way over to the door.

“It was lovely meeting you as well, Nesta. I’ll see you in a couple of months.”

The alpha was out the door after waving goodbye, and you were left alone in the bookstore once more with Gina.

“Did you find everything you wanted, dear?” She asked, taking the cookbook from your hands.

“Yes, I did. Though I’m sure I’ll be back in a week for some extra reading, if I end up having the time.”

“You mentioned a business? What kind?”

Your books were bagged now, and you handed over your bank card after pulling it from your collar. “I’m going to be opening a bakery in the Rainbow, if all goes to plan.”

“Oh, that’s nice! We can always use more food stores, and bakeries especially! I’m a big fan of anything bread,” Gina said with a laugh, handing you back your bank card and sliding the book filled fabric bag over to you. “It came out to 11 gold marks and one silver mark, and if you absolutely hate the first book, I’ll let your return the rest and pick out something else, alright?”

You grin at her. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but it’s good to know! I’ll see you sometime soon, Gina. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing what you think of them! Walk safely, it can get slippery,” Gina warned as you stepped back into the snow and cold, door thunking shut behind you.

You followed your route back to the café you’d eaten at, simply names Jayla’s. You walking, taking the path that you think leads to the inn. You end up making a few extra turns, but you’re back in the warmth of the inn after you finally find the building. Druana is nowhere to be seen when you enter after kicking the snow off of your boots and dress, so you simply go up to your room.

Your bag lands on the table, and you immediately pulled out the cookbook, flicking through it again to find the curry recipe. You spy a notepad, quill, and ink pot which you grab and bring over to the table.

On the page, you write all of the ingredients you’ll need to make the curry- tonight, hopefully, if you can find everything you need in the two food centric Palaces. You’ll need chicken, a few different root vegetables, a good variety of spices, and coconut milk- you hoped that one of the various stalls you’d seen yesterday would have some prepared, you don’t quite feel like going through that hassle yet.

You check the small clock hanging on the wall, seeing that it’s only a quarter to noon still, that should be plenty of time to get the ingredients you need and be back here in time to meet Mor.

Next you look in the cupboards of the kitchenette, which hold a large frying pan, a pot with a lid, a cutting board, cooking utensils and small knife set. There’s also two sets of plates, bowls, cups and utensils. The frying pan and pot should work nice enough for the curry, there’s not much point to you buying your own cookware until your building is completed. And there’s a cold box, enchanted to keep dairy and meat fresh.

That would hopefully mean going to only one Palace today, or at least before the meeting. You let the ink of your list dry for a few more minutes, flipping open to the first page of your new book series, quickly reading the first chapter.

Just as you thought, it was going to be a good fit.

You folded your list in half once, then again, and tucked it into the collar of your dress alongside your bank card. You should probably get a purse of some sort soon. But that can wait.

You’re bounding down the stairs again in an instant, and Druana is back at her desk this time.

“Oh, I didn’t even hear you come in! I’ll see you again soon, Y/N.”

You smiled at her and said, “Yes, I should be back at or before 1:30, and Mor will be meeting me here, just so you know.”

“Thank you,” Druana replied with her own smile.

You were back in the winter air, sun shining down on you now. Your breath still made puffy clouds in the air, but you didn’t care. It’s winter, and it’s beautiful.

Slowly, you made your way across the nearest bridge that connected right to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, your current destination. Upon entering the more tightly packed area, you gravitated towards a large stall, covered in so many different vegetables and large glass jars, only a few still filled to the brim with spices. There was a tall, dark skinned high fae standing behind the stall.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a low voice, and you instantly pinned her as an alpha.

You pulled out your grocery list. “Yes, I needed the vegetables and spices on this list, if you happen to have them,” you said, handing it over to the female when she gestures for you to give it to her.

“I just so happen to have almost all of these spices, and the ones I don’t I can point you to another sweet fae who has them, as well as the coconut milk and rice you need. And I have all of the vegetables you need. Making the traditional curry?” She asked as she began gathering the vegetables for you.

“Yes, I’m new to the city and want to learn some of the common dishes here, and this sounded like a wonderful start.”

“Well, I’ll say that it’s one of my personal favorites, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. My name is Petra, by the way, it’s always nice to see new faces in town.”

You smile at her, so happy that so far you’ve only had positive experiences with the people of Velaris. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Now, would you like to buy small spice jars that you can bring back and refill, or just go with the amount you’ll need for the recipe?” Petra asked you, holding up a small glass bottle with a metal lid fitted to the top.

“I think I’ll buy the spice jars, please.”

She fills the three small bottles up quickly, putting them in a thin wooden container with a handle, with six slots perfectly fitting the spice jars.

“You can come back and have them filled up for a slight discount for any spice sellers in the two food oriented Palaces, but I’d prefer if you came back to my stall,” Petra said with a wink, placing the container into the tan fabric bag containing the vegetables. “That will be 7 gold marks, please.” You handed her your bank card, and she quickly passed it back after pressing it to her ledger. “Now, the other two spices and the coconut milk you need, you can find three stalls down on the right, and the male next to her has a good price on chicken, just to give a few suggestions,” Petra offered, pointing out the two fae she was speaking of.

“Thank you so much, I’ll be sure to come back when I need more vegetables,” you said before walking away, exchanging waves and warm smiles.

You made your way over to the other stalls, quickly buying the other two spices, coconut milk, and rice you need, as well as the chicken the recipe called for- one large chicken breast. You trekked back to the inn carefully, switching the bag between hands every so often.

“Grocery shopping, I see,” Druana greeted you as you breezed into the inn after kicking the snow off of your clothes.

“Yes, I thought it would be better than ordering in every night,” you chuckled as you made your way over to the stairs.

“Well, good luck with that. And don’t burn my inn down,” Druana added playfully as you began going up the flight of stairs.

“I’ll do my best!” You unlocked your room, immediately dropping the heavy bag next to the books you’d purchased earlier. Groceries sure are heavy when you have to lug them across town. No matter. You’ll get used to it soon enough, especially once you have to purchase for the bakery.

You put the chicken and coconut milk into the cold box, and the vegetables and spices onto the counter. Right after you had, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N? It’s me, Mor.”

You swung the door open, letting the bubbly blonde into your room. She was carrying a large yellow envelope under one arm, and decked in winter gear from head to toe, but still slightly shivering even in the warmth of the building. “Time to go?” You asked, still holding the door open.

“Yes, getting there a little early is wise with weather like this. Nothing quite like eating shit one to many times on your way to a meeting and ending up late,” Mor said, already moving back out of your bedroom door and into the hallway, and you followed her after making sure your bank card was still tucked safely in the collar of your shirt

The door snicked shut and you locked it quickly, following Mor down the stairs and outside once more. She led you through the streets cautiously, obviously afraid of falling down, but you made it to the café within ten minutes, and to your surprise it was Jayla’s café.

“Ah, welcome back Mor, Y/N,” Jayla said from behind the counter as she wiped it down with a cloth.

“Morrigan!” Exclaimed an older male’s voice, gravelly with age. “It’s wonderful to see you again, come, introduce me to your friend,” the elderly high fae said, beckoning the two of you closer to where he was seated at a table, three other chairs surrounding it.

“Auric, this is Y/N, the lovely young fae hoping to buy your property. Y/N, this is Auric, Velaris’s most experienced paint mixer, including magic imbued paints as well,” Mor said as the two of you sat in the unoccupied chairs.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Auric, I truly fell in love with your family’s property the moment I saw it,” you said right before Jayla came over to the three of you.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink?” She asked, and you noticed that Auric already had a mostly full cup of tea in front of him.

“I’ll take a tea, whatever you recommend please.”

“The same for me, please,” Mor said. “Thank you, Jayla.” Jayla nodded and walked away, going behind the counter to begin brewing your teas.

“So, you fell in love with the land? What did you like about it?” Auric asked you, eyes running over your face. It was then that you scented him- a male omega. It had been years since you’d met one yourself, before the mountain you believed.

“I loved the view looking towards the Sidra, you can see the mountains in the background as well as all of the other beautiful buildings in the city. The land itself is so lovely, it’s nice and flat, and I think it would look wonderful with a little extra landscaping, maybe a tree or two of that would be alright. And the location, on the outside edge of the Rainbow would be perfect for a bakery, close enough to a few residential areas, but also involved in the creativity that the area boasts,” you gushed, still picturing the view in your mind. Being able to bake and look out at such a beautiful river, beautiful city, truly, would be amazing.

Jayla returned, two cups of tea in hand that she placed in front of you and Mor. “A lovely raspberry tea for the both of you,” she said before walking back to the counter.

“A bakery, hmm?” Auric questioned, raising a brow at you as you took a sip of the tea- delicious. “Are enough sure you have the stamina to run it? It’s a hefty job.”

You nodded your head once, fully confident in your abilities. “Yes, I previously worked to bake for the entirety of the Hugh Lord of Winter’s residence, and over the course of… Well, being Under the Mountain, I was assistant to the head baker, my grandmother, for twenty years, and for thirty years after that I was head baker myself. I am confident that I can handle running a bakery on my own.”

The older fae’s eyes narrowed at your for a minute, before they crinkled as his lips spread into a smile. “I like you. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but it’s good to see you’re stronger for it. Now, what type of baked goods will you be selling?”

You breathed a small sigh of relief before answering. “Well, I do have a few favorite pastries of the Winter Court that I’ll have, as well as loaves breads and cakes. Plus I have a number of recipes made with medicinal herbs or berries that have health boosting benefits. My most popular one by far has been a fertility boosting pastry made with a berry native to the Winter Court.”

Auric hummed as he considered everything you had said. “And what will you name it?”

“I… What?”

“What will you name your bakery? Surely you know what you want your business to be called, Y/N.”

“Of course I do, Auric. It will be called Sparaiya Bakery, after my grandmother. She might have left this plane, but she will always be with me, especially when I bake.”

Auric clapped his hands together once. “Very well, then. I’d like to sell you my land, Y/N. I think you have a good amount of experience, you have a vision for your bakery, and you seem like a strong, loyal person. I believe my ancestors would be proud to have your business on their land,” the older omega said sincerely. “I’ve set the price at 100,000 gold marks, are you willing to pay that much?”

The thought of that much money alone being spent made your stomach churn, but you reminded yourself of the massive amount of money that Kallias and Viviane had given you, and that this land was worth every single mark you were going to spend on it. “Yes, that’s perfectly fine with me.”

“Perfect!” Mor pulled the envelope from between her arm and chest, pulling a few documents out and summoning a quill and a pot of ink. “The two of you can go ahead and sign here, and Y/N, you’ll just need to press your bank card to the top right corner after you’ve both signed.” The two of you do as she says, standing and shaking hands afterwards.

“Thank you so much, Auric, for entrusting your family’s land to me. I hope that if you come by once it’s finished, you will be proud.”

Auric regarded you warmly, squeezing your hand an extra time before letting go. “I’m sure that I will be, Y/N. Let me know when you’re opening, and I’ll be sure to stop by.” He grabbed his copy of the sale documents

“I’ll make sure to. Have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said as he walked out of the café, leaving you with Mor. “I’m so happy he said yes! Oh, I should go tell Marcus that I have the plot of land now, and get everything moving in that direction. Thank you so much, Mor. You’ve been such a help in all of this,” you said, placing a kiss gently on the alpha’s cheek. “I’m going to head over to Marcus’s business now, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, of course!” The alpha responded, already donning all of her winter clothes again to bundle against the cold. “You walk safely over to there, Velaris gets slippery when it snows. Now, will I see you for lunch this Thursday?” Mor asked, and you mentally double checked the day of the week in your head- Monday.

“Yes, three days from now sounds perfect. Do you want to meet somewhere or at my hotel room?”

“I’ll meet you at your hotel room this time, alright?”

You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good, I’ll see you on Thursday Mor. You walk safely too!” You were already out of the door with your bill of sale in hand, beelining your way as well as you could to the Palace of Flame and Steel. When you arrived at Marcus’s shop, you swung the door open and stomped off the snow on your boots before entering. “Marcus!” You said excitedly as you met his eyes, waving the paper in your hands at him. “I have land now, will you be able to come assess it in the next few days?”

Marcis stood from his place behind the desk and made his way around it to you. “I can go right now, there it too much to do around here at the moment,” he said, already ushering you out of his shop, flipping the open sign on the door to say closed, and locking it behind him.

“If you’re sure…” you said before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to the Rainbow as fast as the two of you could manage in the snow. “This is it!” You gesture to the dilapidated building excitedly.

“You are planning to tear it down, right?” Marcus asked, amusement in his voice.

“Of course I am, silly, I wanted the land. It has such a beautiful view of the Sidra and the mountains, come here.” You pulled him past the building, to where you had stood when you’d known that this was the land you wanted your dream to come to life on.

Marcus let out a heavy breath. “Okay, I get it now.” He looked around, taking in where they were situated. “And it’s in the perfect spot for a bakery, you really picked the best possible spot.”

“I know!” You squealed, jumping as high as you could without using your wings in your excitement. “So, what’s the procedure for tearing down the old building and starting the new construction?” You asked, ready to learn the necessary details.

Marcus pulled you back onto the street, and the two of you began to walk back to his business. “Well, we need to submit a request for a permit to demolish, and one for construction. But since I’ve done a good amount of work in the past six years, I doubt that there will be much more than two days of waiting time between submitting it and getting the permits. We can fill out all the forms once we get to my office, and I’ll get them sent up to the House of Wind as soon as I can.”

“Alright, that sounds doable enough,” you said as you threw a smile at him, happy that he’s kind about you not knowing much about the building process.

Soon enough the two of you are back at his office, and he swings the door open, letting you go inside first. He went through a filing cabinet behind his desk before pulling out a half inch thick stack of papers in total. Marcus turned back to you, placing them on the desk and gesturing for you to take a seat.

You do as he asks, and he sets two piles in front of you- both are identical. You give him a quizzical look, not understanding the purpose of having two.

“One pile is for your own personal records, and the other is for the permits and for our contract agreement, for payments and things like that. I suggest you read everything closely, and I can explain something to you if you’d like.”

You read through the stack of documents, finding everything to be fair, both in compensation for the company, and certain protections on promises made to you. You signed the contract documents first, letting Marcus take the pages as you finished to sign them himself. Then came the permit application, you needed to state why you wanted to tear the building down, then what you were going to replace it with.

That was easy, the current building would not suffice for a bakery, it might even burn down if you ride to light a fire in it. And building on top of the land, well, a bakery plus a second floor apartment with a small garden.

Once it was all filled out, Marcus went through every page to make sure that everything had been signed. “Alright, everything looks to be in order. I’ll write to you to let you know when it’s been approved, okay Y/N?”

You nodded your head, happy to be done with the paperwork portion of the day. “That sounds just fine, Marcus. I’ll see you in a few days, most likely,” you said before standing from your chair, stretching your muscles and wings slightly.

“I’ll see you then,” Marcus responded, asking you over to the door. By this point, the sun had begun to set over Velaris, but the city was more alive than it had been all throughout the morning.

“And thank you, Marcus. I look forward to working with you,” you added as you stepped outside and away from his shop.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

And the you were off, your new property deed tucked under safely against your body. You were eager to make your way home, wanting nothing more at this point than a hot bath and a warm meal- you didn’t particularly care in which order. You were at the inn soon enough, kicking snow off of your boots and the hem of your dress for the last time of the day.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” Druana greeted from behind the counter, waving a bark skinned hand at you.

“Thank you, Druana. I’ll see you in the morning!” You said, already making your way up the stairs in your rush to finally get out of your winter gear.

The door to your room swung open and shut quickly, and you sat at the table in the center of the room, undoing the laces of your boots as fast as you were able. They came off, then followed by your dress after unbuttoning the back carefully. Now you were only standing in your underthings and tights, and very much feeling the chill that had set in from being outside in your bones. You stripped off the rest of your clothes before heading into the bathroom and starting the tub.

Gloriously hot water spilled out of the faucet, and you didn’t wait for it to fill up, merely settling yourself in as the water slowly came up to your neck. You allowed yourself to soak for a few minutes, letting the cold seep from your bones and warmth replace it. Once you felt warmed and comfortable, you washed yourself quickly after hearing your stomach growl loudly.

After toweling off, you went back into your bedroom and donned a soft set of white cotton underthings, as well as an oversized lilac sweater that you were able to wear like a dress, the back already having had the fabric carved out of it to fit your wings. It was so cozy and soft, you felt buried in it. Just how you wanted to feel after an eventful day.

You went to the kitchenette, pulling out the cutting board, pot, and pan. You grabbed the cookbook from the table and set it on the counter next to the cutting board, reading over the instructions once more. Next you pull out the chicken and grab a suitable enough knife, dicing the meat into bite sized chunks as the recipe called for. You set them in the pan, lighting the charcoal beneath the burner to get the heat started.

You washed the knife and cutting board and dried them off, then grabbed the root vegetables that you’d bought earlier. Similar to baking, you switched between washing and chopping the vegetables to moving the meat around the pan easily, being careful not to burn anything while getting everything else you would need prepped.

Paying attention to the recipe, you measured out the right amount of each spice, mixing them with a bit of water to create a paste that smelled heavenly and spicy.

The chicken was done now, and you added the vegetables along with a bit of water and the coconut milk. Then all you had to do was wash and set the rice to cook, and wait. You rinsed the rice in one of the bowls, getting the water clear before carefully draining it out and placing the rice in to the now boiling water.

In another twenty minutes, you deemed the vegetables and rice to be cooked enough, and dished out a nice serving of rice, with lots of curry on top.

You cleared off the table, moving your new books over to the nightstand by your bed, then brought your dinner to the table. You sat facing the windows and stared out at Velaris as you ate, pleasantly surprised with how nicely the curry had turned out, with it being your first time cooking anything like it.

Soon enough you were full and getting sleepy, so you brought your dishes back to the sink. You plated the rest of the rice and curry into the other bowl that you hadn’t used, then washed all of the dishes you had used that night.

By the time you had finished, your bed was calling to you, and it was such a soft, sweet landing when you finally made your way under the covers, deciding to sleep in your massive sweater instead of changing into a nightgown.

It’s not like anyone will see me sleeping, anyways, you thought to yourself, right as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, filled with the view from your new property.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @breadsticks2004

#you can have it #acotar a/b/o #alpha!feyre x omega!reader x alpha!rhys #alpha!feysand x omega!reader #acotar omegaverse #feysand x reader omegaverse #feysand x reader #alpha!morrigan #alpha!nesta #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfic #feysand x you #tato writes #omega!reader

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hwaslayer · 4 months ago

Text

flowers on the floor (kys) | part two. (final)

(part one)

—summary: when yeosang decided he was going to take a month-long vacation, he was mainly hoping to get away from his mundane routine and the stress of work. he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet you and build a connection unlike he’s ever known. when the end of his vacation nears, promises are made to keep the relationship alive, to keep it blossoming. but eventually, as the reality settles in and the distance continues to put a wedge into your relationship, you drop your end of the promise without any trace. despite the heartbreak, all yeosang can do is think about you— hoping the universe will lead you to each other again.

—pairing: kang yeosang x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 25k | playlist

—content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, details about a toxic relationship (mentions of gaslighting, manipulation, infidelity), a lil more details about oc’s family dynamics, alcohol consumption and intoxication/yacking, party scenes, crying, lots of overthinking, insecurities, negative talk, lots of lil flashback scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), making out, sprinkle of breast play, sorry if i missed anything - i tried to edit this quick af lol

—a/n: ty for waiting for me <33 see you soon for professor choi's debut 🤪

Yeosang can remember the last time he had a good night sleep, and it was when he was with you.

Now, he calls your dead number hoping you’ll miraculously pick up— just to be met by that automated message that reminds him that you really aren’t around and he has no idea where to find you.

It’s a shame he doesn’t even have your friends saved on his phone. He always relied on you, communicated through you. He could easily pull them up on Instagram, but he feels the need to just go to town in case you’re still hiding out in any of its corners, hiding out in its deepest crevices.

