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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— hoax ⟢

pairing: joshua x reader

summary: you’re a hostess that’s drowning in debt, and jisoo is a man with too many secrets to keep. making a clean break for it isn’t as easy as you’d hoped.

word count: 18.6k words

tags: mafia!shua, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

warnings: shua smokes cigarettes & has tatts...i think that should be a warning LOL, mentions of shady mafia business but nothing detailed, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: psa that this is a fic i originally wrote for another fandom, but decided to repurpose for svt! in case you find the narration familiar, it's posted on ao3 as a genshin fic, i just did some tweaks to the story to make it fit shua better hehe ++ i loved writing this so much, but it didn't get as much love as i expected back so i've decided to share this w caratblr as well :')

smut tags: dub con in one of the earlier scenes, protected & unprotected sex, shua & reader are both whipped as fuck

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @spk93

joshua taglist: @renjunphile - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pretty-trustme

“Rei, time’s up!”

Your current patron groans with contempt at the manager’s announcement. He was a salaryman that’s probably in his thirties, and has been visiting the bar for about two weeks now. It didn’t take long for him to become one of your regular guests.

“Rei, you’ll be here tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Of course.” You flash him an apologetic smile as you untangle the arm that circles your waist. “I promise we’ll continue where we left off when you get back~”

This is how you normally appeared to your customers – the bubbliest escort in the entire red light district. It’s easy to lull men into a false sense of connection when you act so sweet and lovely; when you smile like the sun is in your eyes even in the middle of the night. In just six months of working in this place, the manager has considerably taken a liking to you, and you intend to keep up that track record just a few weeks more.

Then, you’d be free.

But no matter how much you doll yourself up for the evening; no matter how much money is signed on your paycheck, you can’t help but feel that something’s amiss.

It’s a lingering thought that tickles the back of your head every now and again. Your fellow hostesses once told you that feeling the way you do was all part of the job. So once you start feeling uncomfortable in your own skin – under the gazes of your own lecherous patrons – you pour yourself a drink and throw your head back with a ditzy smile. Despite that steadily growing void in her heart, their beloved Rei will continue to grin and bear it.

“They’re here again.”

You flash the manager a puzzled look once you make it back to the counter. “Who are we talking about?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, gesturing vaguely somewhere behind you. You manage to follow her line of sight discreetly, but when you see a pair of men in rugged suits seated near the entrance, your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach.

“I know you said you’ll deal with them, but they’re starting to unnerve the other girls,” the manager explains quietly. “Is it okay if you take care of this ASAP? I don’t want the bar to get mixed up in something bad.”

Dread sinks its claws into your skin as you mull over a response. The manager has been considerably patient with your dealings involving those loan sharks. But part of you knows that she’s only being this lenient because you were good at your job.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll go talk to them now,” you mumble.

Each stride you took feels like a step closer to your own grave. It’s always these same, two men keeping tabs on you – both with full sleeves of tattoos and a missing finger or two. It would make sense that the other girls didn’t like them lingering around the property. After all, your first instinct is always to steer clear every time you see them.

“How can I help you?” you ask sweetly the moment you arrive at their table.

The first one glares at you through his tinted sunglasses, taking a drag of his cigarette none-too-discreetly. “Cut the crap. You know what we’re here for.”

He says your real name in a way that sounds like two sheets of styrofoam gnashing in your ears. You look around warily, hoping no one heard him.

“I go by Rei in my workplace, so I’d appreciate it if you addressed me as such,” you speak sternly, refusing to take a seat in their company. “What do you want this time? Didn’t we agree that I’ll be paying for the last installment this month?”

The second man snorts before bringing out an envelope from the lapel of his coat. “You sure about that? You got some nerve actin’ all feisty with the people kind enough to loan ya some cash.”

You accept the envelope with trembling hands – brows cinched as you take out the document inside. But the longer you take to scan its contents, the wider your eyes become.

It’s an approval notice for a loan of five million won, signed under your father’s name.

“W-What is this?” you stammer. “We didn’t submit any more loan requests.”

The first man shrugs – wholly unconcerned with your plight. And as he kills his cigarette on a crystalline ashtray, you feel your entire world crumbling before your eyes.

“Your old man specifically told us,” he began, words sounding more and more like a threat with each syllable. “That you’d take care of it all.”

You don’t know how you end up running barefoot in the streets after that. Your heels have long been ditched in an alley when you realized you can’t exactly get that far in them. And now, you’re mindlessly shouldering your way through the late night crowd – tuning out the people yelling your name in harsh voices. Those men came prepared; they even stationed a couple of their goons around the area. You can only evade them now because the streets were so packed, but you know better than push your luck.

Goddammit, you think to yourself – cringing a little when you step on a wet patch of something underfoot. I was almost free…

“Don’t let that bitch get away!”

Your body seizes up when you hear the loan shark’s voice closer than you anticipated. Fuck. They have you surrounded.

In the midst of your momentary distraction though, you fail to see another person who’s also on the run. The same as you. While you did excellently in evading all the other passers-by, you ended up crashing into him in the middle of the busy street anyways – the impact making you stumble to the ground.

“Shit, sorry!”

You look up with misty eyes – staring at the perpetrator with the intent to glare at him, but his doe-like gaze takes you by surprise. He’s adorned with a neatly-pressed suit, dark hair slicked back to perfection as he holds out a hand for you to take; the one not gripping a heavy-looking suitcase.

“I’m okay…” you mumble, getting back to your feet without accepting his help. “If anything, I should be the one who’s –”

“There she is!”

The two of you bristle at the loan shark’s voice, and you’re rooted to the spot – frozen with fear. You don’t notice the way the stranger you just ran into flickers his gaze between your trembling form and the lackeys coming from every direction. And you’re ignorant of how he manages to put two and two together before seizing your wrist.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, tugging you along before you can protest.

You know you should be skeptical of him. The district you work in is the perfect environment for scheming assholes like the men who are after you to use as a stronghold. For all you know, this person is the same breed. But there’s something in his firm yet gentle grip that tells you he means no harm. Even as he makes you run faster, farther, you feel none of the dread that slowly crept on you the moment those loan sharks cornered you at the bar.

Your lungs are burning by the time you make it out of the busy streets – nothing but the chirp of cicadas ringing in your ears. Mystery man makes you sit on a bench just outside a small temple, and you’re not exactly in the position to refuse.

“Ow…” You wince, glancing down only to see that your toes have cuts all over; blood and grime mixing with the wounds.

“Hmm. Wonder what a pretty thing like you got herself into,” the man sighs, raking a gloved hand through his messy black hair. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

You don’t respond. You barely have the energy. The silence only deepens as you train your eyes on the ground. Your throat was parched from all that running, and you belatedly realize that you still haven’t eaten.

What’s worse is that the cuts on your feet sting like a bitch. Mystery man heaves a deep sigh, and you clearly hear the sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walks away. You try not to feel disappointed.