He doesn’t think he’ll find sleep any time soon, so he gets up and gets himself ready as it hits 6am. He takes a taxi down to the train station, making it just in time to catch the 6:45am train to town. He’s got a new podcast he listens to, one that he wishes he could share with you and tell you all the details about. He misses the nights when you’d share your true crime findings and he’d talk about his current podcast obsession for hours on end. He misses hearing your voice, misses hearing how enthusiastic you get. He misses when you used to call him babe or baby; whining over the phone for his attention.

He misses everything about you.

He’s not even sure why he’s impulsively heading to town, now that he really thinks about it. He’s truly holding onto hope that maybe you’re just hiding out and taking time away, even though his gut is telling him otherwise.

He gets into town a bit close to 11am, and he takes a taxi straight to the restaurant. Everything feels like a distant, far memory. Waves of emotions wash over him as he watches the surroundings brush past, remembering his first times here. All of his memories with you.

It feels like a fever dream.

“Yeosang!” Mingi yells with a smile on his face. He wraps his arms around him in a big hug, patting him on the back. He knows what he’s here for and he’s already sorry he can’t be of more help to him, especially when he sees that Yeosang arrived alone and without you. He wishes he can, but he can’t. He’s just as lost as he is. “Missed you, my guy.”

“Aye! Look who it is!” Keeho and Jungkook come out from the back to greet Yeosang with soft smiles and daps.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Yeosang digs his hands into his pockets. “Where’s Mina?”

“She’s at work. The dentist is open on Saturdays and she’s the office manager.” Yeosang nods as Mingi responds. “Keeho, can you take them?” He nods towards the customers that just walked in and sat down.

“Bruh, why me? What do you even do here? Act like decoration?” Jungkook snorts.

“It was good seeing you.” Jungkook smiles. “Let us know if you want anything, on the house.” He turns to finish cooking in the kitchen.

“No seriously, we missed you, dude. Stay for a bit or something. Get comfortable.” Yeosang shakes his head and smiles at Keeho.

“Thanks, I’m good. Promise.”

“You okay?” Mingi looks at him as Keeho and Jungkook busy themselves.

“I— yeah, I don’t know.” Mingi sits and lets out a breath.

“I see Y/N isn’t with you.” Mingi says it out of worry; there’s no tension, no bad blood, no anger behind it. He’s not teasing and pushing Yeosang’s buttons. He is just worried.

“And I see she isn’t with you, either.” Yeosang purses his lips— the hope he had slowly dwindling and lowering on the gauge.

“Yeo, I’m not sure what to tell you. She was here, then she was gone.”

“Did she—“ Yeosang slightly shakes his head. “Did she tell you where?”

“I’m sorry, dude. I really wish I could tell you, but I don’t know anything. She didn’t say anything to anyone. Just.. left. When she was supposed to be back at work after visiting you, we hadn’t heard from her or seen her all day. We went to her studio and the landlord said she packed up and left, never came back.” Yeosang sighs and it breaks Mingi’s heart a bit. “I tried to reach out to her and check up on her but her old number doesn’t even go through anymore.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi looks at him. “So, she never came to see you that week?”

“No. I-I waited for her when she was supposed to come. For almost an hour. She never showed. Her number was dead by then.” Mingi shakes his head.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Mingi mutters, but he’s mostly thinking outloud, saying it to himself.

“It doesn’t. I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Mingi can say, because what else can he do? He doesn’t know anything. None of them do. “We’re gonna continue keeping an eye out for her. Any sign of her. You’ll be the first to know.” He hands Yeosang his phone. “I realized we all never got your number.” Yeosang chuckles a bit.

“I was eventually going to ask, but yeah. I got comfortable with Y/N being around and sending messages on my behalf.” He plugs in his number and hands the phone back to Mingi. Mingi sends him a message and gives him a tiny, pursed smile before tucking his phone in his pocket.

“That’s me. I sent you Keeho’s, Jungkook’s and Mina’s, too.”

“Thanks.”

“It probably sounds dumb with the circumstances, but give her some time. I think she’ll come around.”

“Mm.” Yeosang hums. “I just hope she’s okay.” There’s a slight pause between the two before Mingi speaks up again.

“Want anything for the road?” Yeosang shakes his head.

“I’m good. I’ll see you guys again soon. Maybe?” Mingi brings him in for a hug and nods.

“Soon.” Yeosang waves to Keeho and Jungkook before stepping out of the restaurant, taking in the smell of the ocean nearby.

“Shouldn’t we file a missing person’s report or something? Like.. she’s deadass missing. Is no one getting that?” Keeho asks.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Keep your voice down.”

“What do you mean no, Kook? We have no idea where she’s at, even Yeosang. She could be hurt.”

“No, I know she’s not. I know she’s out there somewhere, okay. Just give her some time. Let’s not make it any bigger than it should be right now, she probably has a reason and needs to be by herself. Let’s trust her, alright?” Keeho and Mingi let out deep sighs before nodding. Jungkook isn’t sure where he’s pulling this from— honestly, he does feel it within him, instinctual if you may, that you’re fine and that you’ve managed to find a safe place.

“Fine. But if it gets too long, I’m serious.” Keeho tosses the rag onto the counter and continues to tend to the customers sitting around.

Yeosang takes a small stroll along the beach, kicking along at the rocks and listening to the waves crash against the surface. It hurts a little to be here without you, because everything about this town is you. He swallows the lump in his throat when he feels the dull pain in his chest, doing his best to push it aside and breathe through it. He walks deeper into town, waving and conversing with a few people he had met from his visit. They’re all happy to see him, and they all question where you’ve been since they hadn’t seen you around. All he can do is shrug in return and tell them that he hasn’t seen you either.

It’s all a big game.

They sympathize with him, maybe some even pity him, but they send him off with warm smiles and big hugs— telling him they hope to see him again for longer soon. He hopes so, too. But next time, he hopes to be with you. Happy again.

Whenever that is.

He’ll tell himself it’s soon, even though he knows he’ll have to go through a long ass maze before he gets to the end.

Jeongin looks at you as you sort through your two luggages and fix your clothes into the three drawers on the side of your bed frame and in your tiny closet. He doesn’t even know what to say— quite frankly, he’s still trying to process the fact that you’re in front of him. In the flesh. Organizing your clothes because.. you’re back home and staying?

“So.. what? You just upped and left everyone? Your other friends? You didn’t tell anyone anything?”

“Nope.”

“You even got a new number. How are they supposed to contact you?”

“They don’t. For now.”

“Even that visitor guy you were seeing?” You stay quiet. It breaks your heart when Yeosang’s face flashes in your head. You miss him, you miss everything about him. And you wish it was easier to explain yourself, to tell him why you felt the need to run.

You just don’t think you deserve him. How could you be the person he deserved? What if you failed miserably and disappointed him, too? You couldn’t live with it. Not another disappointment.

“What if they file a missing person’s report, hm?” Jeongin tilts his head and you pause, looking at him dead in the eye. Jeongin realizes he doesn’t even know any of your friends from town by name. You’ve talked about this visitor guy so often, yet you’ve never said his name. He knows him as the visitor, that’s it. He’ll never understand why you tried to keep the two parts separate, but he guesses it’s making sense now— because of times like these, when you just need to be away and alone where no one can find you. But, why? What is the reason this time?

“They won’t, okay? I’m going to call them soon. Just.. let me get my things together.”

“No one else knows you’re here? Ryujin, Bin and Sannie?”

“Nope. I’m gonna see Ryujin tomorrow.”

“Your parents—”

“Not one word to them, Yang Jeongin.” You look at him. “Not yet. I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.”

“Okay, but my parents are gonna wonder why I keep leaving the house Y/N. Did you not think about any of this?” You sigh.

“No. I’m sorry. But, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll get to them before your parents question anything.”

“What’re you planning to do here then?” The questions continue to spill out of Jeongin’s mouth because he sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to call him in the middle of the day, asking for you to meet him at some random house. He finds you’ve rented a tiny in-law, using the savings you’ve accumulated over time, but that’s not really the issue. He’s happy you’re back home [in a sense], but you look frazzled. All over the place. Sad. Hurt. And Jeongin isn’t sure why you’re hiding from everyone and why you’ve decided to do this without letting anyone know. But, he can’t say he’s surprised because you did leave after graduation without saying much. He can’t say he’s surprised because you tend to run, and you run often.

“I don’t know, Innie. I just don’t know how to explain it. I wanna get myself together and get a job at the vet or aquarium, start working my way up so people start finally realizing I do have a purpose.” You pathetically chuckle. You just want to feel worthy. Like you have something to be proud of. Like you can finally genuinely be proud of yourself. For things you wanna do.

“Okay, cool. I’m all for it. But.. did something happen? Did he hurt you?” You remain quiet, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N, did he hurt—”

“No.” You sniffle. “He could never. It was me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve him. What if I disappoint him, too? What if I can’t be the person he needs? What if he realizes I’m not shit?”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” He furrows his brows. “Why didn’t you give him a chance? It sounded like he cared about you, so why did you just let it go?”

“I can’t explain it. I just don’t wanna be another disappointment to someone, especially him.”

“Y/N.”

“Jeongin, please. Okay? I’m tired. I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to explain it to you. Please be on my team right now, that’s all I need.” He sees the tears slowly falling, staining your cheeks as you continue to unpack and keep quiet. He lets out a small sigh, shifting in his position on the hardwood floor to embrace you in a warm, tight hug.

“I am, I am. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be sure you were okay and not hurt.”

“I am.” It’s another lie, but it’ll help hold over until Jeongin becomes more curious.

“Can you do one thing for me, though?”

“Hm?” You hum.

“Can you promise me you’ll call your friends from town? They’re going to worry about you.”

“I will.” He nods and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans before standing.

“Should we go out and buy you some more furniture?” He looks around the incredibly empty and sad room. “Maybe some decor? I don’t know. Give your space some life?”

“If you buy me dinner, intern.” He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” You chuckle, wiping away the stragglers running down your cheeks before hugging him tightly. Closely. You really missed your cousin, and he’s the comfort you need right now. Jeongin wraps his arms around you before squeezing lightly and pulling away.

“Let’s go.”

Jeongin takes you to a small furniture and decor store nearby, one that isn’t typically crowded or sought out. It does have cute furniture in stock, and you manage to grab a few necessities and prints to hang around your room. You don’t grab much, though. It’s enough to fit in Jeongin’s car [barely]. As promised, he takes you out to dinner while you sort through your employment plans with him. At the same time, he manages to update you about how his internship is going, how he’s trying his hardest to work hard and make sure he’s keeping up. You can only imagine how tough it can get for him, but he’s a smart and bright kid— you know he’ll succeed either way. You stay for about 2.5 hours before the sun finally sets and you’re heading back to your place under the twinkling stars, the bright moonlight.

While you’re fixing up your place with Jeongin that night, Yeosang finds himself getting wasted just a ways away. He doesn’t know you’re so close; yet, in his mind you’re so far and distant. So gone and lost. And that’s what kills him every time he thinks about it because he just doesn’t know where you are. It kills him because he still holds so much love for you, and he all he wants to do is hold you. Tell you everything will be okay. Console you. Be the man you need.

You won’t let him, though. Why?

“Yeo, that’s enough.” Chaerin pouts as she shoves the soju bottle away. “Let’s go.”

“One more.” He says, struggling to bring the shot glass to his lips. Wooyoung takes the glass from his hand and takes the shot on his behalf, no longer wanting Yeosang to drown in all this alcohol tonight.

“Let’s go.” Wooyoung repeats, standing to his feet while Jongho helps Yeosang up.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jongho struggles to hold up a drunk, stumbling Yeosang. He’s got an arm over his shoulder but he keeps slumping over, making it harder for Jongho to take proper steps.

“You okay?” Jongho asks even though he’s clearly not. But, he needs to know if they should stop and sit. If he’s gonna yack.

“Will I ever be?!” Yeosang drunkly responds with a pathetic laugh. “She fucking left and I have no idea where the hell she is! I’m so stupid— this is all so fuuuuucking stupid!” His tone raises, causing a few passerbyers to look their way.

“Yeo, come on.” Woo says, handing him some water. “Stop.”

“I just wish she knew how fucked up this is.” Yeosang laughs again. “Isn’t so fucked up how much I love her and she doesn’t even feel the same?”

“I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate right now, but you don’t know that. You don’t know what happened.”

“She left, that’s what happened! If she felt the same, she wouldn’t have done that! You d-don’t do that to people w-who—” He hiccups as he struggles to get his thought out.

“Okay, okay.” Chaerin diffuses the situation. “Let’s just go home and get you in bed.” She looks at Jongho and Wooyoung, both having the same, concerned expression on their faces. They finally make it to the car and shove Yeosang’s drunk ass in the back seat, with Chaerin holding a plastic bag in hand just in case.

Luckily though, Yeosang falls asleep for the short ride home. It becomes a mess all over again when Wooyoung steps out of the car to let him out— Yeosang stumbling over himself and damn near falling before leaning onto the side of his apartment and yacking his brains out. Chaerin stays with him until he’s good, all 3 helping him into his apartment and into bed. Chaerin gives him one last look as she sets the water bottle and trash can near his bed, a small frown forming on her lips as she leaves and shuts his door behind her. Wooyoung decides to stay behind and plops onto Yeosang’s couch, making himself comfortable for the rest of the night. He scrolls through his phone, pulling up IG in hopes of finding any possible way to get into contact with you. He knows it’s a reach, but he just feels like as Yeosang’s bestfriend, he needs to try.

He tries your name, but of course, nothing comes up. He looks up the restaurant Yeosang told him about, and he sees the restaurant’s IG page. He’s not sure what he can do with it, though. Even if you’re in the photos, it doesn’t give him anything. Yeosang has already traveled back to town to get more info from your friends, but apparently, they aren’t aware of your whereabouts either.

Where the fuck were you?

He’s already feeling frustrated with the fact that he has no other leads; he can only imagine what Yeosang’s going through right now. He wished he knew, but he’s at a loss. Wooyoung’s just hoping Yeo will at least get a sign soon. He doesn’t think you’ll hide out for long, there’s no way. Even with all this shit, he truly believes you’ll still find Yeosang and talk this out. He’s holding out hope, especially if his bestfriend can’t right now. It’s hard to tell if it’s a good or bad thing at this moment, but he can at least be a pillar of strength for Yeosang if it all falls through. Or, a pillar of strength to push him forward because he knows how much he cares about you.

All these thoughts swirling in his head put him to sleep pretty quickly, and Wooyoung falls into a deep sleep— better than one that he expected. However, that next morning is rough for Yeosang, to say the least. He wakes up and has an awful, pounding headache. He forces himself to get up anyway; hops in a quick, hot shower and heads out to find Wooyoung lying down on his couch, now stirring himself awake.

“You good?”

“Define good.” Yeosang plops on the floor by him.

“Guess not.” He snorts. “Do you remember last night?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. I do.” Yeosang sighs. “Sorry. I gotta call Chaerin and Jongho to apologize.”

“It’s all good. We know it’s tough right now.”

“Still.”

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know. I’ll keep looking, I guess. I—“ He pauses. “I don’t wanna give up on her even though she already has. I just can’t find it in me to let it go.”

“I mean, I get it. But, you do know, there is gonna come a point where you’ll have to if she hasn’t reciprocated or tried reaching out. I’m only saying this because you’re my bestfriend. I want you to find her and I want you two to work through this and be happy. But, I also need you to realize the other side of this in case it falls through.”

“I know. Thanks. I appreciate it.” He lays his head back against the edge of the couch and shuts his eyes.

“Wanna get breakfast? Just gotta drive me home so I can wash up and change.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll treat your ‘lil sad ass out.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung laughs as they both get up and get ready for their day— a day where Wooyoung can at least try to help his bestfriend stop thinking about you, stop thinking about everything going on for a bit. Maybe, he can at least have somewhat of a normal day.

For you, it’s not necessarily an ordinary day either. You’ve been standing in front of your mirror, trying to get yourself together before heading to Ryujin’s house after these years. You know San and Changbin are probably there, and you’re not really sure if you’ll ever be ready to see your friends after dipping and dashing.

How to explain yourself now? Why were you back?

Why were you running again?

You’re honestly not planning to call ahead of time, you’re just hoping she’ll be home at the time you come. You feel entirely unprepared, nervous, scared even, that she’d judge you for being who you are. For getting too into your thoughts, for thinking the way you do, for running. But, she proves you time and time again that she is your bestfriend for a reason. Your bestfriend that you can count on and feel safe with regardless of distance, time.

“Y/N?” Ryujin opens the door slowly, a small pout forming on her lips. You don’t say anything in response before you find yourself crying and throwing your arms around her tightly. Every emotion, every bit of sadness, hurt, confusion, fear, you had been feeling finally swept to the surface and made itself known. She cries, too. But, you think Ryujin is mainly crying because she hasn’t seen you physically in years. Part of it could also be that she hates seeing you cry, and she’s most definitely aware that something is going on for you to be crying on her doorstep. She’ll wait until you’re ready to share, though. For now, she’ll take the fact that she has you here, and possibly for good again.

“Is she crying?” San asks from the living room, where him and Changbin are currently sprawled out on the floor.

“Over our food getting delivered?” Changbin sits up. “Is she getting her period?” He looks at his phone.

“I don’t know, isn’t it more towards the end of the month? That’s when she gets hella—” Changbin looks up and immediately stands, approaching you as you stand in the hallway next to Ryujin.

“Y/N? No way!” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a big hug. “Is that actually you?”

“Yes it’s me, you dummy.” You mumble against his chest before he pulls away and gives San a chance to hug you.

“What the hell, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Changbin asks, but he suddenly shifts his tone when he notices how red your eyes are. The bags underneath. How tired and stressed you seem to be. “Wait, what’s wrong?” The question is enough to trigger more crying from you, causing you to dig your face into your hands before you even get a chance to sit.

“Here, let’s go sit so we can all talk.” San ushers you to the living room couch, sitting alongside you with Ryujin on your free side. Changbin opts for sitting on the ground, looking up at you with concern. You tell them everything, and you mean everything: running away because of all the pressure from your family, the hurt you felt from your ex. Your need to start new somehow, to feel worthy, to feel loved and appreciated in one form or another. You still don’t give them any names, but you do tell them you’ve made really good friends down there that you think they’d enjoy.

Then, with a brief pause, you tell them about Yeosang. Un-named, of course. But, you tell them like it’s the greatest love you’ve ever experienced in such a short amount of time. It is. Kang Yeosang was the biggest blessing you’ve been granted in such a long time, you’re not even sure how you’d ever move on or what you’re even doing right now. Changbin rests a hand on your knee when he sees you struggling to speak in between your sobs, choked up from all the crying you’ve been doing. Quite frankly, he has seen you cry like this. He hated it because back then, you cried because you were hurt. You were hurt and as your bestfriend, he was angry. You were treated terribly, you were treated in a way that you absolutely did not deserve. And for the longest time, he wondered when you’d stop crying over your ex, when you’d finally get past that point of being so down and out about someone who didn’t recognize your worth. Now, he finds you’re crying because you’re so deeply in love. You’re crying because you’ve been so afraid to hurt the only good thing that’s ever come into your life. You’re crying because you gave up the one thing that brought you pure happiness out of all the fear built within you from your past. He hates it now because he’s sad for you. All that mess from the past made you leave the one thing you truly deserved— a chance at pure, genuine happiness.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Ryujin continues to hold you and rub your arm. “I’m sorry.” She repeats. “What can we do? Should we go back to town? Why keep hiding if you know you feel the same way for him?”

“I’m just scared. I’m scared I’ll treat him badly and I won’t make him happy. I just can’t—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” San taps your leg, reassuring you and not wanting to overwhelm yourself. “You’re an amazing person though, Y/N. I’m sure he loved you for you and would’ve been willing to do this ride with you. Nothing is ever perfect.”