You didn’t expect him to stay and comfort you or anything like that. He was kind enough to go out of his way and take you somewhere those goons won’t be able to catch up. It would be stupid to ask for more. But still, you feel that hole in your heart rupture itself even wider – leaving you so hollow that you can’t even hope to fill the void anymore.

Your makeup is running. Your pedicure is a mess. These are some of the things that you always cared to pay attention to before timing in for work. But now, with nowhere else to go, none of them seem to matter anymore. Even if you spent a significant amount of time getting ready for tonight, you can’t be assed to give a damn.

This is so fucking pathetic.

You don’t want to live like this – working at a goddamn cabaret club just to pay off the debts your father always keeps racking up. All he ever does these days is drink himself dead before dragging his ass to the nearest pachinko machine. You hate it. You hate him. What did you ever do to deserve all the shit that’s being thrown your way?

Why do you have to deal with all of it alone?

“Here.”

You startle at the sound of your savior’s voice – surprised to see him as he tosses something on the ground in front of you. He came back? But what did he…

Are those sandals?

“I picked out a pair that matches your outfit best. Women are always particular about that kind of stuff, right?” he says nonchalantly, kneeling to the ground as he brings out a pack of wipes from a plastic bag. At that moment, you realize that he’s changed out of his stuffy gray suit in exchange for a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt.

Even his hair seems different now, like he'd washed out the wax keeping it in place. Now, it looks just a bit damp as the tips curl at the edges. How he managed to do all that so quickly, you have no clue.

“Hold still. I’m going to clean you up.”

You wince a little when the cool, wet tissue comes into contact with your skin. He doesn’t speak as he wipes off the blood and dirt from your feet, and you’re more mortified than grateful for his kind but uncalled for gesture. Is he trying to get you indebted to him? Are you going to have to pay this back, too?

A few moments later, you spot a general store a few blocks away and the pieces start to fit in your head. That must’ve been where he bought all this stuff. You look around as he continues cleaning you up, and notice that his suitcase is nowhere to be found either. Instead, he has a black knapsack hoisted across one shoulder – a red baseball cap hanging from one of the straps.

How did he manage to buy all this and get changed so quickly? Or were you just sulking about your stupid predicament for that long?

“There we go,” he says, tossing the soiled tissues into a nearby trash can before covering your wounds with…cute band-aids? “I’m not really one to stick my nose into other people’s business, but my mom would never let me hear the end of it if she found out I left a poor woman for dead.”

Mom? “Okay, but you didn’t have to do all of…this.”

Mystery man glances up at you with a lopsided smile – the light of the street lamps somehow accentuating the color of his eyes. He looks so much younger like this; dressed down like a college student in his first semester. Once he’s put all the bandages in place, he even goes the extra mile and slides the newly bought sandals on your now-clean feet.

“You’re right, pretty girl. I don’t have to.” He beams. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart skips a beat. Everything about him is still rightfully suspicious, but you find yourself oddly happy with the care he’s given. This is the first time someone’s been so nice to you in a long while.

“Now that you’re good to go, I best be on my way.”

All of a sudden, that fleeting bliss dissipates in a puff of smoke. “...Wait, what? W-Where are you going?”

The man rises back to his feet, and it occurs to you just how tall he is. You swallow the lump in your throat, instinctively backing away from him on the bench. He’s still wearing that endearing look he showed you earlier, but when he speaks again, his voice holds none of his initial warmth.

“Somewhere that has nothing to do with you.”

The words lance through your heart the moment they leave his lips, and you ask yourself, why do you feel so…sad about parting ways with a complete stranger? You don’t even know his name. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

You don’t say anything as he takes his baseball cap and eases it atop his messy hair. You don’t utter a word when he starts walking away for real. But the moment you recall the fate that awaits you back at the red light district, the ridiculous debt your father had foolishly signed, and the pathetic life you’ve been wanting to escape from for so long…

Your new sandals crunch against the fallen leaves as you run after him. Your heart nearly leaps into your throat from the adrenaline, and before he can go any farther, you catch the mystery man by the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t even flinch. As if he expected you to follow him right from the start. That makes you wonder if he thinks you’re being a nuisance, but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Take me with you. Please.”

He stares along with an unreadable look – his doe eyes shining in the dark as he watches you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt.

“If you come with me, you’ll never be able to go back,” he tells you up front. “You okay with that?”

In hindsight, maybe running away with a complete stranger isn’t far up in the best decisions you’ve made in life – god knows you’ve only made a few of those. Just because he showed you an ounce of kindness, doesn’t mean he’s a good person.

Still, the answer comes to you quite easily.

“Yeah,” you say, more confident than you’ve ever been. “Anywhere is better than a dump like this…”

He considers your answer for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “This town must’ve fucked you up pretty badly, huh? Poor thing.” Mystery man holds out his hand again, and you’re a bit too glad that he’s speaking to you nicely again. “The name’s Joshua.”

“Joshua…?”

Well, that was obviously an alias. You consider telling him the one you go by at the bar as well, but when your eyes rivet to the floral sandals he bought for you on a whim, you immediately assume that you should tell him the truth. Even if he was doing the exact opposite.

You give him your real name with little hesitation, face warming at the intensity of his gaze. But at that moment, you don’t really care what happens anymore. All you want is to escape reality without looking back.

If you have to cling to a complete stranger to achieve that, then so be it.

...

“You were just about to ditch me, weren’t you?”

Joshua jolts like a cat dumped with ice-cold water – hand shying away from the doorknob of your hotel room with a sheepish look. “Me? Ditching you? You’re dreaming, princess!”

You let out an irritated noise, but your shoulders relax once you catch him plopping his bag on the mattress either way. He’s the one who told you that you can’t go back once you tagged along. You wanted to say that you’re going to make it his responsibility to take care of you, but your mother brought you up better than that.

Still…this all feels a bit surreal.

All your life, you’ve lived in the small town of Andong. You could never afford to make the trip to Seoul even if you wanted – given that a majority of your salary is dedicated to paying off those shitty loans. Yet now, you’re checked in one of the most beautiful hotels you’ve ever seen, courtesy of your stranger-than-life companion.

Now that you’re in a clearer state of mind, you start to consider the possibility of Joshua being a foreigner; if his name wasn't already a dead giveaway in and of itself.

Another thing you’re left thinking about is how well-off he really is. Not everyone can just book a fancy room at a fancy hotel. But when the two of you showed up at the front desk earlier tonight, he was surprisingly received with warm hospitality. Although, you suppose that all guests are treated the same way in high-end hotels. Not that you would know.

“Well, since we’re stuck together anyways, I’ll be showering first,” he grumbles, tossing his cap on the nightstand as he musses his own hair. “Ahh, I can’t wait to crash into bed.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we agreed I was going to shower first –”

Joshua shuts the door to the en-suite, clicking the lock before you can even finish.

That jerk…!

You angrily sprawl yourself across the mattress as a petty means of getting back at him. Let’s see if he can crash into bed comfortably now! But the abrupt movement makes the bag that Joshua left rustle in place. You shift around until you’re seated on the bed, taking a quick peek at the opened zipper. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you to see thick wads of cash inside. You knew that you were right on the money to think there’s more to him than meets the eye.