“Look, we’ll be here to support you no matter what, okay? You know that. Just tell us what you’ll need and we’ll help you. But, I need you to know that you’re never going to be alone. You won’t be. No matter what it is, you can always talk to us, Y/N.” Bin chimes in. “You don’t have to go through all of this by yourself just because you think no one wants to listen to you or help you get through it. You’re not being a burden, I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“I’m sure the same goes for your friends from town and.. him. Whatever your ex did, doesn’t define who you are. Same thing with the fights you had with your parents. None of that is you.” You sigh, lazily wiping away at your tears as you nod. Maybe it was time to finally come face to face with your demons. Maybe it was time to finally learn how to make peace with it and stop letting it determine your surroundings, your environment, your present.

Because it isn’t your past.

“I really missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too.”

“You’re staying?” San asks.

“I am.”

“Good. Then, we’ll take it one step at a time.” Ryujin wipes her own tears before shaking it off and smiling at you. “How about we order a bunch of food and drink like the old days, hm? Why don’t you stay over tonight?” You nod, knowing you can just borrow some of Ryujin’s clothes until tomorrow. Ryujin whips up a quick and easy snack for everyone to indulge in before San and Changbin decide to go head to head in Mortal Kombat, while you and Ryujin hang out in her room. It brings you back to the old days, the days when you didn’t have many worries, too much bullshit flooding your head, when the world didn’t feel like it was gonna swallow you whole. The both of you could comfortably sit or lie down in a comfortable silence, each doing your own thing within the same space. Right now, she’s definitely scrolling through aesthetic Youtube shorts next to you, watching people pack their lunches or their night-time routines in a quick second reel.

You, though?

You lie in Ryujin’s bed, constantly typing in Yeosang’s number and deleting it. You pull up his IG and look through his posts, surprised he still has pictures of you posted on there despite the mess you’ve buried him in. Your heart aches when you catch his caption from the most recent post, suddenly the need and want to be in Yeosang’s arms stronger than ever. It’s a picture of you tucked in between his legs while you both sat on the sand, overlooking the ocean. He holds you close, his chest pressed against your back as his arms hang over your shoulders. You remember that day so well— Mingi was out paddleboarding while Keeho and Jungkook were working at the restaurant. You’re laughing [probably at Mingi], while Yeosang is looking down at you with the biggest, brightest smile you’ve ever seen. He’s smiling but his lips are pressed right against the side of your head.

Caption: you.

It’s so simple, yet it says so much about Yeosang and what this means to him. You feel the guilt, the sadness, bubbling in your gut; forcing you to swallow the lump in your throat to somehow help bury the feelings—

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You turn to Ryujin on her bed while the boys have moved ontoo another game in the living room, immediately closing out the instagram app on your phone.

“What was he like?” She smiles softly. “You know, your man from town.” You chuckle, knowing Ryujin hasn’t yet experienced a deep love but isn’t really in a rush to find it. You admire her, truly. She knows not to go looking in the wrong places and to just let it come when it comes.

“He’s the most beautiful person I’ve met. He’s handsome. Charming. Always took care of me and put me first. He settled into town quick, people adored him. He was always helping out where he could. We kinda just.. fell in one piece together.”

“Was it good?”

“Ryu!”

“I’m just wondering!” You don’t respond and she immediately laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Most importantly." You give her a look and she giggles. "He was always showing me how he felt. He wanted to make this work, and he was willing. He wanted to do everything for me and I just didn’t let him because I was scared.” Your voice tapers off.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Wouldn’t it be nice to see the stars up close? I wonder what it’s like to be in space.”

“I imagine it’s beautiful.” Yeosang says as he looks up at the sky with you as you both sit on the rooftop of your apartment complex.

“Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are doe-eyed as he looks down at you with curiosity, wondering where your thoughts are right now.

“I wish I could touch a star. Hold one in the palm of my hands.”

“I dunno if that’s possible, pretty girl.” He does a slight head tilt. “Can’t bag it ‘till we try it, right?” You look at him when he starts raising his hand to the sky, pretending to pluck away at the tiny dots in the night sky.

“What’re you doing?” You smile as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m trying to grab you as many stars as possible.”

“Sangie.” You giggle as you watch him continue to pretend and pluck the stars from the sky, setting it aside next to you.

“You asked for the stars, so I’m delivering.”

“You’re the best.” You plant a kiss on his shoulder before resting your chin on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose.

“Only for you.”

❊ END

“I don’t think you have to be, love. He sounds like a genuinely good person.”

“It’s just me.” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small smile.

“He’s here, yeah?” You nod. “When you’re ready, go find him and talk to him. I’m sure he’s out there looking for you and it doesn’t sound like he’s the type to give up.”

“I will.”

“Can I see a picture of him? I won’t do anything, promise.” You pull up a photo of Yeosang on your phone, one of him posing by the beach; the other, him holding you from behind while he presses a kiss to your temple. Ryujin’s eyes light up when she sees how genuinely happy you are in the photo, how much you glow. “He’s gorgeous, Y/N! What the fuck! Does he have friends?!”

“Yeah, he does. I just haven’t met them yet.”

“You two are perfect.” She chuckles as she looks at the picture once more before returning the phone to you. “Hey. Have you talked to your parents?”

“Nope. They don’t even know I’m here.”

“Will you?”

“When I’m ready.”

“What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

“I’ve applied to a couple of vets, the aquarium. Hopefully, I snag a job at the aquarium somehow. It’d be so fun.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I’m proud of you.” Your bestfriend says. “It hasn’t been easy, but look at you. Still going strong. Doing your thing. You’re doing your best.” She pinches your arm playfully. “But, I just want you to be happy. Stop running from the people that bring you happiness, okay? You deserve it. No matter what was said or done in the past.”

“Thank you.” You pull her into a hug and cling onto her for a good minute, taking in the comfort Ryujin brings to you.

The rest of the day goes as it usually does with San, Changbin and Ryujin. Despite the time away, being apart, everything felt completely normal; as if you picked up right where you left off. You take more time to catch up with them over some good eats before walking around the neighborhood and getting some air. You grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner, inviting Jeongin over after he runs some errands with his parents. You like the fact that your friends treat Jeongin like their own sibling, taking care of him well while you were away. He easily blends in as soon as he arrives, stepping into the kitchen to help prep for dinner. You all take the food out to Ryujin’s little porch, setting a fire for the boys to grill some meat. It’s a relaxing night; the weather isn’t too cold, but you definitely can still spot your breath in the air. Ryujin’s neighbors probably hate it when all of you are together because the moment the alcohol kicks in, you all start singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. Changbin suddenly flips the switch and wants to tell everyone scary stories he claims are true and some he even witnessed firsthand— not necessarily lessening the noise on the porch because of the back and forth bickering that occurs in between. You’re not really a fan of scary shit, obviously; hence, those movie nights with your friends from town, digging your face into Yeosang’s chest to avoid any contact with the movie. You pull out your phone and start pressing Yeosang’s number into the phone app to try and distract you, but you don’t press call. You just delete, and re-type. It almost feels like your safety blanket at this point.

You could call if you wanted to.

Initially, you had opted for blocking him, but eventually, you knew it’d catch up to you through your friends— Jungkook, Mina, Mingi, Keeho. So, you end up scrapping the plan to get a new phone, a new number entirely. Get rid of IG, any trace of social media. That way, they couldn’t find you. It’s kinda ironic, almost symbolic, how quick and painless it happens at first; almost like a sign that you were meant to start fresh and bring out a clean slate.

Innie, Ryujin and Jungkook’s numbers are the only other ones you memorize by heart. Innie and Ryujin because they’re the closest ones you’ve had throughout all these years, Jungkook because you can count on the times you’ve mustered up the courage to play hooky and call in sick. Or, to pick up his call when you were running late and he was wondering where you were at. That number came up on your screen way too often, but now, you’re kinda glad it turned out that way.

“I’ll be back. I need to make a call.” You tell your friends as you slip away and back into Ryujin’s living room. You dial the number and press the phone to your ear, only waiting 2 rings until Jungkook picks up along with the restaurant’s background noise.

“Hello?”

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N?” There’s a slight pause as you think about your response. “Y/N? Hello?” He repeats.

“Hey.”

“Y/N, what the fuck.” Jungkook leaves the restaurant and heads to the back area where it’s a little quiet. “We’ve been worried about you. Where are you?”

“I’m fine, okay. I’m sorry. I.. broke my phone and needed to get a new one, so this is my new number.” You lie. You lie and you lie, hoping it’ll mask the pain somehow. Hoping people won’t question your decisions and the way you’ve been acting. Why you’ve been running, why you can’t just stay put and let yourself be happy.

“Why didn’t you call someone right away or text us before you left? What the hell is going on?”

“I just have to take care of some stuff at home. I’m sorry.” You repeat, and he sighs heavily. You can’t even see him, but you know he’s running his hand through his black hair. Placing that hand on his hip. Ready to scold you, but doesn’t because he knows you don’t need it right now. He can easily sense how stressed you are, how scared and sad you feel. He hopes you’re truly okay and hanging in there.

“Y/N, you know we would’ve helped you.” He pauses. “And Yeosang—”

“Jungkook, I need you to promise me you aren’t gonna tell anybody anything right now. Let Mingi, Mina and Keeho know I’m okay and that everything’s fine. I’ll talk to them soon, but please. Please don’t say anything else, and please don’t tell Yeosang.” You beg and he sighs.

“Why are you doing this? He came by not too long ago and it’s heartbreaking, dude. I’ve never seen anyone so defeated over something.”

“I’ll— I’ll talk to him soon, Jeon Jungkook, promise me. For real. If we’re friends, you’ll—”

“Okay, okay. I’ll only promise if you promise to talk to him soon, too. Or else, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep this from him forever. He just wants to see you and talk to you, Y/N. He cares about you, and he misses you like crazy. Don’t let him slip away.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you called.” Jungkook adds. “We miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too.” You bite onto your bottom lip to prevent your tears from flowing. “Thank you, Kook.”

“Course. You sure you’re okay? You’re safe, got a place and everything?”

“I am. I promise you.”

“Alright. Call me if you need me. For anything.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Stay safe.” Jungkook ends the call and looks at his phone in some sort of disbelief. He’s relieved he finally heard from you, he knew he would. It was just a matter of time, and it didn’t help that Keeho was constantly on his ass about finding out where you were. He tucks his phone into his pocket just as he walks back into the restaurant, only to be greeted by Keeho himself.

“Where’d you go? Some impatient ass people were asking about their food—” Keeho furrows his brows while taking a better look at him. “What’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Iono, like you saw a fucking ghost or something.” Keeho licks his lips. “Is it Y/N?” Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he continues to wash his hands and finish setting up the plates for said table [who is complaining]. “Yo, Jungkook. What is it? Is she okay? If she’s hurt—”

“She’s not.” Jungkook looks at him and slides over the plates. “She’s fine. She just called me to tell me she was okay.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you call me and Mingi over? We wanna talk to her, too.”

“It’s not that, Keeho. I’m sorry, I know you guys want to, but I don’t think she’s ready yet. I truthfully don’t even think she was ready to call me either.” Jungkook looks at him. “She said she’ll talk to you guys soon but she’s safe and she’s fine.” Keeho lets out a heavy sigh before shaking his head and taking the plates.

“Alright, fine. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Assuming she hasn’t talked to Yeosang?”

“No, but don’t say anything to him. Let her handle this.” Keeho shrugs.

“Alright, alright.” Jungkook sighs. At the end of the call, all you can do is stare at your phone for a bit before you toss it aside and start crying into your hands. You missed your friends. Your life back in town. You missed Yeosang so, so much. But so much of your insecurities took over, you felt like you didn’t have a choice but to run from them.

What if you would never be good enough for him? How did you deserve someone like Kang Yeosang?

“So, yeah. It’s next week already.” You hear Jeongin say as you finally gather yourself and walk back outside, patting away at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Jeongin looks over at and senses how your mood has changed. He can see you quickly patting away and wiping at your face while you tuck your phone into your pocket. You sit and tuck your knees close to your chest, and it’s so obvious you had just been crying. He won’t point it out, though. Tonight has already been going well and he’d hate to ruin that.

“Do you have a date or something?” San asks.

“No? I’m just going to go!”

“You’re not seeing anyone?” Jeongin shakes his head shyly.

“No.”

“Aw, baby bread is shy. You like someone at work, don’t you?”

“I don’t! I’ve barely been there for a month!” You giggle, watching as he roasts a marshmallow over the fire to make himself some smores.

“You sure?” You gently nudge him and he smiles.

“I just think there’s someone really pretty, but she’s probably already taken.”

“You never know.” You look at him. “Can I see a picture?”

“I have like.. a group photo we took at the company. We needed to take a new one for the website and I guess.. social media purposes.” He pulls up his phone and shows you the photo. He zooms into her face and lets you take a good look, biting onto his bottom lip when he hears you giggle a little louder.

“She’s very cute. You don’t have her instagram or anything yet?”

“Not yet. We’re not that close yet. But, planning to slowly get to know her more.”

“The party will be a good way to do so.” You zoom out of the picture, eyes quickly scanning the company photo when they land on a very, very familiar face.

In that group photo is Kang Yeosang.

Suddenly, you feel nervous. Sick, all over again. Almost like your cousin can read your thoughts as they quickly pan through your head right at this moment. You don’t know if it’s a good thing that Jeongin works at the same place as him; but, at the same time, you probably should’ve known there was a chance this could’ve happened.

“What? Are you eyeing the guys at the company?”

“No.” You shake your head and give him a tiny smile. “Was just looking at how big the group is. Enjoy yourself at the party, okay? It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks.” Jeongin says, taking his phone back. The crazy thing about Jeongin is that he can already tell there was more to it than you just ‘looking at how big the group is.’ He caught how fast your smile faded and how you shifted in your seat, body suddenly more tense than it was earlier. He looks at the photo one more time when you aren’t looking to see if anything seemed off, but he can’t tell. He just knows someone caught your eye and you won’t be willing to share that information soon.

What if someone in there was the visitor? Chances were low but never zero, right?

As the hours go on, Jeongin heads home a little closer to midnight, while San and Changbin wash the dishes in the kitchen before sleeping on the couch or floor. You and Ryujin lay in her bed again, talking about different things that have come up for her over the years. You’re surprised not much has changed, but Ryujin’s the type to go with the flow— take life as it comes. She falls asleep quickly after she listens to you tell her more stories from town, the people you’ve grown close to, the little things you’d do spending your days off. When she falls asleep, you find yourself pulling up all your pictures and videos again. You turn to your side and face the wall, finding a few tears streaming down your cheek when you revisit old memories.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Y/N!” You continue to run until you feel Yeosang’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him. You let out a loud squeal when he holds you tightly, refusing to let go. “Can’t go anywhere now, hm?”

“Oh, no.” You pretend to be scared. “Guess not.” You turn in his grip and face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’re such a brat.” You laugh, Yeosang’s warm hand coming up your sweater and rubbing against your bare back.

“But you love this brat, don’t you?” He lets out a small chuckle but doesn’t verbally respond. Instead, he dips forward to kiss you on the lips, keeping his movements slow and steady— hoping it’s enough to show you that he does love you. He hadn’t said it out loud at this point, but he does. Yeosang loves you. His hands roam up your sides, gently squeezing as they slowly continue to climb up your sweater. You smile against the kiss, your fingers getting tangled in the ends of his hair.

“Ya’ll please, get a room.” Keeho yells from behind. You break the kiss with a tiny laugh, flipping Keeho off from behind.

❊ END

You feel your bottom lip trembling, more tears threatening to spill when you replay those memories in your head like a film strip. You pull up the phone app again, fingers wanting to dial Yeosang’s number just like they’ve been trying to these past days.

Because you wanna hear his voice.

Tell him you’re sorry.

But, you prevent yourself from doing anything further. Not until you know you’re fully ready to see him and explain everything. Tonight, you’ll continue to stick with your memories, stigck with Yeosang’s voice in your head because this seems to be the safest place.

This is where things are good. This is where things aren’t ruined.

For now.

Time seems to be moving equally slow and quick.

Yeosang isn’t really sure what’s worse, but all he knows is that it’s been a couple of weeks since you two were supposed to meet. Now, it’s time for the work party and he’s having to face it alone. It’s one that he wanted you to be his date for. One that he’s not even in the mood to participate in but his friends are all going and so should he.

So yeah, maybe not alone; But, it sure as hell feels like it when you’re not with him.

He lets out a sigh when he finally goes into the store and tries to find a new pair of slacks and a button up shirt to wear tonight. He’s not even sure what color he’s going for— maybe an all-black fit? He’d typically ask for your opinion by now if you hadn’t already told him what colors you wanted to wear. He hates this, truly hates this.

He walks [mopes] around the store, lazily picking up a grey button up shirt and a black button up. He’s not sure which one he’ll go with yet, and he’s not in the mood to try them on. He carries them around as he continues to walk around the store, looking at other items he could possibly buy. He likes the moment of peace he has right now shopping alone, though he wishes he had specific company. He tries to bury the idea in the back of his head so he can get through today in one piece, but he already feels the struggle piling within him.

It’ll be a long, long day.

After an hour or so, Yeosang finally steps out of the store with a bag in hand after taking his time with the retail therapy. He bought some new outfits— one, of course, for the party that’s happening tonight, and the other, still with you in mind; hoping one day he could wear them and impress you all over again. He sighs to himself as he looks down at his phone, seeing a few notifications from his group chat. He tucks his phone into his pocket and looks out at the busy sidewalk, doing a double-take to his right when he feels like he’s caught a glimpse of the back of your head.

It can’t be you, can it?

Is the universe finally on his side for once?

Yeosang feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach as he rushes through the crowd, quietly spitting out small apologies and ‘excuse me’s’ while weaving through the waves of people.

“Y/N.” He feels like he loses you for a quick moment until he lands sight of you again. He reaches the end of the sidewalk and catches up. The moment his hand falls on the shoulder, he feels like he has finally reached the end of this maze, the final boss of this game. He has hope, a sense of victory, and he can’t wait to see your face—

“Excuse me?”

It’s not you. It’s definitely not you. He could’ve sworn it was, though. And his heart shatters all over again. He’s not sure how much more of a beating it can take; repeatedly trying to piece his heart back together just to have it shatter to pieces.

Being repeatedly stomped on over, and over, and over again.

“I-I’m sorry.” Yeosang says, ripping his hand away from her shoulder. She gives him a confused look before she puts her headphones back in and walks across the street, creating the most distance between herself and him. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, licking his lips as he turns down the street and heads back towards his car.

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you power down a random alley just to get away from the crowd, away from Yeosang—

“Oh my god, where did you even come from?” San asks when you run into his chest as he and Changbin are coming out of another store. “Where’s Ryujin?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Changbin looks at you when he sees you trying to catch your breath, eyes incredibly alert of your surroundings.

“Babe, I lost you for a second! Why did you run off like that?!” Ryujin says, bags in hand as she approaches the group. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just— I’m sorry.” You look at her and shake her head. “I thought I saw someone.”

“Him?” She brushes the hair away from your face when she gets closer, her tiny acts of affection enough to calm you down.

“Mhm.” You barely respond above a whisper. “I’m— I can’t run into him like this.”

“That’s alright.” San looks around. “It’s clear now, right? Let’s go get something to eat up this way.” You nod, letting Changbin and San lead the way while Ryujin continues to stick by your side. She rubs at your arm to try and keep you calm, reassuring you that Yeosang is probably long gone and down the other street.

Which, he is. Doesn’t mean he has stopped thinking about the run-in, though. Yeosang knows that it was you. He knows everything about you, every inch of your body, the way you walk— he knows you probably better than you know yourself. He wishes he caught you sooner because he knows his eyes aren’t deceiving him. He knows, he knows, he knows.

And it’ll be his fucking downfall for the rest of the day. There goes his mood for the party.