The more rational part of you insists that you get out of here while you still can. That man is probably more dangerous than you think, and even if he’s acting all cheeky with you now, there’s no telling when he’ll decide to cut you off. You remember how quickly Joshua's mirthful countenance morphed into something…scarier when you asked where he was going earlier. Long story short, you do not want to mess with that.

“Hey, princess. It’s your turn.”

You scramble on the bed at the sound of his voice as you compose yourself in a way that doesn’t suggest that you’ve been going through his stuff. Joshua emerges from the bathroom with steam billowing from the doorway – a fluffy towel hanging low on his hips. But now that he was liberated from the confines of his clothes, you realize that his body was actually inked.

Twin koi fish curled around both of his pecs – accentuating the contours of his chest better than you’d expect. And when he turns around, there’s a massive caricature of a dragon splayed across his muscular back. You don’t know whether he’s oblivious of your observant stare or he’s just letting you enjoy the show. But either way, Joshua grants you an eyeful of his tattoos for a good amount of time.

He walks over to the table near the windows – grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter you didn’t know he was carrying around. Joshua takes a stick between his teeth, and you can’t peel your eyes away from the way he takes a drag after he lights it. But when his deep brown gaze finally flickers to yours, you’re not quick enough to disengage.

“So how long are you going to stare at me for?” He asks, amused.

Eye twitching with annoyance, you grab one of the pillows on the bed before throwing it right at his face. Joshua manages to catch it before that happens though, much to your dismay.

“None of your business!”

It’s only when you get under the spill of a hot shower that the gravity of your situation finally hits you. You absentmindedly scrub away the grime off your body as you think that you might’ve followed someone you shouldn’t have. Now that your prior amazement from seeing his tattoos had come and went, you realize that he didn’t have them inked on a whim. They were a symbol of status and power.

Working as a hostess means that you get to know a lot more shady guys than you’d otherwise meet under normal circumstances. But apart from those nasty debt collectors, you’ve done a great job at avoiding a lot of them. But now, you willingly waltzed into the den of someone that’s probably ten times worse.

Great.

You put on a bathrobe before heading out of the en-suite, peaking your head out of the door to make sure Joshua isn’t doing anything weird. But all you see is a tall man dozing softly on the bed – his still-wet hair dampening the pillows slightly. You sigh before padding back inside the room. Didn’t he ever learn that sleeping with damp hair is going to make him catch a cold in the morning?

For some reason, you end up grabbing a small, dry towel he left on the table – intent on patting down some of the moisture. Joshua lays still on his side, undisturbed in his slumber. You make sure you’re careful with how you dab the towel across his head; not really wanting him to wake up in the middle of it. But now that you’re close enough to study his face, you can feel yourself growing embarrassed. Joshua's thick lashes lay softly across the skin beneath his eyes, and when you look closer, you can almost see the tiny spots that dot his cheekbones.

You don’t like to admit, but he’s actually pretty…handsome.

A while later, you come to terms that you won’t be able to pat down his hair thoroughly if he’s asleep. That’s when you decide to towel dry your own hair for ten or-so minutes before climbing into bed with him.

The sheets feel smooth against your skin, but that does little to keep your mind off the fact that a gangster (at least, you assumed he was a gangster) is sleeping right next to you. You tell yourself not to sneak any glances, but you end up doing just that anyway – admiring each detail of his tattoos without really meaning to.

Is this really okay? Should I really let my guard down around someone like him?

All these thoughts drift in and out of your head, but in the end, you succumb to the day’s fatigue. Joshua bought dinner for the both of you once you got off the train on the way here, so your hunger was already abated. But you figure that a good night’s sleep is what your body needs to completely recuperate.

…But if he’s kind enough to patch up your wounds and buy you dinner, then gangster or not, maybe he isn’t such a bad person.

Joshua, however, makes you regret even thinking that literally the next second later.

The moment you’ve found a comfortable spot on the bed, the man beside you suddenly pounces – caging you in his strong arms before you can even draw a breath. His lips twitch into a lazy smile that borders on devilish, and you immediately figure out that you’re fucked.

“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” he laughs, tracing the swell of your lower lip with his finger. “Drying my hair ‘cause you’re worried about me? Princess, I’d be more careful if I were you. After all…”

When Joshua leans closer, you feel his breath fan against your ear – making you hate the way your body shudders from the feel of it.

“I’m not a good man.”

You should push him away – you know you should. But from the hypnotizing strokes of his tattoos to the endless honey brown of his eyes, you find Joshua whittling down your defenses alarmingly fast. When his mouth descends onto yours, you welcome him despite your voice of reason screaming for you to stop – to get away while you still can.

But that’s the thing, you can’t get away. Not when you willingly followed him in the first place.

His body is impossibly warm against yours, and you can’t help but respond to his touch whenever his dexterous fingers graze your skin. But as you let him deepen his tongue-filled kiss, you suddenly recall why you’re even here.

Persistent loan sharks. A never-ending debt.

And you have the gall to be doing all this?

“Joshua,” you plead, mustering the strength to push against his chest. “Please, stop.”

He doesn’t listen. Instead, Joshua nudges the folds of your bathrobe apart, exposing your chest to the cold air of your hotel room. A large hand moves to grope your breast, languidly massaging the supple flesh. But the sensation of his heated palm on your cold skin is enough to snap you back to your senses, and finally, you manage to retaliate.

“I told you to stop!” you shout, folding your knee high enough to kick him in the chest. Joshua obviously doesn’t expect this, and grunts in pain as he stumbles backwards on the mattress. He stares at you with a puzzled look, as if he didn’t try to take advantage of you only a few seconds prior.

“I didn’t come with you to be your fuckdoll, asshole,” you growled, tears stinging your eyes despite the anger in your voice. “Just because I’m a hostess, doesn’t mean I’m easy. Who the hell do you think you are?”

You expect him to lose his temper – to ‘remind you of your place’. Because that’s how gangsters usually operate. Going for the things they want without considering the repercussions on the other people involved. When he reaches out to you, you brace yourself for the oncoming impact. But instead of a hard slap to the face, Joshua caresses the side of your cheek almost apologetically. You startle at his touch – flashing him a perturbed look.

“Sorry, my mom’s always told me that I can be a bit too into the things I do,” he chuckles, thumb grazing the high of your cheekbone. “And that I can be a bit selfish and presumptive. When I did all those nice things for you today, I expected you’ll return the favor by whatever means~”

You don’t even have the time to think about how this man just brought up his mother in a serious conversation. Instead, you scowl at Joshua like he’s just lost his mind. “Doesn’t that just make you a scumbag?”

“When did I ever say I wasn’t?” He laughs. “Didn’t you find it the least bit suspicious that I was being kind to you without asking for anything in return? I’ll have you know that everyone has ulterior motives these days, princess.”

“I did,” you snap. “And I’m glad I didn’t trust you right off the bat.”

“Oh? But you trust me enough to share this room with me?”

You open your mouth, close it, open it again, but alas, no wise retort comes out. He’s right. You knew that Joshua was suspicious from the start, but you still threw everything to the wind and ran away with him. It’s not like you can go back now that everything has gone to shit, though. And you can’t say with confidence that you can find a place for yourself here in the city with no connections nor cash either.

All you have is Joshua, as much as it pains you to admit.

“Come here.”

Joshua eases himself back to his side of the bed and holds out his arms – as if inviting you into his space. You respond with a bizarre look that makes him snort. “You think I’ll come anywhere near you after that stunt you pulled?”

“Hey, you don’t want to have sex. That’s cool. I’m not so much of a scumbag that I’ll force you to do it,” he tells you nonchalantly. “But can we at least cuddle? It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt the warmth of a woman.”

“...You’re really, really strange. You know that?”

“Mhmm. So I've been told.”

Gods, you’re tired. Downright exhausted. You just want to knock yourself out and forget about the misfortune of having landed someone like Joshua as a companion. You appreciate that he isn’t the type to coerce women into sex, but…ugh! This guy’s impossible to figure out.

…Still, you inch closer to his welcoming touch, biting down a sharp retort when you hear him chuckling softly at your surrender. Joshua wraps his strong arms around your frame, and you close your eyes – catching a whiff of a salty breeze in the air. You wonder if the scent is coming from the sheets or his wild, wild hair.

“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” he teases.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Aww, you’re making an awful lot of demands to the person who saved you! I think I liked you better when you were bashful and on the brink of tears, princess.”

You scoff. “So not only are you a scumbag, but you’re also a sadist.”

“Mmm, I don’t have any objections about that, really.”

God, just what have you gotten yourself into?

...

If you thought your first night as Joshua’s unwitting travel companion was a big hassle, you’re certainly in for the ride for the next few days.

He’s always out during the daytime – feeding you excuses like he has to meet up with a couple of friends before leaving you alone and bored in the hotel room. It’s a good thing that the cable service here covered your favorite noontime soap operas, so you could kill time for at least a few hours. Joshua always returns before dinner, and orders room service while engaging you in small talk. He doesn’t tell you about his daytime escapades, nor do you ask.

But when the daily cycle repeats itself for the third time, you decide to put your foot down.

“Are you trying to get me to die of boredom or something?” you ask him once the bellboy takes away your food trays for the night. “I know you’re doing some super shady stuff somewhere out there, but would it kill you to show me around? First time I’ve ever been to Seoul and I’m confined in a hotel room.”

Joshua stares at you dubiously. “Princess, you’re not some inmate I’m keeping locked up in a cell. I never said you weren’t allowed to go sightseeing or whatever.”

You pause. Right, he never did say that explicitly… But you can’t really tell him you were too afraid to go out wandering on your own.

“Have you been behaving like I kidnapped you or something?” Joshua snorts, walking over to the windows to light a cigarette. Your face scrunches up at that. The room’s going to reek of tobacco smoke now. “How about this: let’s walk around the shopping district tomorrow morning. Besides, the spare clothes provided by the hotel are just going to rack up on the checkout bill. Might as well get you some better outfits instead.”

Looking down at your current attire, you can’t help but think he’s right. You couldn’t exactly bring any of your clothes with you on this very impromptu trip, and you refused when Joshua offered to lend you a bunch of his own. For some reason, a whole duffel bag full of men’s clothes arrived a day after you checked in, and when you asked Joshua about it, he simply said that he prides his men for always delivering the necessities for a trip.

His men. Meaning, this asshole is definitely a big shot kingpin of some sketchy organization and he’s just keeping his mouth shut about it. It’s a good thing that the staff offered to give you some hotel-issued clothes for a certain price, though. Like hell you’re going to prance around in a mafia boss’ clothes.

But…did you hear him right? Did Joshua just offer to take you shopping?

“Don’t you dare think you can buy my trust with material things,” you warn him, bringing your knees closer to your chest on the bed. “I’m still on to you.”

“So scary,” your companion chuckles, tilting his chin up before puffing out a cloud of smoke. He looks like he’s just about to follow that up with another jab to get on your nerves, but something seems to catch his gaze.

Then, you realize that Joshua is staring at your feet.

Before you can blurt out some offhand remark about a foot fetish, though, he asks, “You won’t be needing band-aids anymore, right? I can always run to the drugstore and get you some.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that. My feet are fine,” you insist before following it up with a softer, “But I might need a new pedicure, though…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. What time are we going out again?”

The next morning, Joshua jostles you out of bed at seven A.M. sharp – much to your utter dismay. Judging by how never stays out too late despite his questionable business ventures in the city, it probably makes sense for him to be a morning person. He tells you that the shopping district doesn’t even open until nine, but the bastard insists that the early morning sun is good for your skin!

As he shows you around the main avenue, though, your initial unwillingness to go out so early in the goddamn morning slowly ebbs – having been replaced with pure, unadulterated awe because wow. The big city really is a sight to see. It’s so different from your hometown that you kind of regret not visiting sooner.

Thankfully, there are some places just outside the shopping district that open much earlier. Joshua escorts you to a nearby restaurant – insisting that you can order to your heart’s content. You receive the offer with equal parts bewilderment and concern, but cooping yourself up in that damn hotel room gives you little time to think about courtesy. If he’s willing to pay for your expenses, who are you to refuse?

Breakfast goes the same way all the other meals you shared with Joshua have gone so far. You try to probe his reasons for visiting Seoul as subtle as you can, but he always skirts around the topic with a face as smooth as butter. It’s obvious that he isn’t going to start talking about whatever undercover mission he’s on, so instead, you ask about his family.

“My family?” he repeats.

You nod. “Yeah. You brought up your mom like...twice already. Kinda made me wonder if a lunatic like you is actually a family man.”

“Hey! While you’re not wrong about me being a lunatic, I’ve yet to show you that side of me. That’s a pretty mean assumption.” Joshua pouts, scooping a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

You’re not even going to ask him to elaborate.

“Hmm… But I guess you could say I’m a family man,” he hums right after swallowing his food. “I’m an only child, but I've always wanted a family of my own, you know? Old suburban home, white picket fence, six kids, and a dog –”

“Six?” you echo. “Were you that lonely growing up?”

Joshua snorts. “Where I'm from, it's completely normal to have a ton of kids.”

“Where are you from anyway?”

“The U.S. Los Angeles, specifically.”

Los Angeles… Well, at least he's honest about that. His answer also proves your hunch about him being a foreigner.

“What are you doing so far away from home then?” you ask. “Won’t your parents miss you or something? Don’t you miss them?”

An emotion you can’t quite identify passes over Joshua's face – something grim and untouchable. You’re about to insist that he doesn’t need to answer or anything, but the look disappears faster than it surfaced and he’s back to flashing you a shit-eating grin like usual.