“Yeah?” Yeosang picks up Wooyoung’s call through the car’s bluetooth.

“Where are you?”

“Heading back home from running some errands.”

“Can I slide through? Jongho and Chaerin said they were just gonna meet us at the party tonight.”

“Yeah. I’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”

“Alright.” With that, Yeosang ends the call. He has music softly playing in the background just to fill the white noise, but quite frankly, the ride feels a lot quieter than it actually is. Yeosang doesn’t even wanna go tonight, not anymore. He just feels like laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, processing the feeling of having you in his hands just to slip away. Again.

When Yeosang gets home, he lets the front door shut louder than usual— the impact rattling his cabinets, shaking his walls. He sets his things aside, kicks his shoes off to the side and plops onto the couch. He lets his head hang back, shutting his eyes as he lets out a heavy sigh. The peace lasts for all of 2 seconds before Wooyoung comes barreling in, creating his own kind of chaos to make his presence known in the apartment.

“Yoohoo!” He whistles as he drops his things on top of Yeosang’s coffee table. “Did you just buy an outfit for tonight?” Wooyoung digs through Yeosang’s shopping bags.

“Maybe.”

“Biggest fucking procrastinator.” Wooyoung furrows his brows.

“I told you I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go.” Yeosang throws a ‘lil attitude in his response, mainly just irked at how his day went.

“Okay, sorry. Just jokes. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I saw her.” Yeosang opens his eyes and shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the ceiling above him. “Pretty sure it was her, but—” He looks flustered and Wooyoung isn’t even sure how to help him right now. All he can do is just stand and wait for Yeosang to continue. “Nevermind. I just thought I saw her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s good. Maybe this shit isn’t really meant to be, huh?” Yeosang sits up and looks at him, but Wooyoung just shrugs in response.

“I can’t say. I don’t wanna say no, but I don’t wanna say yes either because time keeps going on and she’s still not giving you anything. There aren’t any signs for you to work with and I’m not sure what else I can do or say to help. Maybe it’s time you put it to rest and let the world handle everything else. Stop controlling the shit you can’t control.”

“I guess.”

“Listen.” Wooyoung stands. “The party is tonight. I know you don’t wanna go, but our friends are gonna be there. It’ll be one night where you can let everything go and just enjoy yourself. That’s all I ask from you.” Yeosang turns to look at him and gives him a slow, tiny nod before getting up.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Good. Now, show me what you bought.” Wooyoung stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for Yeosang to try on the items he bought for tonight in particular. In the end, Yeosang ends up going with a simple all-black fit with a button-up halfway done. He has a silver watch on his wrist, silver chain sitting nicely around his neck. Him and Wooyoung take a few shots of some nasty ass whiskey that Wooyoung left at his place months ago before heading out to the venue. It’s deep downtown, a huge convention center with a couple of different rooms to accommodate all sorts of events. The music is already booming, and the place is filled with familiar faces. Yeosang does appreciate it because it’s the one time people can let loose and be a little more casual outside of the work setting.

He just wishes you were here with him.

Wooyoung is quick to socialize and drag Yeosang around to more shots, more champagne, more of everything that Yeo typically doesn’t really enjoy. But, he’ll indulge because what else does he have to lose tonight? The alcohol surely helps loosen him up, and it does help him get his mind off of things temporarily. It’s a nice feeling, and it almost feels foreign with how much his thoughts have been consumed by you these past weeks.

Jongho and Chaerin finally make it to the venue and casually join along to Wooyoung’s shenanigans, and the room feels 10x hotter than it was earlier with more people piling in with their plus one’s and other guests. There’s a little speech prepared by the CEO and leadership team, a congratulatory celebration per say for the goals already achieved at this point in the year. Jeongin is off to the corner with his friends, also feeling somewhat suffocated with how crowded the room feels after being here for just about an hour and a half. But, he tries to remember there’s a first for everything and tonight, he’ll enjoy himself. Get to know the cutie he’s been eyeing and see where it takes him. It’s a good start to the night all around. Both of them won’t complain. Yeosang will step out for a second though because it does get to be a little much when the music becomes more aggressive, the crowd is jumping around— people are drunk-drunk. As with all good nights, they also call for a break.

When he steps outside, he situates himself by the railing and looks out at the view of the city, the river ahead. It feels peaceful, especially with the way the wind is hitting him and providing temporary relief.

“It’s so pretty tonight.” Chaerin surprises him when she comes to his side and rests her hands on the rail.

“Yeah, it is.”

“You okay?”

“Mm, yeah. Crowd was just getting to be a little much. Had to step away for a second.”

“I feel you. Wooyoung is starting a mosh pit in the middle of the floor.” Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“Course.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“What makes you ask?”

“I dunno. Everything going on.” She fiddles with her thumbs before looking back out at the view.

“I guess. Trying to be, at least.”

“Still haven’t heard from her?”

“Nah.” Yeosang shakes his head and his smile drops a bit. “I’m not sure if I will at this point. I just— I don’t know. I don’t know where she’s at or why she's hiding from me. I don’t know where things went wrong.” Yeosang sighs, leaning over against the rail as Chaerin stands next to him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to go on.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry it’s been hard.”

“Don’t be. I’ll figure it out like I’ve always done.” He playfully pinches her cheeks and she giggles.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Hard to feel that way, really.” He lets out a pathetic chuckle as they both continue to look at the view.

“Well, for what it’s worth, she’s missing out. She doesn’t know how good she has it with you.” Yeosang looks at Chaerin, locking eyes with her as she gives him a small smile before subtly licking her lips. The look holds a lot more than she lets on, but Yeosang doesn’t break away from it. He’s caught off guard by what she does next and it doesn’t register for him right away when it happens. She tippy-toes and presses her lips against his, and Yeo indulges in the kiss for a good couple of seconds before abruptly breaking away and finally creating distance. He looks at Chaerin, and all she can do is shy away— placing her hand over her mouth as she avoids eye contact.

“Chaerin, I’m sorry, I—” He sighs. “We can’t—I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles and Yeosang feels his heart break for her because he can’t reciprocate. His heart lies with someone else, despite the bullshit that’s been happening. It’ll always be you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you any mixed signals.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have. Sorry.” She repeats before she’s rushing off back into the main room of the party.

“Chaerin!” Yeosang calls for her before releasing a groan. “Fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair before walking back inside, trying to keep his composure. He runs into Jongho first, and he can’t help but try and read his body language to see if he knows anything already. But, he doesn’t. Thank god for that.

“Have you seen Chae?”

“No, why? Wasn’t she with you?” Yeosang sighs. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“I— we kissed. I just need to talk to her.”

“You did what?!”

“It was an accident.” Yeosang looks at Jongho before he sees Chaerin leave the women’s bathroom from over his shoulder. “There she is.” He says before brushing past Jongho quickly, catching up to Chaerin just as she tries to dip out of the main room and down the steps to the lobby.

“Wait, wait.” Yeosang chases after her and gently tugs on her wrist. “Chae, let’s talk.”

“Yeo, it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about anything.”

“Yes, we do. You’re still one of my bestfriends, I don’t want this to ruin our relationship—”

“It won’t, it’s fine.” She says, even though deep down, Yeosang knows it’s not. But, what can he say? What can he do? He literally can’t move on from you and that’s unfair to her.

“Chaerin.” He looks at her as they stay paused on the steps, people passing back and forth going from outside back into the party and vice versa.

“Yeosang. I’m serious. It’s fine. I don’t know what go into me, it’s my mistake. We can just act like this never happened. I get it, all is fine.” She repeats.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe for giving her false hope? He didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, he thinks. He’s certainly not sorry about you despite the rough circumstances. It will always be you.

God, today was so fucked up.

“Me too.” Is all she says. He knows this will definitely change things from here on out, but he’s hoping over time, they can continue to be the way they used to be. She lays a reassuring hand on his arm before giving it a gentle squeeze, wanting to move past this just for tonight. Chaerin’s already embarrassed by her actions enough, she doesn’t wanna dwell on it any further. Fuck.

“Excuse me—” Jeongin says, absentmindedly brushing past Yeosang and Chaerin on the steps since he’s more concerned about getting past the crowd in one piece.

“Sorry.” Yeosang steps aside and grabs Chaerin’s hand. “Come on, come back inside with me, please?” She nods, following Yeosang’s lead back into the main room. They find Wooyoung and Jongho at the bar, and Jongho gives him a look that asks if everything is okay. Yeosang simply gives him a tiny, toothless smile, allowing Wooyoung to order more drinks for them to keep the night alive.

Another drink turns into a couple. Yeosang always finds himself drinking more than usual around Wooyoung and Jongho, trying to keep up with their antics. Most of the time, he can. Tonight though, he knows he’s overdoing it and should’ve stopped a whole three drinks ago. He’s dancing away on the dance floor with his friends, Chaerin in and out of the group to hang out with her other friends from another department; most likely her way of trying to distract herself and distance herself from Yeosang tonight. He can’t help but look for her in the crowd every now and then, hoping she’s okay. Other times, he finds himself dancing along with other people from the company, mixing along with the crowd as it continues to mesh into one huge crowd the more people pile into the room. Yeosang eventually has to find the guys again, finding that they’ve separated into different corners of the room. He finds Wooyoung first, bobbing and weaving through people in order to get to his bestfriend when he realizes it’s time for another break. Bathroom break, especially.

“Yo, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Yeo lets Wooyoung know before struggling to move past the rest of the crowd and into the bathroom. Thankfully, he makes it in time to break the seal and splash a little water on his face— cheeks flushed, palms sweaty. He’s drunk, and for a minute, he was enjoying himself. Now, he’s drunk and he’s missing you. He splashes a bit more water on his face before he’s dabbing a paper towel across it and tossing the crumpled napkin into the trash. He takes a detour and heads down the steps to get some fresh air, feeling slightly suffocated from the packed room, the loud ass music. His thoughts of you.

The cold air feels amazing against his skin, and it’s helping him feel a little more grounded than he felt a few moments ago. He pulls out his phone and sees a missed call from an unknown number, and for some reason, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the gut. And truthfully, you didn’t mean to press call. You did not mean for that call to go through whatsoever. Your phone had slipped and almost hit you in the face while you laid on your bed, thumbs pressing all sorts of shit just to keep it stable in your hands again. Next thing you knew, the call was going through. You ended the call as quickly as possible, but you knew it was too late. Yeo would’ve seen it by that point. He knows, he knows, he knows.

The first thing Yeo does is press the number and call you back. You gasp when you see his number appear on your screen, heart damn near beating out of your chest when you hit accept— pressing the phone to your ear even though you say nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Y/N?” You hear Yeosang’s voice on the other line. You place a hand over your mouth when you feel the tears already building on your bottom lid, unsure of why you even picked up in the first place when you knew it’d lead you right where you’re at now. “Y/N, I know it’s you.” He sighs. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I need you to talk to me at some point. I’m still waiting for you.” Silence. Yeosang is drunk, and his emotions are getting the best of him, especially when he follows up with: “Y/N, baby.” You quickly end the call and sit up, your cries completely washing over your entire body. You cry and cry into your hands, cursing yourself for letting this shit happen. Why did you have to make it so complicated? Why couldn’t you just tell him you missed him right then and there? Why couldn’t you just say anything?

Yeosang pulls the phone away and looks at the home screen, navigating back to your new number on his call log. He presses the phone to his ear as he paces near the venue entrance, hoping you’ll pick up again. It rings before the call is denied and sent to voicemail. He calls again, and it goes to voicemail. Again, then voicemail.

“Y/N.” He groans under his breath. “Fuck.” Now, all Yeo wants to do is go home. All he’s set on is going home. Fuck this. Fuck the party, fuck everything that happened tonight. He can’t even come home to you, and that’s what’s fucking him up completely.

“About time?! What happened to you, did you yack?” Wooyoung looks at Yeo in the eyes, trying to find any signs of an apparent struggle. Yeo shakes his head to confirm it wasn’t that, nor does he explain himself further.

“I’m about to head home.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me come with—” Wooyoung can tell something isn’t right, and he wants to be there for his bestfriend.

“No. Just stay. Promise I’m all good, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m just tired.”

“Uh, alright then. Text me when you get home. Don’t forget.”

“Got you.” Yeosang gives him the usual dap before he’s saying his goodbye to Jongho. He tries to search the room for Chaerin, but can’t find her— ultimately opting to see her next week at work and give her space tonight. He darts back down the steps and hops into the next taxi that becomes available on the street.

Thank god it isn’t a far drive, or else, he’d hate to sit in this akward taxi drive in complete silence. Just him and his loud ass thoughts, actually. He contemplates on dialing your number again, but with the three attempts and no return calls coming his way, it’s obvious you mistakenly called him. The call didn’t mean anything, he didn’t mean anything. You wanted nothing to do with him and who is he to fight that? Who is he to force you to feel a certain way?

Oh, if he only knew what truly went on in your head.

Yeosang thanks the driver and gives him a hefty tip in cash, specifically for letting him take a quiet ride home— giving him the opportunity to ponder on what his next move with you is going to be. That entire time, he comes up with nothing. He will absolutely do nothing. He will do nothing because now that he’s tried to tell you where he was at in all of this, now that he’s reminded you that he’s still here— he needs to know if you’re still here, too. He needs to know if you still need to talk to him, still want him, still want to kiss and hold him like he does. He needs to know, and the only way he’ll get the proper answer is by letting you make the next move. Letting you take initiative. He shouldn’t have to. He wasn’t the one that ran away.

He still hates everything, though. It’s easy to stay mad and be mad that you don’t even realize how much energy is draining from you thinking about the current situation and all its different avenues, it feels frustrating. It’s annoyingly frustrating, and so far, it feels like none of the avenues lead him back to you.

So, he needs to know. From you directly.

He takes a quick shower and hops into bed, still staring at his call log. He doesn’t do anything besides stare at it because any other way doesn’t feel safe enough for him. He hopes after this, the universe can send him another sign that’ll show him the way to you, how to get back with you, things to fix on himself before he comes and tries to sweep you off your feet again. He’s still determined to be that guy for you, if you’d let him. He’s just not sure what this means for you, and it makes him sad.

He needs you to let him know. Soon.

You stare at the three missed calls on your phone from Yeosang. The last one has a voicemail he probably didn’t intend to leave because you hear him groan your name in frustration before it cuts off. You replay the message once more before you toss your phone to the side and start getting ready to take a small walk around the neighborhood, grab some coffee and a pastry from a nearby café. The fresh air will do you good, and it will help put you in the right place mentally before your interviews coming up. You were able to lock in three interviews; one at a small, private vet, one at a bigger veterinary hospital downtown and one at the aquarium. Either way, you were excited to finally get started on your dream, your own path. You’d take whatever route life paved for you because at the end of it, it’ll only lead you to more doors, more opportunities.

While sitting at the café, you snap a few pictures of the interior and how pretty it is. You also snap a few pictures of the alleyway and a few passerbyers, wondering what each person’s story is like. If Yeosang were here, you’re sure he’d make you pose in the middle of the alley, or snap random photos of you while sitting in front of him. The thought makes you smile a bit, causing you to shift in your seat. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, wondering how you could break the ice and finally talk to Yeosang about everything because it’s something that’s constantly on your mind despite all the running and the empty calls. Each day that passes makes you more and more ready to face him, to tell him the truth. It has taken baby steps, but you know you’ll make it to the end. You know you’ll face him regardless of how hard it’ll get, you know you’ll apologize and tell him how much you still love him regardless of how he takes it. And then after all is said and done, maybe that’ll be it for the two of you. You hope not, but what if?

What if that’s where the story ends?

You end up walking into a few stores after sitting in the café, treating yourself to a few new pieces of clothes you could wear to the interview. It feels nice to do a little more retail therapy, your me-time turning into something you desperately needed without even realizing. You head home with a smile on your face, satisfied with the purchases you’ve made. You try on different outfits when you get home, tossing your clothes all over the place once you’re satisfied with some of the combinations you’ve tried on.

“Ayo! Got you some food.” Jeongin yells while walking into your place.

“Oh, shoot! Time already?” You look at the clock before shooting him a smile. “Thanks, Innie.” You watch him pop off his shoes before rearranging your clothes in your closet. “I’ll be there in a second, just cleaning and getting my stuff together.” Jeongin puts the bag of food down on the table, taking a seat while he patiently waits. He texts his friends back before looking around on the table, eyeing the random papers and pictures sitting off to the side. He grabs at the photos out of curiosity, flipping through them and not thinking much of it. “Ugh, where is it!” He hears you suddenly groan as you continue to sort through your stuff, head deep in your closet this time.

“What is it?”

“My license and passport.”

“Where did you last put it?” He asks as he goes through the fun, candid pictures of you and your friends from town.

“In my other purse, but it’s not here.” A small smile is painted on his face as he sees how happy you are with everyone. But then, he finds himself stopping when he sees pictures of you and the visitor. His forehead crinkles because he knows this man. He’s seen— “I found it!” You say with a squeal, tucking your ID and passport into your usual day-to-day bag. You don’t hear anything from Jeongin, so you turn to face him and realize he’s going through the pictures you left on the table. You slowly approach him and notice the photo he’s fixed on, your first instinct to snatch them out of his hands and store it back into the nightstand drawer. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to leave these here.”

“Oh, no biggie.” He watches as you continue to fix the photos and papers back into your nightstand drawer, avoiding eye contact with him. “A-are those your friends, Y/N?” You hear him ask as you stop on one of the pictures of you and Yeosang.

“Yeah.” You nod, throat feeling like it’s closing in on you. “Those are my friends.”

“Is that him?” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You shut the drawer before letting out a breath and keeping your composure. “Anyway, what’d you bring?” You smile at him and sit in front of him. “I wanna hear all about the dance.” Jeongin looks at you with concern when you quickly change the subject, unpacking the bag and laying out the food on the surface of the table. “Yum! Bulgogi!”

“Uh, it was good!” He manages to spit out, trying to keep up with the conversation even though his mind is stuck on that picture. You grab a few small plates and utensils, placing it in front of Jeongin and your own seat at the table.

“Did you get to dance with her?”

“Oh my god.” Jeongin says, shaking his head as he begins to pick at the side dishes first. “That definitely wasn’t the vibe last night.”

“What do you mean, it was a party, no?”

“It was. There was an open bar and appetizers. There was a dance floor and everything, but like, you know. Everyone kept it PG and professional even though it was crowded as hell. Music was good, too!”

“I mean, you can dance with her professionally and stuff.” You smirk.

“We did, with our other coworkers.”

“Did you get to talk and get to know her a bit more?” He nods.

“I did. She’s really cute.” He lets out a small laugh.

“Aw, yay!”

“I had fun. It was cool for a work party.”

“What time did you get home?”

“Hm, a bit past 2am. It ended at 11, then we all went out to eat. Karaoke. Then, that was about it.”

“That sounds fun, Innie. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“What’d you do last night and earlier today?”

“I hung out with Ryu. She actually came over and we watched movies over some ice cream. Earlier, I just took a walk and sat at a café for a bit before doing some shopping. Tried to get myself into a good space for the interviews coming up.”

“Oh, yeah! When is that? Next week?” You nod.

“Yup.”

“You got this! You’ll get all of them, no doubt. Just a matter of what you’ll wanna do in the end.”

“Thanks, Innie.”

“Have you talked to your friends from town?” He suddenly asks and you shrug.

“I talked to one of them, but I haven’t talked to the others yet. I will, once I’ve gotten these interviews done with.”

“Hm.” He hums. “That’s good, at least you talked to one of them. I just didn’t want them to worry about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to talk to the rest of them, don’t worry.”

“Mmkay.” Jeongin forces himself to stop asking questions, especially about the other pictures. He can tell you’re getting affected with the way you’re slowly shutting down and avoiding contact again. Sentences are cut short. You’re almost mumbling your words.

He’ll take it as a sign to stop pressing further, especially because he wants you to be okay for your interviews coming up.