“Hmm, why are you talking about family when we’re out on a date?” he sulks. “You’re so unromantic. How about you teach me how to use chopsticks instead?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “You…don’t know how to use chopsticks? But your Korean is so fluent.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hasty generalization. Just because I can speak the language, doesn't mean I'm good at the other cultural customs, you know.”

Just like that, Joshua expertly makes you forget about all that talk about his family. He distracts you well enough until you finally arrive at the shopping district, and the first thing he does is drag you to a beauty salon.

“Uh, I thought we were buying clothes,” you tell him dryly.

He hums, already signing the clipboard that the lady behind the reception counter hands to him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get a pedicure first?”

“...I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not.” He grins before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come get you in half an hour. That sound good?”

You can’t even let yourself feel the heat rushing to your face because Joshua is already sliding a black credit card onto the counter – the limitless variant that you can only dream of getting for yourself. What on earth is he doing with that bag of cash back in the hotel room when he had one of those the whole time?

“That’s a gorgeous boyfriend you have, miss.” Your beautician sighs as she massages your feet with moisturizer. “I wonder when I’ll get lucky to land a guy that hot.”

You’re compelled to tell her, no. That potential criminal mastermind is most certainly not your boyfriend. But the way this woman’s gentle hands press down on your toes reminds you of the night you met Joshua. How he went out of his way to clean the dirt off your feet without uttering a single word in complaint. How his eyes appeared so disarmingly brown that you can’t forget their color even if you wanted to.

And not to mention that innocent kiss he gave you before making his leave earlier…

Nope. Get it together, you chide yourself. That is the same douchebag that tried to have sex with you the other night. And are you forgetting the fact that he’s hinted at his own criminal activity several times now?!

But in spite of yourself, you respond to your beautician’s words with a gentle smile.

“I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

…

“Joshua, this is way too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, thank you for spoiling me rotten, but what the fuck? Who buys a hundred thousand won's worth of clothes for a woman he barely knows?”

“Does it matter? Not to brag, but I’ve got lots of cash to burn, princess.”

“...That’s – That’s not the point!”

It’s not even lunch time but you’re already arguing with Joshua over his irresponsible expenses. Like, sure, this all totally works in your favor, but you still have a shred of decency at least! He’s already bought you three expensive dresses, a nice pair of designer jeans, and some chic-looking heels. He got you the last one from the store the moment Joshua noticed your stare lingering too long on the display window.

You used to joke around with your old college friends about getting a sugar daddy in the past but… Is this really the right way to go about it? Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal?!

“Don’t you like them?” he asks, lower lip swelling into a pout. “We can always pick out something else. Oh, I forgot to make you choose a swimsuit.”

“...What do I need a swimsuit for?”

He spares you another conniving smile, taking something out from inside his jacket before showing it to you.

“Are those…” You gape at him. “Plane tickets?”

Joshua nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yep. We’re going on vacation to Jeju Island. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

No, it doesn’t! Not in the slightest!! Okay, maybe you’re a bit curious to see what Jeju's famous coastlines have to offer, but… That doesn’t explain why Joshua is so willing to spend unspeakable amounts of money at the drop of a hat. You wonder what’s so damn special about you for him to keep spoiling you like this, but then again, maybe he’s never been frugal to begin with. Unlike yourself – who’s always had to work for every penny just to make ends meet.

The realization dawns on you like a sucker punch to the gut. Sure he’s kind enough (more like, crazy enough) to let you tag along with him, but the fact that the two of you live in completely different worlds only starts to sink in at that moment.

Right now, Joshua is donned with a maroon shirt with the buttons done only up to the middle – giving you a glimpse of those tattoos you’ve never grown tired of looking at. He matched it with a black leather jacket and a nice pair of trousers, looking like a million dollars in every single way. Even if you managed to change into a more stylish fit compared to your hotel clothes, you still feel grossly inferior – not that the two of you were on equal footing in the first place.

This isn’t all that different from that sinking sensation you always felt in the bar – a feeling like you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. Somewhere you don’t belong.

Joshua is a goddamn big shot, and you? You’re just a parasite. You don’t deserve all of this finery. You don’t even deserve his company at all.

If he notices how you’ve gone noticeably silent as he leads you to an athletics store, Joshua doesn’t bring it up. He merely holds up all the bags of unnecessary purchases in one hand, and your own hand in the other. You don’t fault the lady at the salon for thinking this guy was your boyfriend. To an outsider, the two of you must’ve looked like a couple in their mid-twenties.

But even if he practically jumped you last time, you know better than to expect more than what he’s already giving you. Besides, you didn’t run away with Joshua just to get together with him…

Right?

“Does this look okay?”

You come out of the dressing room to show Joshua the swimsuit he picked out for you. He glances up from his phone, and you try not to let the mesmerized look on his face get to your head.

“You’re looking real sexy right now, princess,” he admits – pocketing his phone as he walks to the front of your stall. “I knew it. Blue really suits you.”

“Quit saying weird things,” you mumble, shyly draping your arms over your chest. “Do you want me to get it or not?”

“More importantly, do you want to get it?”

“H-Huh?”

All of a sudden, Joshua pushes you back inside the stall – locking the door behind him before you can utter a protest. There’s a serious look on his face that you don’t get to see a lot, but you don’t get to ponder on it much. He’s quick to place both of his large hands on your shoulders, making you face the full-body mirror inside without any delay.

“Do you not like receiving gifts, gorgeous?” he whispers, and you hate how your skin prickles at the new pet name. “You’ve been so against everything I bought for you all day, even though you’re the one who picked them out yourself.”

“Joshua –”

One of his hands starts to descend, brushing across your arm and onto the curve of your waist. His other hand teases the straps of your bikini top, sending involuntary shivers running down your spine. To make things worse, your breath hitches as you meet Joshua’s gaze in the mirror – piercing doe eyes holding you hostage with a single glance.

“Or maybe you don’t like receiving gifts from me,” he considers. “Well, I am a bad guy. If you want me to cut it out, you can tell me up front. I just hate seeing that look on your face.”

“...What look?” you whisper – trying your best to distract yourself from the heat of his touch.

Joshua sighs as he rubs your exposed skin tenderly. “The look you make when you’re sad. You’ve always been making that look ever since we left for the city. Honestly, I’ve even considered sending you back home a couple of times -”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “D-Don’t send me back. Please. Anywhere but there.”

You don’t even notice that your own hands moved on their own accord – palms placed on top of his much larger ones from where they now rest on your hips. Joshua stares at your reflection with wide eyes before he sighs, burying his face in the hollow of your neck.

This is a dangerous position to be in. He easily covers your body with his own, and you can only do so much to hold back the noises threatening to spill from your lips as Joshua massages your sensitive skin.

“Then why do you keep refusing me?” he murmurs, teeth grazing the column of your throat. “From what I recall, you’re the one who came to me, princess. I thought you’d be more thick-skinned than that. Other women would kill to be in your place, you know.”

“That’s because I don’t get you, Joshua,” you argue, biting your lip when he starts to suck on your skin. “Y-You can be an ass at times, but you still do all these nice things for me anyway. You’re even splurging a shit-ton of money for no good reason. I get that you’re loaded but…why? Why are you being so kind to me?”

He lets out a soft laugh that reverberates sweetly across his chest – you feel the vibrations from where he presses himself behind you, and you have to clench your thighs together to stem your pooling desire. “You’re not used to being treated well by the people around you, huh?”

You scoff – the accusation stinging more than it should. “You think?”

Joshua doesn’t respond immediately – letting himself get a feel of your pliant body for as long as you allowed it first. He tries to familiarize himself with how your skin feels against his fingers; where your erogenous zones are, and the other spots that make you blush like a schoolgirl. It’s a bit selfish of him to delay such an important answer, but Joshua is nothing if he’s not selfish.

“When I was assigned to go to Korea, my…employer gave me an ultimatum – one that involves my family back home,” he tells you quietly. “If I don’t go back to L.A. with substantial results, they’ll be the one to suffer the punishment.”

Suddenly, you could see through the sensual haze that hung between the both of you seconds prior. Shock paints itself raw on your face as you blurt out, “You were blackmailed?” God, no wonder he didn’t want to talk about his family.

“Heh. I’m used to being blackmailed, pretty girl. It’s part of my job,” Joshua speaks nonchalantly. “But…that doesn’t mean I didn’t drag my ass here, nearly overwhelmed with anxiety. I’d kill a man if I was ordered to do it, but if my family’s lives are at stake? Anyone would be terrified.”

You feel your heart sink at the way his expression shifts into something more melancholic. Joshua exchanges his suggestive caresses for a proper embrace. He hugs you from behind, breathing in the scent of cheap shampoo still lingering in your hair.

“What does that have to do with me?” you whisper. “I don’t understand…”

“When you bumped into me at Andong that night, you kind of snapped me out of it,” he chuckles. “I couldn’t think of anything else but my job and my parents, but then you came along. Honestly, I was only supposed to help you get away from the assholes chasing you but…”

“I ran after you…” you continue, feeling more embarrassed than you should.

Oh. You don’t even have the right to feel like shit for being with Joshua because you chose to be here, dammit! Why do you keep forgetting that?

“Exactly.” Joshua hums as he snakes an arm in front of your stomach, pushing your body against his chest. “I’m not always this territorial, you know, but you practically offered yourself up. Do you know what that does to a guy like me?”

You shouldn’t find it so fucking hot when his other hand trails up from your navel, your chest, all the way to your neck – thick fingers pressing down your throat with ample pressure. Your gazes meet in the mirror, and you don’t miss the near-manic glint in his eyes as Joshua holds onto you possessively.

“Now tell me, princess. Do you want the swimsuit or not?”

You can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes your lips. At this point, you have no choice but to let him buy you the damn thing. You’re pretty sure Joshua’s aggressive display is enough to make you soak through your bottoms, and it’s not like he’s going to take no for an answer either.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as he eases his hand away from your neck. “I’m just…not used to wearing all of this. It’s like I’m not meant to. I’ve always just settled with clothes that go on sale, you know.”

“...Well, how do you feel about the stuff I give you?”

“Um. They’re all pretty, I guess?”

“Do you wanna wear them?”

“O-Of course.”

Finally, Joshua peels himself away – only to twirl you around to face him directly. His tousled black hair is sticking out every which way, but all you can focus on are his rich brown irises, nearly drowning you in those endless pools of honey.

“Then you better wear them unapologetically,” he tells you, tucking a tuft of your hair behind your ear. “A princess needs only the finest garbs. Why do you think I call you that all the time, huh?”

“To get a rise out of me?”

Joshua barks out a laugh. “I guess I can’t say no to that. But anyways, the point still stands: I’ll give you anything and everything in the world. All you have to do is ask.”

After what seems like an eternity inside that damn dressing room, you manage to kick him out of the stall before putting your clothes back on. You end up replaying everything he just told you like a broken record. Anything and everything? This man is a different kind of delusional.

But you can’t really afford to think about it much. Just as you thought, the evidence of your rather…risqué encounter with Joshua is lathered across the inseam of your bottoms, and you shamefully wipe it off with a napkin you nabbed from the restaurant.

When the two of you head back to the cashier to make your nth purchase of the day, you’re vaguely aware of the other sales persons stealing glances at you and Joshua. Well, if you were in their shoes, you’d certainly find it odd why it took almost thirty minutes for you to try on a damn swimsuit. But fortunately, Joshua's reputation precedes him even at a shopping center all the way in Seoul. None of them dare to speak to him, much more raise any complaints.

“Couldn’t you have waited to sit down and have the talk with me back in our hotel room?” you groan once you make it out of the store. “I’m sure those guys think you fucked me in the stall or something.”

“Would you like that?” Joshua teases, and you’re sure he would’ve pulled you close to him if only his hands weren't full of shopping bags. “Does my princess get off on the idea of being fucked silly in a dressing room?”

“Don’t push it, asshole.”

You meant to punctuate the words with a borderline scowl, but all that makes itself known on your face is a sheepish smile that you can’t quite bite down. Joshua notices this, of course, but instead of making you flustered about it like usual, he offers to flag down a taxi on the way back to the hotel instead of walking.

The last thing he needs is to ruin your new pedicure, after all.

...

A week later, you and Joshua arrive at Jeju Island.

You didn’t even consider the possibility of this place having an airport. All this time, you assumed that sea travel was the way to go for them. But you were surprisingly greeted by the sight of a modern-looking terminal as you and Joshua waited for your luggage. He’s been quiet for the whole ride, and you’d be lying if you said that doesn’t concern you even a little. Joshua not running his mouth just to piss you off means something was up.

But when the two of you finally make it outside, he’s back to his usual self.

“So, do you want to sample Jeju's finest mandarin orchards, or do you want to settle down at the hotel first?” he asks with a chipper smile. “Though you do look like you want to take a nap.”

“I do,” you reply, yawning as you lean against his shoulder. “Can’t we just cuddle today?”

“Oh? You’re offering cuddles for free? Who are you and what did you do my princess?”

“...Cringe.”

“Wha – Did you just say I’m cringe?!”

Your banter is interrupted by a man in a suit clearing his throat. You stare at him with thinly veiled confusion, wondering what he needed.

“Sir Joshua. We’ve been anticipating your arrival.”

…Sir Joshua?

“Oh, Chan. I didn’t think you’d be the one stationed here,” your companion greets the man with a smile – plucking your duffel bag from your grasp before handing it to the newcomer. “Tell the driver to bring us to the hotel first.”

Chan nods swiftly. “Understood, sir.”

That’s how you find yourself in the backseat of a high-end limousine – speeding through the scenic roads of Jeju as you and Joshua bask in the silence. He’s busy talking to someone on the phone, but you can’t bring yourself to eavesdrop on their conversation. It feels wrong to do so.