The rest of the late lunch goes by without more digging from Jeongin’s end. He decides to talk more about the party and about his coworkers. He tells you how he gets along with his team members, and how patient his seniors are with him. He appreciates it and he hopes he can be offered a permanent position there. If not, he hopes he can find another company with similar vibes: great values, easy going and patient team members, yet incredibly smart and good at what they do. He’s been learning a lot and it’s easy to tell that Jeongin has been enjoying his time there. Then, he touches up on the topic of his parents and how they had been questioning why he had been going out so much lately. You reassure him and tell him that you plan to talk to your parents, assuming all goes well with your interviews. This time though, you plan to work through it slowly, keep your distance if they aren’t being receptive. Just for your own sake. They’re your parents and you know one day you’ll be able to fully forgive them for the things they’ve said and done— but since they’re your parents, you know you’ll always love them even if it has to be from afar.

This time, you plan to keep doing things for you.

After spending a good couple of hours together, Jeongin calls it a day and leaves to rest for the remainder of the day. He tugs his hood over his head and clings onto his shoulder bag, making his way back home from your place. He’s confused, and he’s honestly in a bit of shock still. Jeongin can’t get the picture out of his head. It’s mindblowing how pieces to the puzzle just fall onto his lap, and now, he feels like he can be of better help to you. Even though you were quick to snatch the photo away, Innie was able to get a good look at it. He knows who that guy is. He knows exactly where he’s seen him, and it’s crazy that the answer has been right in front of him this entire time.

❊ FLASHBACK

The first day Yeosang steps back into the office, he’s greeted by a couple of people that are happy to have him back. Everyone compliments on the glow he’s sporting and how happy and refreshed he seems to be. He can’t help but shyly laugh about it, a red tint coloring his cheeks when he tells them he’s had a good time and that he might’ve met someone really special there. He sets his things down onto his desk, fixing up a few things before he heads towards the kitchen with his mug in hand. There are a few interns sitting in one of the main conference rooms, and Yeosang is able to get a good look at them on his way to the kitchen. They all look fairly young, as if they had just graduated. One sits at the far corner in a loose grey button up shirt tucked into his slacks, black frames sitting on his face. He gives Yeosang a tight-lipped smile when they accidentally make contact, making Yeosang give him a curt nod in response.

“Hella interns.” Wooyoung throws his arm around Yeosang as they continue to walk to the kitchen.

“Do we have one?”

“No. I think most of them are in R&D. Operations. A select few in marketing and media.”

❊ END

When Jeongin wakes up on Monday morning, he makes it a goal to get to work a little earlier so he can prepare and step in to be some kind of hero— how he’s gonna pull it off, he’s not sure. He fixes a few things at his cubicle before he heads back upstairs to the main kitchen, where the coffee maker is always stocked and running. To his surprise, Yeosang is already there, waiting for his cup to be filled. Jeongin slowly treads into the kitchen, the feeling in his gut about Yeosang being confirmed when he sees his phone face down on the counter next to the coffee machine.

Sitting on the back is a polaroid of you, smiling happily and posing near the water.

“Uh, hi.” Jeongin steps a little closer, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat. It’s just the fact that Yeosang was his senior that he already felt intimidated but he knew he needed to speak up before it was too late.

“Goodmorning?” Yeosang cocks a brow up. He’s familiar with the intern, and he doesn’t mean to come off as rude or anything. He’s just not sure what he needs from him. Can’t wait to get his coffee? Unsure how to work the coffee machine? They end up in an awkward staring competition until Jeongin clears his throat.

“Sorry. I’m Jeongin.” He holds out his hand for Yeosang to shake, and he takes it.

“Yeosang.”

“I— this might sound really weird, but I know the girl on your phone.” He pauses. “She’s my cousin. I dunno if she ever told you my name, but we’ve spoken on the phone a few times while you were there. She calls me Innie.” Yeosang furrows his brows as he slowly removes his cup from the coffee machine and grabs his phone, eyes glued onto Jeongin. He can tell Jeongin feels bad for him, almost like he pities him. He feels like everyone pities him at this point. Shit is sad. But, before he can deny anything about you, Jeongin follows up with a: “I know where she is and I wanna help.” Yeosang almost drops his cup of coffee. This can’t be real.

“I appreciate it, but it’s pretty clear your cousin doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Jeongin shakes his head.

“It’s not that, it’s—” He sighs. “It’s just that she’s been through alot and she’s scared. I can explain. I know it probably doesn’t hold much weight coming from me and not her directly, but at least it’s a start.” Jeongin looks at him. “I just wanna help. I know she’s been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, but I’ve also caught her crying one too many times over this. I think it’s about time.” Yeosang turns to him, cup of coffee still in his hand. It’s crazy how much Jeongin reminds him of you already, he should’ve known there was something about him when he first saw him.— that something being you.

“What time do you usually take lunch?” Jeongin shrugs.

“Whenever.”

“Wanna meet me in the cafeteria at 12:30? We can talk more about it then.” Yeosang says just as he hears Wooyoung, Jongho and Chaerin making their way to the kitchen.

“Okay. See you later.”

“You’re alive, you piece of shit. I told you to text me when you got home and you didn’t even try to text me all weekend.” Wooyoung scolds Yeosang before shifting his attention to Jeongin. “Hello intern!”

“Hi.” Jeongin gives them all a small smile and a curt nod before grabbing his own cup of coffee and rushing out of the room.

“I forgot, sorry.” Yeo responds to Woo. “I was out of it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What were you and the intern talking about?” Jongho asks, popping his mug under the coffee machine. “Did he not know how to work the coffee machine?”

“Uh, no.” Yeosang traces the rim of his cup while his friends rummage around the kitchen. “That was Y/N’s cousin.” Wooyoung chokes on his americano.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“That was her cousin.” Yeosang repeats.

“So, what happened?”

“He said he knew where she was.” Yeosang shrugs. “I’m gonna talk to him at lunch.”

“Bro, you’ll finally find her!” Jongho smiles, but all he can do is shake his head in response.

“Doesn’t mean she wants to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m sure she wants to explain everything.”

“Why hasn’t she then?”

“Let him help. He might be able to push you two back together, and she may just need that.”

“Yeah.” Is all Yeosang says. He turns to Chaerin, who is quietly stirring the sugar and cream in her coffee. She hasn’t said one word to him, nor has she even looked at him since she stepped into the room. Yeosang gently nudges her and gives her a smile, but she can still barely hold contact with him. “Goodmorning. You okay?”

“Yup!” Is all she says. “Glad Y/N’s cousin was able to find you and talk to you a bit. Hope it works out.” She gives him the tiniest toothless smile she’s ever given anybody, and Yeo knows she’s really only doing it to brush him off and get him off of her case. “Anyway, I have a ton of work to catch up on. See you guys later?” She rushes out.

“I thought you two were okay.”

“I thought we were, too.”

“Why is she being weird around you?” Wooyoung cocks a brow up. “Did you guys kiss or something?” Jongho sips his coffee while Yeosang diverts his attention to his watch.

“I gotta get started on those emails—”

“I was literally just joking. Hurry, someone tell me it’s a joke.”

“Let’s go.” Jongho squeezes his shoulder and pushes Wooyoung out of the kitchen. “Stories for other days.”

“You two fucking kissed?!”

“Shut up.” Yeosang says through gritted teeth as he looks behind him and glares at Wooyoung. “This is why I can’t tell you shit sometimes.”

“Oh my god, when?! At the party?”

“I’m not doing this right now. It was an accident.” Yeosang mumbles as he sets himself down at his desk and begins to pull up his emails.

“The hell it was.” Wooyoung snorts.

“Leave it alone.” Jongho laughs, pushing Wooyoung aside. “He’s got enough to deal with.”

“So? He’s also a grown ass man who can handle it. Right, boss?” Wooyoung leans over to Yeosang and winks. “I expect a full page report by end of the day.”

“Fuck off.” He shoves Wooyoung out of the way and begins to focus on his work. Though, it’s pretty hard when he’s constantly checking the clock and waiting for 12:30pm to come around. He manages to pull through and surprisingly multitask— trying to figure out the questions he has for Jeongin, while also trying to collect his thoughts about this whole thing. There’s no doubt the conversation will be awkward, but the last thing Yeosang wants is for Jeongin to feel like he’s attacking you and angry.

He is angry, but he’s trying to find ways to suppress the feeling and instead, be understanding. Open-minded. Patient.

When 12:30pm hits, Yeosang bids farewell to his friends that head across the street to grab lunch at the restaurant in front of the building. He grabs some soup and a side of salad, setting his stuff down at a table near the far corner of the cafeteria. Jeongin is equally nervous as he is scared because he’s not sure how this whole thing is gonna go down. He hopes the plan won’t backfire and Yeosang doesn’t blow up at him in front of everybody here. He grabs his helping of food before he pauses in his steps and searches the room for a familiar face. He sees Yeosang sitting at a table, only to be met with a small wave when Yeosang meets his eyes.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” Yeosang looks at him before letting out a small chuckle.

“Nah. It’s no big deal.” Jeongin sips on his water before laying his phone out. Yeosang sees his wallpaper and it’s you two with other family members, posing during Christmas time. He assumes it was years ago when you were still around for family parties. You both have on matching pajamas and silly Christmas hats or glasses. “Had I known it was you she was talking about, I would’ve reached out sooner.”

“How’d you find out?”

“I went to her place the other day and saw some pictures of you two scattered across her table. I flipped through most before she took them and hid them in her drawer.”

“Glad to know she at least still has the pictures.”

“She does. She’s not gonna toss those.” Jeongin takes a bite of his food. “I didn’t mean to be nosy earlier, by the way. I was already questioning myself until I saw the photo on your phone. Kinda helped.”

“It’s all good.” Yeosang sips his soup. “Is she safe?”

“She is. She’s here.” Yeosang pauses before he sets his spoon down completely. So, he wasn’t hallucinating when he ran into you that one day. It was you. “She has her own place and everything. She’s been here for about a few weeks.”

“How many weeks exactly?”

“I dunno, 4? A month, I guess?”

“We were supposed to meet at the end of last month.” Jeongin cocks a brow up.

“She never showed up?”

“No.”

“Hm.” Jeongin hums. “Pretty sure she was already here by then.”

“I don’t know if that makes it any better for me knowing she was.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeongin slightly pouts. “She’s.. she’s been through a lot. I know it’s not an excuse, especially one I can say on her behalf, but she does this. I’m trying really hard to help her so she doesn’t keep running from her problems and everything. I just think she’s gotten so used to doing it that it has become the safest option for her.”

“I understand. Do you mind telling me more about it?”

“She was engaged. She gave her ex everything, and I mean everything. She isolated us just to keep him happy, did everything for him, always stood by his side even though he gaslighted and manipulated her. He really wasn’t good for her.” Jeongin rolls his eyes, still angry at your ex for the way he treated you. “They fought more after they got engaged and he pretty much took everything back. Found out he was having an affair behind her back for months. It was his dumb way of saying their relationship ran its course and that he didn’t wanna do this with her anymore.” Yeosang feels his hand balling into a fist hearing about how incredibly disrespectful your ex was and how fucked up the whole thing turned out to be. Still, it doesn’t excuse the behavior and he wishes you didn’t look at him as someone who would hurt you, too. He would never. He genuinely loves you and would take care of you properly— should you let him. That’s all he wants. “And then on top of that, her parents were pretty harsh on her. All they kept doing was pushing her to be something she wasn’t. The more she refused, the more they treated her like shit. Her dad kept saying she was useless and that he didn’t think he’d have to deal with a daughter who didn’t have purpose.” Yeosang shakes his head. “It all happened around the same time. She wouldn’t stop crying and crying.” Jeongin shakes his head and pokes at his food. “She was so destroyed. She felt like all the people she loved were constantly telling her and showing her that she wasn’t good enough or that she wasn’t worth it. That she didn’t have a purpose. No one wanted to be with her or stick by her side because she was nothing.”

“Not to me.” Yeosang mutters.

“I know.” Jeongin looks at him. “I know you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“How, though? We barely met a few hours ago.” Yeosang smiles a bit.

“I just do. She’s kept all your pictures, I know she keeps checking her phone even though she got a new number and everything. She thinks about you a lot, and it’s obvious. I’ve seen her cry because she was hurt, but now I see her cry because she misses you and she’s not sure how to explain herself to you.” Jeongin tilts his head. “Do you still wanna be with her? I’ll keep this between us. I know time has passed and the way everything happened was so abrupt.”

“Of course I do. There’s nothing more that I want than to be with her. I’ve just been trying to be patient. I’ve been trying to wait and give her the space she needs because I respect her and care about her more than anyone knows. But, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” The moment the statement slips from Yeosang’s lips, his heart falls to his stomach. He’s tired of waiting, and even though he doesn’t want this to end, he’s not sure what he’s waiting for anymore. Especially after the call. He just needs to see you. “She accidentally called me the other night during the party. I called her back and she picked up but she didn’t say anything on the other line. I told her she didn’t have to respond, but I needed her to know I was still here for her. Then, she just hung up.” Jeongin sighs.

“Can you meet her tonight? I’m sorry if that’s soon. I think it’s time.”

“How is that even gonna work? If she knows I’m there, she won’t see me.”

“She will. She doesn’t have to know. I can tell her I’m coming by for dinner and you can be there instead of me. Like, 6pm?” Yeosang nods. Jeongin grabs his phone and starts pulling up your text thread, immediately typing away.

“Wait, are you sure about this?”

“Mhm.” Is all he says as he sends the text. He shoves the phone towards Yeosang’s way, letting him see your response as it comes up on the screen.

[jeongin]: dinner tonight?

[you]: sure!

[jeongin]: i’ll swing by after i’m off. probably 6ish.

“She’s gonna be pissed at you.” Yeosang says and Jeongin shrugs.

“She won’t. It’ll be all good. Trust me on this. You two really need to talk.”

“Thanks. For this.”

“No need to thank me, seriously. I hope it helps. I just—“ Jeongin sighs. “I want her to be happy. I need her to know she deserves this happiness, too.”

“I want her to be happy, too. Whether that’s with me or not.”

“You know, when she used to call me back while she was in town, she used to sound so giddy and happy. Found out it was because of you being around. It made me happy hearing her talk the way she was talking. Always so excited to get on with her day and see you.” Yeosang gives him a tiny smile before doing a slight head tilt.

“Wait, so. She never told you my name or anything?”

“Nope. I don’t even know the names of her friends. Well, I guess, your friends now, too.” Jeongin looks up as if deep in thought before shaking it off and continuing to eat. “I don’t think she was trying to hide you or anything. I think she wanted to keep her two lives separate. I’m not sure why.”

“It’s alright.” Yeosang hopes he’ll hear the explanation from you directly, no matter how long it takes. He won’t push you to say it, but he hopes— he hopes you’ll take the initiative to tell him why.

“I’ll send you her address and the door code.” Jeongin slides his phone back over to Yeosang for him to put his number in. As soon as Yeosang hands it back, Jeongin sends him the address as promised. When Yeosang reads the preview on his phone, he almost lets out a hefty audible sigh at how close your new place is to his.

“She lives near me.” Yeosang says with a pathetic chuckle. He isn’t directing it to Jeongin, more so voicing his disappointment at how close you were. Yet, he wasn’t able to catch you once. Yet, you felt so incredibly distant, as if miles and miles were in between. “She’s been around this entire time and I didn’t even know she was that close.”

“I’m sorry. I really hope this fixes things. Or, is at least the start.”

“I appreciate it. A lot.”

“Well, you can always text or call me for anything now that you have my number. I’m here to help as much as I can.” Yeosang nods, watching as Jeongin finishes his food and sips the last of his water. “I gotta head back into the lab. Thanks again for taking your lunch with me.”

“Same to you.” Jeongin waves just as he stands to throw away his trash and heads back to his work. Yeosang, however, takes a moment to sit and sort through his thoughts; navigating through every scenario he can think of for tonight’s encounter. He wasn’t planning on doing this so soon, but he’s glad he has the opportunity to. He just wants to see you, even though he knows this will hurt. Even though he knows this won’t start off easy. He turns when he hears rain starting to pound against the window, wondering if the sudden downpour has some sort of hidden meaning, some kind of symbolism he should pay attention to behind everything happening.

He watches the rain and wonders if you’re okay. If you’re safe and dry. If you wore a jacket even though you despise wearing one so much because it ‘ruins your outfit.’

Time moves painfully slow, especially during the last few minutes of the workday. Yeosang has tried to keep himself busy as much as possible, even offering to take some tasks off of his coworker’s plate just to continue distracting himself. As soon as it’s time for Yeo to clock out, he bids farewell to his friends and speeds out of the building. The rain is still steadily pouring and he hates that he has to drive in this because it means there’s more traffic on the road that he’ll have to sit through. For once, he wishes he was wrong, because now, not only does he have to sit in traffic, but he has to sit in traffic alone with his thoughts. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, though; the more he sits with his thoughts, the more he’s able to accept that whatever happens tonight is meant to happen.

Damn.

When he finally hops off the congested highway and exits onto a familiar street, he navigates through the roads before pulling into a small alley. It’s literally about ten minutes on the opposite end from where he lives, and if he wanted to, he could make this walk on a good day. The street you live on is quite narrow that he’s having to park behind a few cars up and walk down to the gate that leads to the entrance of the main house. He plugs in the code Jeongin sent him and steps in, following his direction of walking towards the side of the house to a door near the back corner. He can hear your soft music playing through the window and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat because it’s unreal he’s about to face you again after all this time.

Knock, knock, knock.

“It’s about time, I—” You tilt your head in confusion, suddenly feeling queasy when you don’t see Jeongin at your door and instead, you find Yeosang. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his face. The damp hair strands sticking to his forehead from the rain. His damp button-up, raindrops painting a pattern across his shoulders. His deep brown eyes, long lashes. He’s the only true definition of love you’ve ever known, and he’s standing in front of you again after weeks have gone by. “Yeosang. W-what are you doing here?”

“Your cousin.” He places his hand on the door, hoping you won’t shut it close on his face. He really needs this right now— you both really need this right now. “I think we need to talk.” You’re not able to form any responses, so all you can do is quietly step aside to let him in. He steps out of his shoes and looks around your in-law. It’s awfully similar to your place back in town, and a wave of nostalgia hits him even though he’s here with you. Things just don’t feel the same though, and he hates it.

“How do you know my cousin?”

“We work together.” He looks at you when you finally come to his side and tuck your arms close to your chest.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to say. “You can leave your jacket on the chair. Do you need water—”

“Y/N.” He calls you firmly. “Stop.”

“Yeosang, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” It’s the best thing you can come up with because you truly weren’t prepared for Yeosang to show up on your doorstep. It should be easy because it’s him. But at the same time, it’s difficult because it’s him.

“Why don’t you start by telling me why?”

“I’m sorry—”

“I waited for you. You told me you’d be there and you weren’t. You were here the whole time and you didn’t even try to come see me?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.” He says, stepping closer. “How am I supposed to understand when you won’t even explain what’s going on?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared about what?” He has this look on his face and it screams every fear you’ve had, especially about your relationship. You know this is fully your own thoughts trying to ruin you, to become your downfall— but, still, you hate the way he looks at you and all you’re itching to do is run. “Y/N, I’m trying to understand. Tell me.” His voice is soft, calming. He can pick up on the feelings your exuding, the fear, the anxiety, and that’s not what he came here for. He came here to see you, to understand you, to listen.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“I was afraid you’d realize this wasn’t what you wanted. I mean, I’m all sorts of messed up. Full of baggage and insecurities. You’ll get tired and you’ll realize I’m not worth—”

“Woah, stop.” Yeosang shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to stop you right there. When have I ever showed you this is how I felt about you? Because it’s the complete opposite. I don’t care about all that because I wanna work through it with you. Not once did I ever think any of this wasn’t worth it, even until now.”

“You say that now!”

“I say that now and I’ll say it later, too!” Yeosang matches your tone. “Why would I do all of this if I wasn’t serious about you? I’d go through all of this with you—”

“I didn’t wanna put you through it because you deserve better—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Y/N!” Yeosang’s tone rises, and you almost flinch at how [understandably] angry he is right now. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat causing his jaw to tick. “Why would you assume that about me? About us? Because you’ve been fucked up and damaged in the past? Aren’t we all fucking jaded in one way or another? Why would you compare me to him?”

“I’m sorry.” Your response falls to a whisper as you break into a sob. Yeosang is having to look away with his jaw clenched because he’s angry. He’s livid. But, he hates seeing you cry and he can’t stand it. “I got scared. I didn’t know if I’d be good enough for you.”

“You are always going to be more than enough.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I should apologize for your ex’s shitty actions as much as I want to. I know he hurt you and that was fucked up of him to do. I’m sorry it still hurts you. But, I’m not him, Y/N. I will never be. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like I would hurt you or make you feel like you were temporary to me. That’s hurtful. Everything you pulled—” His jaw ticks as he pauses and paces around the room, hand placed on his hip. “You have no fucking idea how hard it was. Not even just for me, but for your friends, too. Why? Why would you just leave? Why would you just leave me?”

❊ FLASHBACK

Yeosang lets out a deep sigh as soon as he parks his car. His body feels incredibly heavy, and he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He’s sad, and it’s an indescribable type of sadness. He’s never been here before, and quite frankly, he doesn’t know how to navigate this.

He plops onto his couch, feeling incredibly defeated after waiting, and waiting. And waiting. His anxiety is through the roof when he calls your number over and over again, even though he knows where it’ll lead him— an automated bot telling him the number’s no longer in service. He’s tried everything and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should leave and search all over town for you, he doesn’t know if he should sleep this off and hope he’ll see a message from you in the morning.

He doesn’t know.

He grabs a coaster from his coffee table and tosses it against the wall out of frustration, digging his head into his hands when he can’t help but cry. He should’ve known this would happen. He should’ve known there was a chance you’d leave.

But he didn’t, and now he’s fucking hurt because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, and god, is it the most painful thing to dwell on right now.

He just doesn’t know.

❊ END

“All I ever wanted to do was take care of you and love you the way you deserved to be loved. If you didn’t wanna do this, you could’ve just said so.” Yeosang says softly. “We both didn’t have to go through this if you had just been honest.”

“Yeosang, it’s not that, I just—” But, you’re sorry because you didn’t mean to fuck this up entirely. You’re sorry because you probably lost the one person who genuinely cared and loved you for you. You’re sorry because you wish you knew better and you wish you had a better explanation. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think we both just need more time right now. More space. Maybe it’ll help you figure out what you really want.” He says softly, thumb coming to your cheek to wipe your tears away. As much as he hates leaving you like this, the both of you know it’s the best move. You’ll continue to cry and apologize, and Yeosang will succumb to everything. He’ll always be there for you, but at this point, he is no longer in control of the situation and needs you to come to him when you’re ready. You will need to realize on your own that he is with you, not against you. You will need to realize he is someone you can trust, someone who loves you more than words can explain. He’ll wait— he always has and he will.

“Don’t leave.” It’s so selfish of you to ask when you’ve done the complete opposite to him, but you can’t help it now that he’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around him and he holds you close, lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head to try and calm you down.

“I’m not. But, I can’t do this alone, Y/N.” Is all he says and it’s enough to show you just how much this means to Yeosang— how much you mean to him and what he needs from you. Because he’s right, he can’t do this alone. It isn’t a one-way street. As much as Yeosang is willing to be there for you, he’s not the one who has to make the change— you are.

He holds you for a good, long minute before he’s the first to break. He tilts your chin up gently, giving you a soft, sympathetic look because he hopes you understand him. Just as he does with you. He places another kiss on your forehead before he quietly steps into his shoes and leaves. The next thing you know, you’ve fallen to the ground, unable to control the sobs that come next. Even though he reassured you he wasn’t leaving, the entire thing felt completely unsalvageable. Like you lost a part of you, like this couldn’t be fixed.

“I can explain.” Jeongin immediately says when he picks up the phone, but he’s only greeted by your sobs and uncontrollable breathing.

“Please come, Innie.”

“On my way.” He quickly ends the call and leaves the shop he had been lingering around in. He knew he needed to stay alert tonight, and he knew he needed to stay close in case of whatever happened. Although you had been crying, he really hopes something good at

least came out of this— whether that meant starting over or giving each other time to breathe. He hopes it wasn’t too bad, but he has full faith in Yeosang. He would have only done what was best.

When Jeongin gets to your place, the door is still unlocked and you haven’t moved from your position on the floor near your tiny couch. You’ve got your knees tucked to your chest, head resting down on your knees; small cries muffled from the way you’re positioned. He doesn’t say anything when he throws his arms around you and keeps you close, letting you cry onto him until you’ve released everything you needed to release.

“What happened?”

“He left. He said we needed time.”

“I think you two do. You need to be honest about what you want, Y/N.”

“I just want him.”

“Then, why did you leave in the first place? Why did you try so hard to keep your two lives separate?” Jeongin asks.

“Because, it felt safer that way.” You retort. “Going to town was my escape from this reality. This reality where everything hurt me— my parents, him. I didn’t wanna mesh the two because I need something, some place, that could be my escape. My peace.”

“You didn’t need to, though. Nothing would have changed because we care about you. We would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I get that you wanted to keep things on the low or keep it separate, but if you had asked for help, we would’ve been there. If you needed a push to get over everything, some reassurance, we all would have been there. We care enough to not let you get stuck in one place.” Jeongin sighs. “Maybe it’s time you stop running from everything, or thinking that everyone is out to hurt you. Because look— I’m here because I care. Your friends here care. Your friends over there worried about you.” He pauses. “Yeosang.”

“I know. I hurt him.” You cry and Jeongin holds you close, slowly rocking you back and forth. “I hurt him so badly. He won’t ever forgive me. He won’t come back, he won’t forgive me.” You go on and on and Jeongin has to shush you to get you to stop, to get you to force those thoughts away. Yeosang wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t. He knows where he lies and that’s with you, no matter how long it takes.

“He will.” Jeongin continues to hold you. “Stop running away, okay? This is enough.”

❊ 6 MONTHS LATER ..

“Longest journey ever.” Wooyoung says, stepping off of the train. “And look who decided to finally fucking show up? Our driver!”

“Not your fucking driver.” Yeosang rolls his eyes after parking the car by the curb and helping his friends.

“The weather’s perfect here.” Jongho snaps some photos while Yeosang throws their bags into the trunk of Jungkook’s car.

“Assuming Chae didn’t wanna come?”

“Yeah. And guess whose fault that is, heartbreaker?”

“Jongho, let’s go. I’m leaving his ass here so he can get back on the train—” Wooyoung yells as he hops in the passenger seat and laughs.

“I’m sorry! I’m kidding! She has some family stuff going on, but she said hi and told us she’d text you to relay her birthday message to Y/N.” Yeosang nods. He’s a bit sad knowing one of his bestfriends wouldn’t be here, but he understood. At least, tried to. Things never recovered well after the night of the work party. They tried to be as normal as possible, but there was always some sort of weird, awkward tension between the two that they were never able to move past. It’s sad seeing it go from how close they were to how distant they are now. But, Yeosang will always consider her as one of his good friends, and he’ll always be there for her should she need him for anything. That doesn’t change a thing for him. “Speaking of Y/N, where is she?”

“Probably already drunk at the restaurant because you two decided arriving fashionably late was the best way to go.”

“I had to get a haircut, you dick. I’m not coming here looking like a hot mess.” Wooyoung snaps.

“Ah, on her best birthday behavior, though. Atta girl.” Jongho chuckles. “Did Innie, Ryu, Bin and San get here already?” Wooyoung asks as if he’s known them for years. But, when your friends and Yeosang’s friends finally met, they clicked and got along easily. It didn’t take long for them to mesh together, and you were happy it turned out that way. There was some tension between you and Chaerin, but unintentionally. Yeosang had told you about the night of the party, and it didn’t bother you as much as it did Chaerin. You tried to talk to her and reassure her that things were okay and that you weren’t mad, yet you also tried to give her space knowing how she felt about Yeosang. It was difficult, and she came around less; but, you respected her and her space. You weren’t gonna force her if she didn’t feel comfortable being around you, Yeosang, or the both of you together.

“Yeah, last night. Been a full house.”

“Fun! Can’t wait.” Wooyoung smirks, causing Yeosang to give him a look and Jongho to smack him on the side of the head from behind the passenger seat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What! We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?”

“Fun like birthday party yoohoo let’s toss confetti and dance around kind of fun. Not tussle in the sheets and break headboards with the entire house listening kind of fun.” Jongho laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wooyoung smiles.

“Please don’t.”

“Can’t promise!” He laughs, making Yeosang let out a loud sigh as he drives off to the Jungkook’s uncle’s house that he so graciously offered for everyone to stay at while he was away traveling. Yeo is happy to be back in town with everyone he loves to celebrate you— his baby, his everything.

When Yeosang gets to the house, he gives Wooyoung and Jongho some time to get settled and change into better clothes for the beach party. Everyone is already gathered at the restaurant and on the beach, the DJ all set up with food ready to go. By the time he brings Jongho and Wooyoung over, people from town have already piled in; the loud music and talking echoing into the night sky. Jungkook is the first to greet them, followed by Keeho, Mingi, Mina, Ryujin, Bin and San. Innie is accompanying you on the karaoke machine, causing Yeosang to laugh seeing you two already tipsy and singing loudly together. Everything is loud, somewhat chaotic. It reminds Yeosang of the bonfire and movie night, and how he didn’t know how to act when you initially invited him.

He’s sure as hell glad he just went.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Gonna stop by the restaurant again tonight? There’s gonna be a bonfire and movie night event. We’ll be serving beer and all that good stuff.”

“Tonight?”

“The flyers are everywhere, silly.” You point at a flyer posted on the pole behind him. “Come, it’ll be fun.”

“Mm, I’ll think about it.” You cock your head to the side and slightly pout. “Sorry, it’s just not my thing. I..” Yeosang lets out a breath as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I probably sound really lame. But, lots of people. Noise. Gets kinda overwhelming.” He shrugs.

“I understand.” You give him a tiny toothless smile. “That’s okay! I promise it won’t be too crazy, and it’s pretty chill. But, totally up to you.”

“Thanks for extending the invite.” You nod. “Any more water to carry in?” You laugh.

“Nope! Thank you again. See you around?” Yeosang nods, watching as you step into the restaurant and start helping the middle-aged lady inside despite her playful efforts of shoo’ing you away. Yeosang shifts his gaze to his two feet, kicking at the rocks beneath them before walking down the path to the grocery store. He’s kinda cursing himself for sounding so fucking lame in front of you. Lots of people? Noise? What was he thinking? It wasn’t necessarily a lie, though— he actually doesn’t like to be in crowded places for long, doesn’t really like to party or do bonfires, socialize for long periods of time with people he doesn’t know well. Is the type of person to join a team dinner for the free food but will be gone in the next hour or so. Will join a work party because he feels obligated to show face for at least an hour before rushing home to get in bed. But, he’s cursing himself because he is on vacation, exploring new territory and breathing in new scenery. He should have some fun. He should’ve tried a little harder to sound a bit more interested.

“Jesus, Kang Yeosang.” He mutters to himself before shaking his head and heading off to the grocery store to grab some necessities for the studio.

❊ END

“My man!” You squeal loudly just as the 100% score comes up on the screen for you and Jeongin, jumping onto Yeosang and clinging onto him like a koala. He laughs and rubs your back, gently setting you back down on your feet. “Where’s—” You scream when you see Wooyoung and Jongho emerge from behind after greeting your friends. You run past Yeosang and throw your arms around Wooyoung and Jongho, your voice and Wooyoung’s voice loud enough to overpower the entire crowd gathered around the restaurant.

“Cheers, my guy.” Mingi and Jeongin hand him a shot filled to the brim, tapping their glasses against his before they take it to the neck.

“She’s drunk already.”

“Good, as she should be.” Yeosang squints and makes a face when the shot settles and travels down his chest.

“Who is with me on the karaoke machine?!” Changbin yells, pulling Mina from the side and forcing her to sing along with him.

“Let’s go dance!” You drag Yeosang to the sand where others are dancing, including Jungkook, Ryujin, San and Keeho. Mingi, Jeongin, Wooyoung and Jongho follow along after catching up with a few shots, a cocktail in hand to wash off the icky tequila aftertaste. You, Yeosang and your friends sing along to the songs playing, in between dancing with each other and keeping the party hyped. From time to time, Yeosang will pull you away to get his one-on-one time with you— always hugging you close, even when he’s just playfully dancing with you or letting you work your ass on him.

It’s a good night, a fun one; just exactly how you imagined your birthday to turn out.

After all the dancing and drinking, you silently sneak away to pick at the finger foods and fill your tummy so that you can be at a good balance tonight. You pop a few more pieces of the sushi bake Keeho made before sipping on water and stepping off to the side of the beach, observing the waves from where the rocks sit high and scatter among the sand. Although it wasn’t too congested at the party, it felt nice to step away and take a breather on your own.

“Come here often?” You hear Yeosang from behind you, his hands tucked behind his back as he shyly watches you turn to face him.

“I do, do you? Heard the breakfast is good here.” He chuckles before wrapping his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss to your head.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just watching the ocean like we used to. Can’t believe we’re back here with everyone.”

“Back where everything started.”

“Mmyeah. Exactly.” You giggle, leaning back into his chest.

“Happy birthday, my baby.” He says softly near your ear before smothering your cheek with tiny, repeated kisses. “I wanted to give you your present.” You feel his hands come around you, draping the silver necklace around your neck. It’s a small heart, with an infinity sign intertwined in the middle. You gasp when he finally secures it around your neck, earning a small chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Wait, this is the necklace I’ve been secretly eyeing! How’d you know?!” You pout, tears forming on your bottom lids.

“You don’t have to cry, princess.” Yeosang laughs. “I just do. You think I don’t catch you going back to visit the necklace at that shop every opportunity you get?” You laugh.

“I love it.” You smile at him. “You’re the best.” You tippytoe to kiss him on the lips.

“I know.” You roll your eyes and shake your head, admiring the necklace in silence a little more.

“Sangie?” You break the silence and fully turn to face him, hands resting on the nape of his neck.

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He taps the tip of your nose, causing you to let out a small giggle.

“I just wanna say thank you for everything that you do for me.” He doesn’t respond. Instead, he dips forward to lock you in a kiss; his hands coming to squeeze at your sides. This, too, hadn’t been easy nor perfect, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

❊ FLASHBACK

“Hey!” You smile through facetime, watching as Keeho, Mingi and Jungkook pile behind Mina in the shot. It had been about another month since your interviews wrapped up and you were offered the job at the aquarium [just as you had hoped]. A month since the encounter with Yeosang. A month since you finally left the past where it belonged in order to move forward.

“Okay, so she’s glowing!” Keeho laughs. “Whattup bae! How’s everything?”

“Good! I’ve been busy already starting my job at the aquarium.”

“Busy being our ‘lil aquarium worker.” Mingi laughs. “Congrats Y/N!”

“Knew your ass would get it!” Jungkook chimes in.

“Stop it.” You laugh, happy to see your friends all together at the restaurant. “Thank you, though.”

“We miss you.” Mina pouts. “I’m glad you called. It’s been different without you.”

“I’ll be back soon!” You reassure her. “I’ll visit, okay?”

“You swear?”

“Swear.”

“How’s everything been back home, though?” Jungkook asks.

“Mm, well. I finally talked to my parents after awhile. I think we’re okay for now. Definitely have things to work on because of how things have gone down between us in the past, but we’re okay.” You had just come from your parents house, and although you had expected the visit to be rough, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There are still a lot of things you and your parents need to work on together, but today was a start. Your parents had told you how much they missed you and how much they worried about you, your mom being the first to apologize about everything that had happened in the past. You did tell them about starting a job at the aquarium, and they congratulated you. Your dad was still awkward about the entire thing, but you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen in a long time today. He was softer. Happy to see you doing well and healthy. Genuinely congratulated you for taking those steps. A lot of his beliefs and values are still deeply rooted within him, but you think this might have served as a good learning lesson for him and something he could look back on. They were happy to have you back, happy to have you nearby. They were happy, and you were, too. It wasn’t gonna be an easy journey, and it wasn’t perfect, but you’ll take what you can work with and lift some weight off of your shoulders.

“What about Yeo?” You bite onto your botton lip.

“I’m gonna try and see him in a bit.”

“Gonna go get your man back?” You shyly nod, making everyone ‘aw’ in unison.

“Good. He’s good for you, and you deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

“I’ll let you guys know how it goes. I just wanted to call you and say hi.”

“You look good, Y/N. You look happy. Don’t lose that.” You giggle and nod.

“I’ll be back soon, yeah? I expect a whole ass party and a big group hug as soon as I step into that restaurant.” Keeho snorts.

“With what money?” You laugh.

“I’ll call you guys later.”

“Okay, be safe!” Jungkook says as they all wave. “Love youuuuuu!” They all say in their own sing-song ways before cutting the call. You send Jeongin a few texts to let him know how the whole thing with your parents went before letting him know you were on your way to try and see Yeosang. Although some time had passed, you were hoping he’d still be open to seeing you and talking to you about everything. The time surely helped, and you were willing to accept how things turned out— whether that meant starting over with Yeosang or being friends.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Yeosang licks his lips, letting out a small huff after pausing his quick workout. He’s relieved to hear from you, and to be frank, he missed hearing your voice. He had been waiting for this moment, and even though the wait was excruciating, everything about you was worth it. He missed you.

“Can I come over so we can talk?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll send you my address. It’s close to you.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes or so?”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“It’s okay. I’m already out, I’ll take a taxi over.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. See you soon, pretty.” You smile to yourself hearing the term of endearment from Yeosang even after all this time. His love pure, genuine— not ever coming short.

Your nerves are slightly getting to the best of you as you sit and wait for the pastries you ordered to be packed up by the staff member assisting you. When she hands over the boxes, you thank her with a smile and immediately call a taxi to head over to Yeosang’s place. You twiddle your thumbs and constantly smooth down the material of your clothes, nervous about how everything will turn out. The both of you have shared small texts here and there just to check in, but it was clear the two of you were trying to keep a good distance until things felt more settled. He wanted to give you time to work on yourself and figure things out on your own, even though he was fighting everything within him to do so. The amount of times he wanted to just call you, come to your house, kiss you and make love to you— tell you to forget everything that’s happened and to start over right then and there.

He always wanted to do right by you, even if that meant letting you go for a bit.

He tidies up his place even though there isn’t much mess to clean. He’s a simple guy, has little things here and there. Your photos, your shell sitting on his nightstand. He lights some incense and sets it at the corner of his living room to liven up his space. He’s in a simple fit after running to the grocery store, still clad in his black pants and charcoal-colored tshirt.

Should he have made something for you?

“Shit.” He says, trying to rummage through his fridge. But, he realizes it’s too late when he hears the bell go off and he’s having to buzz you into the building. Sooner or later, soft knocks come to the door and Yeosang is shaking off his nerves, letting out a breath. “Hey.” It comes off a lot smoother, more collected, than he expected. Goodjob, Kang Yeosang. Pat on the fucking back.

“Hi.” You give him that cute smile of yours just as you walk in and step out of your shoes, curious eyes exploring his place. “Wow, your place is so.. you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nice. Perfect.” You chuckle. “Don’t worry.” You show him the small box in your hand. “I bring some pastries.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”

“Are you sharing with me?” You nod and he smiles, setting it onto the coffee table as he plops down and sits next to you. His eyes quickly scan your outfit and how beautiful you look today. You don’t even have to try and it makes Yeosang’s heart soar. You're so fucking pretty.

God, he is so in love with you.