Instead, you let yourself wonder what he has planned. After he fulfills his mission, what then? Is he going to take you back to L.A.? You’re not so deluded to think that he’ll stay here with you when he has a family waiting for him. But the idea of traveling all the way to his homeland makes you a little queasy. You’ve just gotten used to visiting far-away places in Korea. You think you’re going to need a bit more momentum before packing up to the other side of the world.

…Does he work well in the cold? You barely see him sweat even in the humid air of the summer. Maybe Joshua is the type of person who can easily adapt to the current climate. When that train of curiosity starts to pick up, though, you realize that it’s a little hard to stop.

You want to know more about him. About his habits, his quirks, his family, and his work. He obviously likes you enough to keep showering you with gifts. Of course, you’ve tried asking a few questions about those in the past, and Joshua merely brushed them off with a laugh.

But things are different now. Ever since that…fateful encounter in the dressing room, he’s been more open with you. More up front about the things going on inside his head. If you push the right buttons, then you might be able to understand him a bit better.

Joshua pockets his phone about five minutes later, leaning against you before circling his arms around your waist. “Hmph. Can’t believe I’m still forced to think about work.”

“You can always just switch off your phone,” you suggest jokingly.

He only sighs in response, and you pat his head gingerly as a means of comfort. “By the way, I planned on scheduling a trip for Sunrise Peak, but turns out, it's closed to tourists for the weekend.” Joshua looks up at you, pouting. “Sorry, princess. I can only take you to the beach.”

He was planning a visit to Sunrise Peak? Well, you haven’t seen it with your own eyes yet, but the fact that Joshua is intuitive enough to hazard guesses about what you might and might not like…

You want to familiarize yourself with him, the same way he so effortlessly does with you.

Not giving him any leeway to pull back, you grab his face and mesh your lips on top of his. Joshua doesn’t respond for a few seconds – and you can almost imagine him staring at you with wide, brown eyes. But eventually, he laughs into the kiss before pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

“That’s fine by me,” you murmur.

As long as I’m with you.

...

Your hotel room back at Seoul was one of the best you’ve seen, but the one here on Jeju just set the bar even higher.

Once the two of you have settled down in your suite, you gaze around in awe at the interior. Everything is mostly made out of wood, which further adds to the appeal of it all. Seashell curtains, exotic carpets, hand-made wind chimes – they have it all. Not to mention, this room in particular comes with a private pool just by the balcony, along with a view that overlooks the sea. Joshua teases you about how excited you are – just like a kid on a school trip – but you decide to let his impudence slide.

“Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

You gaze at him sulkily by the edge of the pool, watching as Joshua smokes a cigarette on top of a folding chair. He’s already changed into his swimming trunks – having removed his shirt and other accessories. Yet he still refuses to get in the pool with you. Still, Joshua gets up from his chair with a soft laugh, padding closer as he crouches over the edge.

“You should know about the delicate art of having a smoke while watching your girl have fun,” he tells you, taking a drag as if to prove a point.

Your eye twitches. “You’re the one who picked out my swimsuit, so you better have fun with me!”

Despite all his bravado, you don’t miss the look on Joshua's face when you yank on his leg – the forward momentum easily making him topple into the swimming pool. You let out an unflattering laugh as he flounders in the water for a few seconds before Joshua rises back to the surface with an annoyed look on his face.

“Hey, I don’t remember you being this much of a brat, princess,” he grumbles, picking off the doused cigarette floating in the pool before tossing it back on the concrete.

“That’s my way of telling you to quit,” you say, snickering to yourself. “Seriously, it always smells like cigarettes in our old hotel room. The smoke detector must’ve been busted or something… Joshua?”

While you prattled on about the fact that you disliked a habit that he probably formed years before he even met you, Joshua waded through the water and cornered you by the side of the pool. You gulp, observing how the water glistens across his skin as his tattooed chest stands proud for you to see.

“You know, I noticed a little something over the past few days,” he whispers – mouth twitching into a no-good smile as he reaches a hand to cup your jaw. “You really like staring at my chest, don’t you?”

“Wrong. I like staring at your ink.”

“But it’s still staring, isn’t it?” Joshua breathes out an airy laugh before planting a kiss on your forehead – the same way he did that time at the beauty salon. The patch of skin that’s grazed by his lips burns when he pulls away, and you hate how the sensation spreads across the rest of your face.

“How about we get you inked someday?” he offers.

“Me? Getting a tattoo?” You blink. “Uh, I used to think about getting one when I was still in college, but…?!”

All of a sudden, this bastard places his hands on your waist before hoisting you out of the water like you weigh nothing more than a bag of rice. You scowl at him, thrashing around and splashing water everywhere. But Joshua doesn’t seem to be bothered by all your flailing. He even seems to be observing your lower body like he’s trying to figure out how to chop up each part for later.

“Hmm… I think one on your thigh would suit you,” he says, lowering you onto the edge of the pool. “Navel tattoos are pretty hot, too.”

“But what’s the point if no one can see?” you huff.

“Hey, my tatts are always covered,” Joshua reminds you. “That’s because only a select few are deserving to see them.”

His words ignite a surge of heat inside your chest. If you weren’t blushing before, you certainly are now. “...You think I’m deserving, then?”

Your companion spreads your legs wider, easing himself into the space between as he holds your thighs firmly in his hands. Joshua stares into your eyes with a gaze that’s meant to devour. You’ve always found it odd how much self-control he can actually exercise. Apart from the first night he tried to pounce on you, and that little escapade in the dressing room, he never once tried to make any moves on you again. For someone who talks big about how possessive and territorial he can be, Joshua is being awfully ascetic.

“Of course you are,” he murmurs. “Once we’re done here, I’ll bring you to the best tattoo artist in L.A. He’s the one who did both of my pieces.”

Something about the promise in his words makes your heart leap with delight. He’s…going to bring you to Los Angeles?

“Are you going to let me meet your parents, too?” you half-joke, shying away from his intense gaze.

“Why not?” he asks. “My mom loves independent girls. You’ve only been relying on yourself before you met me, right? That’s pretty awesome.”

You shrink away from the compliment, unused to being praised about that segment of your life. “I’m not sure how she’s going to react about me being a hostess, though.”

Joshua shakes his head. “Believe it or not, you’re one of the few people who can put me in my place, sweet girl. I’m convinced that she automatically takes to someone like that.”

“So you’re a problem child, then?”

“Ehh, can’t say I’m not.”

Just when you thought he’ll finally let his self-restraint snap, you and Joshua end up talking about his life in America by the poolside. He tells you about how his father taught him how to fish in the lake the next county over, how to hunt and survive out in the wilderness. He tells you about his mother, and how he’d do anything just to guarantee her safety; even if it comes at the expense of his own. He willingly divulges all his fond memories of his hometown, but not once does Joshua allude to anything involving his work.

You try not to take it so personally. After all, in spite of the drastic development in your…friendship? Relationship? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re someone he hasn’t really known all that long.

But as the two of you marvel at the twilight sun sinking on the faraway horizon, it seems that Joshua managed to read your mind.

“Can you believe it’s only been two weeks since we met?” he chuckles, hand inching closer to rest on top of yours.