“What’d you do today?” He looks at you with the utmost attention and it gives you butterflies.

“Hm, I just ran a few errands and talked to my parents. Talked to everyone back in town.” His eyes widen.

“You talked to your parents? How’d that go?”

“Better than I expected. It’s not perfect, things still feel kinda awkward but it was good. We’re okay and I think we’ll be able to work through things over time. They congratulated me when I told them about the aquarium.”

“That’s good! I’m happy to hear that. You deserve it. Hope Keeho and them are doing well, too.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him for a little longer before you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “Yeah, they are. What did you do today?”

“Grab groceries.” He scratches at his temple. “I—uh, I’m sorry I didn’t prepare anything beforehand. I didn’t think about it until it was too late.”

“It’s okay.” You giggle.

“So, have you been okay otherwise?” You shrug.

“I think? I’m doing better than before.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“I’ve seen better days.” You slightly pout.

“Sangie.” His heart does flips when you say his nickname that way, when you look at him the way you do. You scoot closer to him on the couch and he welcomes it, resting his arm against the back edge so you can slot yourself right in the opening. “Sangie, I’m so, so sorry.” You cup his cheeks and caress the surface. “I just got scared, and I’m so sorry for leaving.” You watch as he leans into your touch a little more. “I know I should’ve known better and I shouldn’t have ran in the first place, but it was the only safe thing I knew. I was so used to doing it that I didn’t even think about how it’d affect you or anybody else in the long run. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He lets out a breath, his hand coming up to hold your wrist.

“You know I’m here with you, not against you, right? I would never do anything to hurt you. I don’t care about what happened in the past, I don’t care what people have said about you. All that matters to me is that you’re taken care of and happy. That’s all I wanna do, and that’s all I wanna do with you.” He cups your cheeks and lifts your head slightly so that he can look at you, fully look at you, and take you in. “You’re everything to me and nothing about that will change, Y/N. No matter what.”

“I know, I know that.” You repeat. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I wanna do this with you, and I don’t want anything else. Only you.”

“We can take our time with this.” He places a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand. “We can take it slow.”

“Okay.” Your voice falls to a whisper.

“Me and you, yeah?” He asks for some kind of reassurance. You nod, crawling onto his lap to sit comfortably on him.

“Just me and you.” He gives you a small smile before gripping your chin gently and bringing you down for a kiss. It starts off strong, as if all the desire he had been holding in could finally be released.

“Missed you.” He whispers in between kisses, hands resting on your hips while his tongue slowly prods your mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Missed you too, love.” The kiss gets sloppier and sloppier; teeth clicking in a fit of need, tongues fighting over dominance.

“Need to move this to the room. Now.” Yeosang hisses. He swoops you into his arms in one swift motion, causing you to squeal as you hold him tightly around the neck. He tugs off your shirt and tosses it across the living room while making his way to the bedroom. You follow the same urgency, tugging on Yeosang’s shirt just as he places you down on the edge of the bed. He sheds it off and lets it fall to the floor, his hands now working on your pants to get you completely bare for him. He places kisses on every inch of your body that he possibly can— moving from your throat, down to the base of your neck, your collarbone. Chest. He leaves feathery kisses down your valley of breasts, hand coming up to massage your tit before working his lips, his tongue, around your perked nipples. You let out an audible gasp, back arching off of the bed as he finally pulls your pants down and lets them join his shirt on the floor. He tugs your panties down and doesn’t waste a moment to leave a trail of kisses along your inner thighs.

“Wanna take care of you.” He says deeply just as he lowers himself in between your thighs and kisses your folds, your aching nub. His tongue slowly laps in between your folds, teasing your entrance before kissing his way back up to your clit and focusing his efforts on getting you off. You let out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his tongue nudge at your clit a couple of times, spreading your slick and his saliva all over your pussy.

He kisses you, touches you, like he’s been starved for years.

Your grip on his head tightens, hips grinding against his mouth to relieve the friction you are so desperately chasing, needing.

“Oh, fuck— Yeosang—” You cry, overwhelmed by the sudden orgasm that comes crashing down on you. Your thighs close in on him as he continues to suck on your clit, keeping himself there until he feels your body settle in his grip; until he feels your hands loosen around his head. He bites onto his bottom lip as he gets himself out of his own pants, stroking himself while his eyes glaze over your entire body.

“So perfect for me.”

“Need you, Sangie.” You mewl, his dick feeling painfully hard in his own hand. He slots himself in between your legs, free hand making sure to keep your legs cocked open for him. He takes his cock and taps it onto your sensitive heat a few times, taking the tip in between your folds and nudging it against your clit. He lets out a loud groan when he feels how wet you are against him, no longer able to contain himself. “Please, babe.” You beg, feeling him run his dick down your slick once more before breaching your entrance; taking his time to fill you up until he bottoms out.

Everything feels like it’s happening at the speed of light, unable to relish in every second. But, you need Yeosang. You need him just as badly as he needs you.

You feel tingles run down your spine as Yeosang finds a steady pace, hands placed on your inner thighs so he can watch his cock slip in and out of you with ease. His moans are mixed with yours, bouncing off the walls of his room along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Him pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow, like he needs to make up for lost time and show you just how desperate he is to have you.

“Ugh, fuck.” He lets out just as he lowers his body and hovers over you; his pace fast, quick. “Does it feel good, baby?” He’s right by your ear, teeth gently nibbling at your ear lobe.

“Yes—s-so good.” You can barely respond. Your hands thread into the ends of his hair as he continues to position himself right at the crook of your neck, keeping him close. “Keep going, just like that.”

“My special girl.” He groans, nibbling at the surface of your neck. “Gonna give you everything.” He pants while pounding into you. “Shit— Y/N, baby—” He moans. “Where do you want me? Mm’gonna cum.”

“Inside. Please, please, please.” You continue to beg, working your own hips against him to relieve the ache you feel, craving every bit of him. The entire moment is so intense; powered with so much passion and need that you feel yourself tipping over the edge, ready to snap all over again.

“I love you so much.” He says against your lips before his brows knit together, face contorting in pleasure when he releases his seed inside of you. You reach your second high at the same time, back arching against Yeosang while he’s trying to bring himself back down from cloud nine. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” He breathes, hearing you whine in his hold— the aftershocks of your orgasm still surging through your veins.

“I love you.” You respond. It takes a few minutes before you’re able to open your eyes and regulate your breathing, Yeosang cooing you and whispering sweet praises against your skin before kissing your cheek. Lips. Then, he plops onto the mattress next to you, bringing you onto his chest to hold you close. Keep you there right where you belong. With him.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You tease with a giggle, hugging him tightly as you shut your eyes momentarily and take in all of Yeosang beneath you— his soft skin, his touch. His scent. “Sangie.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too. You have no idea.” He places a kiss on the top of your head, finger gently tracing shapes on your back to relax you.

❊ END

“Aye, birthday girl! We’ve got the cake out!” Keeho shouts from the restaurant. “Bring that ass over so we can sing happy birthday!”

“Anything for you, hm?” He playfully taps your nose before grabbing your hand and kissing the surface. “Come, let’s go see your cake.” Yeosang smiles down at you and gives you another kiss to the forehead before leading you to the cake table. He had worked with a bakery to get your favorite cake— a simple ½ sheet vanilla cake with strawberry coulis, fresh strawberries and vanilla meringue icing. It was a simple but beautiful cake, with baby pink hues and dried flowers decorating the surface. Jungkook sticks two skinny candles down the middle, apologizing with a giggle for the shortage and for assuming he had more sitting in the restaurant. The crowd cheers and loudly sings happy birthday together before it falls silent when it’s your turn to make a wish. Yeosang admires you from the side, looking at you with pure adoration when your doe-eyes light up and you blow the candles out. Mingi helps snap pictures and polaroids, shaking them in between before laying them near your cake for you to see. Just as you turn to Yeosang for a kiss, he instantly swipes some of the icing down your cheek and laughs— running away from your wrath before surrendering due to your cute [but deadly] pouts and whines.

“I’m sorry, love. I had to.” He laughs, wiping at your cheek with a wet wipe. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am lucky.” He winks, causing you to snort. He puckers his lips for a kiss before helping Jungkook cut the cake and pass the slices along to everyone in attendance. Mingi calls you over to show you the rest of the pictures he took, proud of the work he’s done capturing the best moments from tonight.

“Happy looks good on her. The both of you, actually.” Jeongin says as he steps next to Yeosang, watching as you and Mingi continue to look at the pictures and laugh loudly together. “I’m really happy you two worked it out and never gave up on each other.”

“I am, too. And I don’t ever plan on changing that.” Yeosang continues to admire you.

“Yeah? This is it?” Jeongin smiles.

“She is.”

"Thank you for taking care of her." Yeosang returns the smile before diverting his attention to you as soon he hears you calling him over.

"Baby! Come look at these pictures!" You wave them up in the air happily. Now, you can add a few more polaroids to your collection— ones that have all your loved ones in one place. Ones of you and Yeosang. He can continue to add a few more sea shells to his night stand, ones picked by yours truly. And as far as he knows, he can continue to watch the waves crash against the shore with you. He can continue to grab the stars and place them in your hold just so you know what it feels like.

He can continue to shower you with love, give you all the flowers. This time, they won’t reach the floor. Because he has you, will always have you;

You— the purest, most raw, genuine definition of love, a flower he’ll continue to water and grow.

Blossom.

❊ taglist: @frzzenfrxg @syubseokie @asjkdk @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr

#yeosang fanfic #yeosang series #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang series #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez scenarios #kpop imagines #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang angst #kang yeosang x y/n #hwaslayer: flowers on the floor

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sorchathered · 4 months ago

Text

I can love you through the dark

Pairing- Jake Seresin x OC (Savannah Monroe-Seresin)

Warnings- language, angst, mentions of death, pregnancy, ptsd

Summary- sometimes the past keeps Jake up at night, but she is always there to bring him back from the dark.

A/N- an old WIP I found deep in my Google docs that I thought could use some love. Not beta read.

———————————————————————————-

Jake Seresin had a short fuse. He’d been working on that.

He kept his composure as Rooster threw that cheap shot at him, brushing it off despite the shock all over everyone’s faces by the pool table. “The only place you’ll lead someone is an early grave.” It rang in his ears later that night, Coyote was too damn perceptive as he watched his friend from across the shitty barracks room they were assigned to.

“I’m fine” Jake grunted as he stared at the ceiling, trying to will the thoughts away.

Two years. It’d been two years since his former wingman Torch had lost his life in a field exercise gone wrong. Jake had been cleared of any wrongdoing but he knew; if he’d watched his teammate’s back like he should have Torch would still be alive.

He’d worked his ass off to prove he was the best ever since, and refused to let anyone else in again after that day. Maybe that’s why he was so frustrated with Rooster, he cared too much where Jake refused to care at all. The mission was what mattered now; not making friends. All getting close to someone guaranteed was that you had more to lose, and Jake couldn’t bear to lose anything or anyone else.

“How are things going?” The soft voice filtered through the speaker of his phone as he paced the halls, another night full of nightmares and no sleep.

“It’s going. This is a big one, everyone who’s anyone is here and I worry that they aren’t taking it as serious as they should.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, he shouldn’t be on the phone with her right now, one of them at least needed to get some rest.

“You need to take care of yourself, and try to be a team player-“

He barked out a laugh at that and he could just see her shaking her head and sighing, she knew he couldn’t afford to get close to someone like that again, no one knew better than she did.

“Jake. I need your head in the game. I can’t do this without you, I- I need you to come home ok?” She was crying, he’d promised he’d do everything he could to never make her cry and here she was getting upset over him again.

“Sweetheart I’m not going anywhere, but you need to rest ok? I’ll be good, I’ll be the very best. Take care of yourself and our little angel. I love you Savvy, fuck- I love you so much.”

They said their goodbyes and Jake slept for the first time since he’d gotten back to Miramar.

Savannah “Savvy” Monroe had been Torch’s high school sweetheart, she’d followed him wherever the navy took him until that fateful day when his plane had gone down. She’d always seemed like an unstoppable force until then, and Jake watched one of his best friend’s crumble and turn into a shell of the woman she’d been. It seemed obvious to everyone but him that they would seek solace in each other, no one blamed them for how they chose to stitch themselves back together, and while they started a new life together Jake couldn’t help but struggle with the guilt.

She’d dragged him to therapy after a big fight, he’d walked out her early in their relationship; determined to prove to her that he didn’t deserve her love and push her to hate him as much as he hated himself. 6 months later he’d finally found himself again, only to find out that Savvy was pregnant. He couldn’t help but wish Torch was here, and his therapist told him it was not only normal but expected. He’d made an honest woman out of her quickly after that, life had proven to be too short and they wanted to start their new life with all the bows tied up nice and neat.

When the call came up to head back to top gun they were nearing the 7th month and he wanted her to stay in Texas with his mom where he knew she’d be safe and taken care of. Now he was here and all he wanted was to hold her, especially after Rooster managed to get under his skin. No one really knew that he and Sav were married, except for Javy and his wife and he wanted to keep it that way. Rooster knew Torch would always be a sore spot, and he’d pressed just the right buttons to bring Hangman to the surface. He filed that rage away for the right moment and when the time came he was ruthless, he knew it was wrong to cut Bradshaw down like that but Rooster had thrown the first punch.

When he got reduced to spare and Rooster got promoted to wingman he was almost relieved, he had too much to lose and it was easy to get caught up in the competition. He wanted to be the best, but he had to think of his family.

Mission accomplished and successful, everyone had survived and made it back to Fightertown safely. As he stepped off the carrier he heard her shouting his name and shook his head in disbelief, he should’ve known better than to think her stubborn ass wouldn’t be here waiting for him to return. She couldn’t run bless her heart but she waddled across the lot as fast as she could with a giggle as he scooped her up in his arms, kissing her deeply and then dropping to his knees to talk to his baby boy.

Rooster watched from a distance, realization striking him as he took the scene in. He’d met Torch’s wife before, years ago when they were in flight school. Heat burned his cheeks as he realized that maybe- just maybe he was just as much of an ass as Jake Seresin, and maybe his judgement had been too harsh. Coyote clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, nodding his head in their direction as he watched Jake pepper kisses to her cheeks, he treated her like she were made of glass as he escorted her across the lot to his truck.

“Now you know a little something about Hangman, he wants you to think he’s a pompous ass; but the man couldn’t be more of a marshmallow. I hope to God we never have to live through what they did, don’t you agree?” Javy Machado didn’t wait for an answer, just left Rooster to ponder that thought.

He thought of his mother, broken over the loss of his father and felt a cold chill, he’d find a way to thank Hangman someday, he had saved his life after all.

———————————————————————————-

Tagging- @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @seitmai @sebsxphia @mynameismckenziemae @sailor-aviator

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #Jake Seresin x oc #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Note

So this may be awkward but I saw your dbf fic and thought what about best friend's dad? Obviously it would either have to be a no outbreak au where Sarah is in her 20s or several years after the show when Ellie is an adult. Maybe the oc is a few years older than Ellie or Sarah or whichever you choose. Maybe I just haven't read enough TLOU smut but this is one I haven't seen and I would love to read something like this!

OMG Hi bestie!

So THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH THIS??? You sent this in FOREVER ago but I've been so hung up on Lavender and Beskar Doll I just didn't get around to this.

Anyway, HERE'S THE ASK FINALLY! I hope you like it!

UPDATE A/N: This is now a full series (has been for a while but I just realized I never linked to the master list from here.) If you'd like to read more, you can find it here.

New in Town

When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type.

Pairing: BFD!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Fingering, oral (male receiving), protected P in V sex. Legal age gap (Reader is 35 Joel is 47.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 5.6k (wtf is my problem)

You should have made Sarah text you a picture at the very least.

The bar was starting to get busy and you’d realized about 15 minutes earlier that you had no fucking clue what your best friend’s dad looked like.

“You’re sure it’s not weird that I hang out with your dad?” You asked Sarah the morning you left town.

“It’s not weird,” she waved you off, her curls bouncing. “Promise. He’s not like… an old dad. He’s fun. You get along with me so you’ll get along with him. It’s at least something so you’re not stuck in Austin not knowing anybody.”

“Yeah,” you nodded and then sighed, looking at your coffee. One last cup of the good stuff in Seattle before your flight in a few hours.

There was a knot in your stomach at the thought of leaving, now that it was actually here. You’d been in Seattle for two years now after moving here for work. Sarah was the only other woman in your department - not to mention the only other person under 40. She might have been 10 years younger than you but the two of you had become fast friends. She’d been there for a year - she’d started fresh out of college - when you came aboard and was kind enough to let you in on the office politics.

“So fucking glad to have another girl around here,” she said after you’d been there about two weeks, her arm looped through yours as you walked to a restaurant down the street from your office for lunch. “Lunch just isn’t as good with old dudes…”

Making friends outside of the office was just as awkward as you remembered and it wasn’t long before you and Sarah were hanging out all the time outside of work, too. She was probably going to be the thing you missed most about Seattle.

But the promise of a big promotion - setting up your own team at the new branch of your firm in Austin - was too good to pass up.

“Hey,” she put her hand on your wrist from across the small table. “You’re going to kill it down there. Just remember to demand me when the time comes to add a junior copywriter.”

“Well, simply no one else will do,” you smiled a little. She laughed.

You finished your coffee and Sarah dropped you off at the airport - your office paying to ship all your things down - and you flew off to your new life in Texas.

After a week of settling in, you finally caved and reached out to Sarah’s dad. She told you to just text him and you kind of hoped he wouldn’t respond. Once the ball was in his court, you’d be off the hook. If he never responded and you never met the guy, Sarah could hardly hold it against you.

“Hi! Is this Joel Miller?” You texted originally, following it up with your name and - just in case Sarah hadn’t bothered to tell him you were going to be texting - some indication that you weren’t a total stranger. “I just moved to town and Sarah told me to text you.”

“There,” you said to yourself, taking a sip of wine as you sat back on your couch. “Done. Not my problem any….”

Your phone lit up on your coffee table and you groaned. Of course he texted back. Of course he texted back fucking immediately.

“Hi,” he said. “Sarah mentioned you might text. Said you might need someone to show you around town. Want to grab a drink later this week?”

You rapped your fingers against the globe of your glass, the wine lush and red.

“Sure,” you said. “I don’t start work until next week, so just let me know when and where works for you and I’ll be there!”

You made plans to meet up two days later. You’d showed up a few minutes early, wanting to get the lay of the land before you met a stranger in a bar.

Joel, it seemed, was a bit late. You kept looking up at the door, waiting to see someone who looked something like Sarah walk in. But so far, there wasn’t anyone who fit the bill. A few guys who looked like they were UT students deciding to check out something further from campus, four guys who who definitely had just gotten off motorcycles, one man who was almost stupid hot and looked about 10 years too young to be Sarah’s dad and a guy about your age with a date.

You glanced at your phone. 9:13. At what point did you call it? Maybe try to pick up the hot guy who seemed to be hovering on his own at the bar. You hadn’t gotten laid in a while and you’d at least done your hair and makeup, even if you hadn’t tried to look like you were looking for a hookup.

Your phone screen hadn’t fully dimmed yet when it lit up bright, vibrating with Joel’s name on the caller ID. You sighed and answered.

“Hello?” You pressed your free hand against your ear, trying to drown out the sound of the bar behind you, but it sounded noisy on his end, too.

“Hi,” he said, a bit of a Texas twang in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure you were still plannin’ on comin’ out tonight…”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I was wondering the same about you, I’m here…”

“Where?” He said. “Don’t see you…”

You started looking around then, too, looking at every face at every table around you before you settled on… the stupid hot guy at the bar.

Who looked too young to have a kid Sarah’s age.

Who had a phone pressed to his ear.

Who was now staring at you.

You raised a hand and smiled awkwardly, giving him a small wave.

He looked surprised for a moment before hanging up his phone, grabbing his beer from the bar, and heading for your table.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, setting his drink down across from you and taking his seat. “I didn’t mean to keep you waitin’, I was just expecting someone Sarah’s age…” His eyes went wide for a second. “Not that you look old or anythin’, just… Not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, Sarah was the baby of the Seattle office,” you smiled a little. “She’s the best though. Thank God for her, I’d have been so bored there without her.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and nodded. “She is the best.”

Up close, Joel was still stupid hot. Uncomfortably hot. It was not fair how hot he was for him to be off limits because he was your best friend’s dad. His hair was dark and a little shaggy and you had to fight the urge to brush an unruly curl back from his brow. His eyes were the warmest brown with a light to them that made you want to just stare at him for a while. His crooked smile with one dimple, his slightly patchy beard, his unreasonably sculpted arms for a man who had to have at least a decade on you unless he was a teenager when Sarah was born. If you hadn’t met him this way, you’d be trying to get him home for at least a one night stand. But he was your best friend’s dad. Even if he made your core tighten and heat pool around your hips.

It turned out, you and Joel had more in common than you’d expected. You liked the same music and he knew some good live music spots in town. You were both into hiking - and both agreed that the views in this part of the country would be kind of lacking compared to the Pacific Northwest. You both liked trying to find the spiciest food in town and eating it as a matter of principle.

Of course, you hadn’t spent much time with men the age you THOUGHT Joel was going to be. Your only experience with men in their 50s was at work and that usually involved showing them how to save a word document as a PDF. You’d gone into this expecting to sit awkwardly with the guy for about an hour before going your separate ways. But you were pretty sure he was in his mid 40s, the same age as a lot of the guys you’d gone out with back in Seattle, and the more drinks you had the harder it was to remember that you weren’t on a date. You were hanging out with your best friend’s dad. She probably had to beg him to meet up with you, he probably had a girlfriend he’d much rather be spending time with on a Friday night instead of his daughter’s friend who was new in town.

But he seemed happy enough to stay for hours. The two of you were laughing over a particularly bad movie you’d somehow both seen - Giant Spider Invasion - when the bar announced last call.

“Shit,” Joel looked at his watch, clamping his hand over it after a second. “Didn’t realize how late it got. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your whole damn night…”

“No, I’m sorry,” you waved him off, reaching for your phone for the first time in hours to try and order an Uber. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than entertain me.”

“Not exactly,” he half smiled at you. That fucking dimple. “Don’t really got a thirvin’ social life. I get the feeling this arrangement was as much for me as it was you, knowin’ Sarah.”

“She’s cunning, that one,” you said, putting in your destination address. You groaned. “Shit!”

“What?” Joel asked.

“Surge pricing,” you sighed. “Come ON, it’s almost 2 a.m., it can’t be that busy…”

“It’s homecomin’ weekend at the school,” he shrugged. “Everyone’s in town drinking.”

“That’ll do it,” you sighed, bracing yourself to spend almost $100 on a car ride home.

“I can give you a ride,” he said. You looked up from your phone, frowning. “I’m good to drive.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” you said, about to push the button anyway.

“You’re not,” he said. “Trust me.”

***

Joel was very nearly in over his head with you.

Every part of him was practically screaming “mistake, mistake, mistake, you are a big fucking mistake!”

You were Sarah’s best friend.

You were more than a decade younger than him.

You were starting a new job and a new life and he really shouldn’t be trying to date someone he’d just hold back.

YOU WERE SARAH’S BEST FRIEND.

But none of that seemed to matter. He was damn near ready to kiss whatever asshole at Uber came up with surge pricing. He’d never been happier for an excuse to give someone a ride home.

It had been years - at least - since he’d felt like this about anyone. He’d known you for hours, no time at all, but it felt like years. Like he could say anything to you and you’d understand it. You were obviously smart, so fucking smart. After talking about movies with you for five minutes he was half convinced you saw an entirely different movie than he had, talking about allegories and symbolism and holding onto little lines he wasn’t sure anyone else would notice or think about twice. He wanted to see if you’d let him get to know you that way, if you’d have any interest in trying to know him that way. Fuck, he wanted to know you.

It didn’t help that he’d spotted you the second he was in the bar, absently turning your glass in your fingers, looking at one of the University of Texas themed Bud Light posters on the wall like you were examining it, your eyebrows drawn together, your mind clearly somewhere else entirely. You were fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that it was a problem, it was distracting, it made him not want to think about or look at or consider anything else. It took conscious effort to not stare at you. When he hadn’t known who you were, he’d been praying Sarah’s friend would stand him up so he could go talk to you. Fuck, he wanted to talk to you.

And then you answered the phone.

And you were Sarah’s best friend.

Fuck.

“You settlin’ in OK and all?” He asked after you gave him your address and he programmed it into Google Maps.

“Mostly,” you nodded. “It’d be better if I could actually get a maintenance guy to come out to my place but…”

Joel frowned.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“The garbage disposal has a hell of a leak,” you sighed. “I don’t know shit about plumbing so I’m afraid to try to fix it on my own. And the ceiling fan in my bedroom seems like it’s trying break out from its drywall prison whenever I turn it on so that’s been pretty useless. Maintenance keeps saying they’ll come by but they never do. I don’t think I’ll stay in that place longer than a year, this is what I get for apartment hunting from across the country.”

“I could look at it for you,” Joel shrugged before he was smart enough to stop himself.

“No,” you laughed and shook your head. “You’ve done enough for me as it is, I cannot ask you…”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” he said. “I’m a contractor, my area of expertise is fixin’ shit shoddy builders fucked up. You have plans tomorrow? I can come by, take a look.”

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. That’s what he was. Fucking stupid.

“Tomorrow would be great, actually,” you said. “I’m just about unpacked but I have a whole box of under the sink kitchen stuff that’s still sitting on my table and driving me insane. But you’re sure I’m not putting you out? I swear, it’s nothing that urgent, I just need to light a fire under management’s ass…”

“Not puttin’ me out,” he smiled a little at the idea of that. Fuck, you were doing him a favor, giving him an excuse to see you again.

Stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID.

SARAH’S. BEST. FRIEND.

“Early afternoon OK?” He asked. “Unless you gotta be somewhere…”

“Yeah, so far my vibrant social life here includes you and the barista down the street who now knows I prefer my lattes skim,” you laughed. “I’ll be around, come over whenever works for you. I hugely appreciate it, you have no idea.”

He watched you go into your apartment when he dropped you off, a townhouse that had definitely been built in the last five years. He sighed and shook his head. Shoddy fucking craftsmanship, things breaking that fast. He’d help you find a decent place when your lease was up.

As a friend.

Because he could be friends with you. That would be fine. Encouraged by his meddling but well-meaning daughter who’d arranged this to begin with. Friends help friends apartment hunt. He could be your friend.

He fucked his hand before he passed out, trying to think of anything besides grabbing you and kissing you at the bar as he did.

“Hey Dad! How’d it go last night?”

His eyes were still bleary as he read the text from his daughter the next morning.

“Hey Baby Girl,” he wrote back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How was it already 10 a.m.? How was Sarah a morning person? She sure as shit didn’t get that from him. “Went fine. Your friend seems nice.”

She wrote back immediately.

“She’s the BEST. Seriously. Give her like 5 minutes and she’s going to show you the best food in town, she always found the coolest restaurants up here, places no one else from the office even knew existed.”

Joel smiled a little at that. He’d heard a lot about you over the last few years, now that he thought about it. He wasn’t big on social media so he only ever saw pictures Sarah texted him - usually a selfie in front of some tourist attraction as she stuck her tongue out at him - so he’d never had a face to put to the stories. But you’d become an integral part of her life in Seattle.

You’d started as a “cool new coworker.” Then you got a name. And then you just became a “we.” “We went to this awesome new restaurant.” “We checked out this concert last night.” “We decided to go up the Space Needle because screw it, why not be a tourist in your own city sometimes?” He never needed to ask who she meant, he knew she was talking about you.

He just hadn’t known it was you.

Which was another reason this was stupid. He could not even consider doing something with you, even just in his head, not when you were that close with his daughter.

“You guys going to hang out again?” She asked. “I think you’d be friends!”

Joel ground his teeth for a second.

“Don’t need you to find me friends just because Uncle Tommy got married.”

Sarah replied right away.

“Well if you did it yourself maybe I wouldn’t,” she said. “And she needs friends, too. Plus this is really all for my benefit, if she can swing me coming to the new Austin office and y’all are friends, we can all just hang out together. Way easier to coordinate my schedule.”

Joel laughed a little.

“Going to help her with something at her apartment today,” he sent back. “We’ll see if she wants me around after that.”

Joel managed to keep from going to your house the second he was dressed. This wasn’t a problem he’d had since he was a fucking teenager, obsessed with some girl from his bio class. He was looking at his watch every five minutes, hoping it was reasonable to leave his house and go to yours.

He called it at 11:45. He figured he’d bring you lunch. You said you liked spicy food - the spicier the better - and if your garbage disposal was leaking, chances are you couldn’t cook much. You’d need to eat something. It was the polite thing to do, he reasoned.

Joel went to his favorite taco truck and got a little bit of almost everything. It was way too much food for two people but fuck it, he didn’t care. As long as it was something you’d like, he really didn’t give a shit.

You were in some kind of matching not quite sweatsuit when you opened the door, the tan fabric looking so fucking soft.

“Hey!” You smiled broadly, like him coming over made your day. You looked at your phone screen. “Damn you really mean early afternoon don’t you?”

He glanced at his watch. 12:23.

“Figured you could use some lunch,” he held up the takeout bag. “Didn’t think you were able to cook much, disposal outta commission…”

“Are you really bringing me food when you came over to do me a favor?” You asked, brows raised. He shrugged. “They weren’t kidding about that whole southern gentleman thing, were they?”

“Gotta give you pretty things some reason to put up with us,” he smiled a little. You smiled back and held the door open for him.

Your place was sparsely decorated but comfortable and it looked like you were just about unpacked. Joel set the bag of tacos on the small table off your kitchen and you staked your claim to the spiciest one.

“If it’s too hot for you, no shame in tappin’ out,” he teased, unwrapping his own taco.

“I eat men with low spice tolerance for breakfast,” you waved him off. “This’ll be cake.”

You took a bite and chewed for a second before your eyes went wide. Joel tried not to laugh at you.

“Holy shit,” you held a hand in front of your full mouth as you spoke, your eyes watering. “That’s so hot! How the fuck…”

“Yeah, you northerners don’t know what you’re dealin’ with,” Joel smirked. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

“Oh, it’s on now, Miller,” you said, wincing a little. “I’ve got this, you have no idea…”

He laughed but you finished the taco, eyes watering and face sweating, the whole way.

“Alright, think you’ve earned some handyman work,” he smiled a little. You chugged water, somehow managing to look good as you did. “Kitchen sink right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Run the water for longer than 30 seconds and it leaks like crazy…”

He did as you said, opening the cabinet below. You had a pot inside to catch any stray water. He turned the faucet on and after less than a minute, water was gushing out from the pipe leading down to the disposal. He shut it off.

“Good news is, it ain’t the disposal itself,” he said, putting his tools down beside the cabinet. “Looks like they just replaced it and did a shit job setting it up…”

He got down on the ground, lying down so his upper body was in the cabinet just as you came and perched on the counter nearby, watching him closely.

“Let me know what I can do to help,” you said. “I feel bad, you coming over, bringing me food, fixing my shit…”

“Don’t,” he said, frowning up at the plumbing. “Got me outta my house… can you hand me the wrench that’s in the lower part of the tool kit, the adjustable one?”

He heard you slide off the counter to the floor and rifle through his tools before handing him the wrench, your fingertips brushing his when you did. His heart sped up. Fuck this was stupid.

You settled in on the floor near him, near enough that he’d feel your leg brush his when he adjusted while he worked. You asked him about his favorite band and he asked you about yours. About favorite foods. About the one place on Earth you’d go if money and time were no object.

“Alright, think I’ve got it,” he said. “Do me a favor, turn the water on…”

“You sure?” You asked, a frown in your voice. “Don’t you want to sit up first?”

“I’m confident,” he smiled a little.

“Alright, turning it on now.”

And his confidence was correct.

For a minute.

And then it was like the floodgates opened and Joel was suddenly soaked.

“Cut it!”

You scrambled to obey as he got out from under the sink, dripping wet, shirt soaked.

“Shit,” he looked down at himself.

“I am so sorry!” Your hands were over your mouth, eyes wide. “One minute, let me grab you a towel…”

You ran down the hall and came back with a small pile of towels handing them to him one by one. He started with himself and then put towels down below the sink.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” your eyes were so wide and earnest.

“Not your fault,” he said, getting up, feeling like more than a bit of an idiot. “Your maintenance people just fucked something up big time…”

“I have a washer and dryer,” you said quickly. “Let me wash that for you…”

“Thanks,” he said and he peeled off the wet shirt and handed it to you. “Appreciate it…”

He was so busy trying not to look at you that he hadn’t realized that you were staring at him, looking up him slowly, your lower lip in your teeth. Like you were interested in him, too. Like you were trying to keep your hands to yourself, too.

Your eyes met his. This was stupid, this was very very stupid. You were standing close to him, so fucking close to him.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He was kissing you before he could talk himself out of it.

***

You weren’t sure if he kissed you or you kissed him but you didn’t really care because fuck, he was touching you. Your arms went around his neck and his hands went to your hips, pulling your body flush against his as he all but devoured you.

Like he’d done nothing but think of this since the night before, too.

You were up for an hour after you got home, cursing your best friend for having such a hot dad and trying to not think about what would have happened if you’d dragged him into your apartment when he dropped you off as you ran your vibrator over your needy clit.

Because how could you face Sarah if you’d fucked yourself to the thought of her dad?

But you weren’t worrying about that now.

Instead, you were leading Joel blindly through your apartment, to your bedroom. Your fingers tangled in his hair - wet from the explosive leak in your sink - as you kissed him. You pulled him against you as you sat back on your bed, crawling back toward the middle of it and tugging him along with you so he was hovering over you.

“You sure…” he began but you nodded so fast that he didn’t even finish asking, just smiling for a second before kissing you again.

His tongue was insistent inside your mouth, like he was trying to reach every part of you, but you liked it. The hot, aching need gathering in you liked it, liked that he was demanding and hungry for you to the point that, when his tongue slid back behind his own teeth it’s because he wanted to bite your lip with a growl.

You squirmed out of the soft wrap that was covering your arms and he pulled at your tank top, peeling it away from you and leaving you in just your lacy bralette you liked to wear before you really got dressed for the day. His hand cupped your breast, palm brushing your firm nipple, and you moaned. Joel slipped his hand into the lace and touched the bare skin below and you involuntarily thrust your hips up toward him. He smiled against your mouth at that.

“So eager,” he said, teasing.

“We both have way too much on,” you panted against him.

“Let me help you with that,” he slid his fingers below the band of the bralette and tugged it up and over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. “Jesus Christ…”

“What?” You asked, breathless.

“And I thought you were gorgeous before,” his eyes went over you slowly, tracing the edges of you. “Fucking hell…”

You smiled and arched into kissing him again, fumbling with the button and zipper on his jeans as you did. When you got his pants open, you slipped your hand inside his underwear, finding his thick, hard cock and stroking him. It was gentle at first, getting a feel for him and fuck he was hard as steel below your touch. He was also easily the biggest cock you’d ever held, so thick and long you knew you were going to be feeling him for hours after you were done.

Not that you minded. You wanted nothing more than to walk around with a reminder of him inside you for a while.

Joel’s hands ran over you until he reached your pants and underwear. He pulled them off together, pausing just before your panties would be so far down that they would expose your dripping, aching slit. He pulled his lips from you.

“This really what you want?” He asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

“I’ve been wanting this since last night,” you smiled a little at him.

“Fuck, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”

He pulled what remained of your clothes off and cast it aside, nudging you down so you were flat on the bed. He ran his finger over your slit, dipping into you just enough to make your entrance try to grip him but not enough that it gave your body something to hold. You moaned.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he pressed his finger against your clit, rubbing in circles, making you moan. “Gonna take real good care of you…”

He trailed his finger back down and sank it into you as his thumb pressed against your clit, making your body go tight around him. You rocked your hips against him and arched your back and you heard the smile in his voice as your hands flew to your comforter, knotting in the fabric there.

“There you go,” he said softly, kissing over your jaw to your throat, nipping and sucking you as he went. “Fuck you’re tight, need you to relax and come for me so I can get inside you…”

He added another finger, hooking them up into you, pressing into your inner walls and making you get tense and tight before you came hard around him, pussy throbbing so hard it almost hurt.

“You’re gonna feel so goddamn good,” he groaned as he slid his fingers from you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down with his jeans before he stroked himself, his fingers still slick with you as he did.

“One sec,” you managed to find your voice and you stretched back to reach into your nightstand and grabbed a box of condoms. You needed to open it and pull one foil packet apart from the rest. “Sorry, haven’t needed one of these in a bit…”

“Won’t hear me arguin’,” he half smiled at you. Fuck, that fucking dimple. You opened the condom and slid it on his tip, watching his chest heave as you did. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you took his covered tip in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and using them to unroll the condom the rest of the way onto his thick, hard length. “Fuck, beautiful, tryin’ to rush me through this?”

You just sucked him for a moment, his head lodged at the back of your throat as you started to work his shaft with your mouth. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair, as you went. He moaned as your tongue pressed against the underside of him before curling around his shaft. His grip on your hair tightened and you picked up the pace, all but choking yourself on his cock, not able to help yourself, until he pulled you back off him sharply, abruptly.

“Really don’t want things to be over that fast,” he panted, tilting his head back toward the ceiling for a moment. “Fucking hell you’re good at that…”

You smirked a little and he pushed you back down onto the bed before lining his cock up with your entrance. He paused and you moaned, rocking your hips against him, your whole body feeling like a spring that was coiled a bit too tight. His hands splayed wide over your thighs for a moment before sliding over your stomach, your breasts, back down again.

“Still want this?” He asked, voice needy.

“Want you,” you panted, nodding. “Need you, need you inside me…”

“Good,” he said, his large hands spread on your thighs, holding you open for him, watching where he was entering you as his cock split you open. He moaned, panting for breath. “Fuck, gonna be addicted to you, just fuckin’ know it…”

You pressed your hips up into him as he filled you totally, collapsing onto you as his hips met yours. He stilled in you, giving you a moment to adjust to the delicious stretch of him inside you. He was big enough that - if you hadn’t been so desperate for him, if he hadn’t already made you come once - you were sure that it would feel like he was breaking you in two. Like this, though, it was all pleasure with a hint of pain, just enough to make you feel so fucking full you thought you might burst with it.

He started slowly but forcefully, dragging his cock back so only his head was inside you, his pace so slow that you felt his head on every ridge inside you. But he thrust himself back into you hard, like he couldn’t bear not feeling you again immediately, like being without you was almost painful.

But he increased his pace, thrusting himself deep into you and pulling back before changing again, more rocking his hips down into you than fully thrusting into you. It meant he kept almost constant pressure on your clit, that the head of him was all but permanently against the spot inside that you immediately sought out whenever you used your vibrator. Your back arched into him and your pussy was so tight around him you were certain you couldn’t get any more wanting.

“Fuck, need to feel you come while I’m inside you,” he managed, sliding his arms below you to press your bare chest against him. “Please, Beautiful, fuck, please come for me…”

“Joel!” You cried out his name as you came around him and he fucked into you for another moment before you felt him throb inside as he spilled into the condom.

He collapsed on top of you, panting for breath and you ran your hands over his broad back. After a minute, he kissed you gently and pulled himself from your wrung out body and lying beside you.

“So,” he was still short of breath. “Got anythin’ around here I can come by and fix tomorrow?”

You laughed a little, trying not to think of the fact that you’d just fucked your best friend’s dad. Trying not to think of the fact that there was no way this could be a one time thing.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” you said. “I’m sure I can think of a lot of things.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller smut #bfd!joel #one shot

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