“Nope,” you sigh. “I feel like I’ve known you far longer than that.”

“Heh. Time really flies when you’re having fun, does it?”

You couldn’t have said it better yourself. Honestly, you can’t even recall the last time you had fun. During the past few months, each day passed by painfully slowly. Despite being adored as Rei the hostess, you never had fun back at the bar; nor did you have fun coming home to your alcoholic of a father.

As you glance over at Joshua – whose face is generously lit up by the soft orange light – you wonder if it’s really okay to turn your back on your life and just live the rest of your days by his side. It’s only been two weeks, but there was never a dull moment with him. But can you even afford to be more selfish than you already are?

“You really have a staring problem, you know that?”

“...Do you have a sixth sense or something?”

“I’m a trained fighter, princess. I’m supposed to know when I’m being watched.”

There it is – his first casual mention of his line of work.

You can’t exactly narrow down the possibilities of what exactly it is that Joshua does for a living. You’re pretty sure that he’s in the same type of business as those loan sharks, but on a much larger scale. What’s more is that he’s trained to fight – as if his purpose lies more on confrontation than diplomatic relations. Him being stationed all the way here in Korea gives you a slight clue that he might be trying to settle the score with someone on behalf of his employer, though you can’t really say for sure.

But…you purposely shove all these thoughts in the back of your head as you lace your fingers around his neck – bringing his forehead against yours. Joshua doesn’t resist your advances. He even gazes at you with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, a hint of fondness shining in his vibrant irises.

Before meeting the man in front of you, you’ve always assumed that love takes time. You can’t call it love if you don’t even know the person that well! This is the very same thing you used to tell patrons who wanted to start a serious relationship with you back at the bar. But Joshua?

You don’t know how, but he managed to fill that void that’s long been tearing your heart to shreds. That seemingly ephemeral emptiness; the hollow space resting deep inside your chest – he filled it all up in the span of two weeks. Whether it be with all those expensive gifts and trinkets, or his worthwhile company alone, you don’t feel empty anymore. You feel so blissfully whole that you’d gladly lose yourself in him if it meant you never had to feel alone ever again.

“Shua, can I ask for something?”

“Heh. This is new. You never ask for anything,” he comments, and you still smell traces of tobacco in his breath. “What is it? Anything my princess wants, I’ll give to her in a heartbeat.”

On any other day, you would’ve chided him for saying something so cheesy – as if you haven’t gotten used to the way he speaks to you. But now, with the early evening breeze blowing all around, and the man who reminded you how it feels to be alive sitting so, so close to you…

“Can you make me yours?” you whisper.

Joshua stares at you, a low laugh rumbling in his bare chest. “You were already mine the moment you asked to come with me. Or are you forgetting that?”

Hot. His hands are hot against your hips – going lower and lower as he teases the ridge of your bottoms. God, you just want him to get it over with. You want him to grab your ass and take you by the poolside right here, right now. But you know, all too well, that Joshua isn’t going to let himself fall into the depths of his own depravity like that. Not until you give him a clearer sign.

“No…” you murmur, hoisting your thigh over his hips until you’re straddling his lap. “I want you –” You press your breasts against his lean chest. “To make me –” Your fingers trail up his neck, tangling them in his wild black hair.

“Yours.”

You expect him to tease you like he always does – with that irritatingly handsome smile of his. But Joshua's eyes grow half-lidded as you press yourself closer to him, and you could’ve sworn his grip on your hips only became tighter.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl,” he warns you huskily. “I don’t want you to end up being the sore loser after I’m done with you.”

You chuckle, lips grazing his forehead, his eyelids, his nose. When you reach the spot just over his lips, you let your own hover for just a few seconds longer.

“I know,” you tell him. “I know, and I’m ready to lose.”

If it’s you, I won’t ever mind.

Joshua lets out a strangled noise, like he’s barely holding on to what’s left of his own sanity. You’re slightly elated at the information. That just means he’s about to let himself go. To ravage you like you deserved.

You’re not sure if it’s because of his own urgency or he’s just showing off. But Joshua makes a quick display of strength by picking you up while you’re still on his lap and getting back on his feet at the same time. He wastes no time mending your lips together – carnal and hungry and all sorts of impatient. Your legs immediately circle around his hips, and you bemoan all the days you wasted not getting kissed stupid by him.

But you console yourself with the idea that right now, you have all the time in the world.

...

The floorboards are damp with pool water, and so are the sheets. But you hardly notice it as Joshua strips you of the swimsuit he so carefully picked out for you. He tosses the spandex somewhere on the floor, and you even hear the wet plop as it hits.

You feel like you should be cold – fresh out of the swimming pool and all – but the heat of Joshua’s body steadily permeates into yours, and can’t help but lean closer, closer, as close as you can –

“I love you,” you whisper in-between kisses, feeling the evidence of his own arousal grinding against your own. You think the words don’t have as much weight when you’re doing something so openly intimate, but you don’t care.

He laughs, the sound sending tingles straight to your toes. “You sure you’re not just getting caught up in the moment, princess?”

You still have it in you to flash him a sulky pout, bringing his face right in front of yours as you spare him all the adoration you have in a single look. You desperately want him to know just how much you love him. You want him to carve this moment into memory and think of it even when the two of you are apart.

You want to anchor yourself so deep into Joshua that he can’t forget you even if he tries.

“Do you think I’m lying?” you whisper.

He sighs. “No.”

When he mouths the words I love you back in his own lust-fueled kisses, your heart soars; your body heats up – becoming more and more receptive to his lingering touch. Joshua’s lips never stray too far, even as he lathers the slick that’s collected between your thighs. His long fingers tease your entrance with the intention of seeing you squirm, and you hate how much you love it.

“Been waiting for you to come to me…for so long,” he growls, sliding two fingers inside you with embarrassing ease. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? Especially after that time in the dressing room?”

Huh, so even he still thinks about that day. You giggle at the ferociousness of his words, but the wanton look in his eyes softens when you caress the side of his face.

“Two weeks isn’t a long time, Shua,” you tell him.

“It’s long enough if you’re as pent up as I am.”

As he works his fingers between your thighs, you can’t help but sneak a glance at the hard length straining against his abdomen. It’s been a while, so your mouth practically waters at the thought of Joshua sinking his thick cock inside you – fast and hard and everything you’ve ever dreamed.

But your attention is promptly ripped away when he curls his fingers just right, catching on a patch of spongy flesh that has you writhing underneath him. Joshua smirks at that, uncoiling his thick digits as he continues slowly pumping them inside. Your juices are starting to drip on his hand – a testament to just how badly you want him.

When he makes you come, all you see are the vibrant brown of his eyes – like honey in the spring. Joshua looks at you with so much love and longing at the same time, you nearly sob in his embrace.

Despite the implication that he’s no longer going to be patient, Joshua lets you reel your own consciousness back from the throes of pleasure – kissing your forehead tenderly as he caresses your sides.

“Do you want to go all the way?” he asks, but you already see him stroking his own cock from where he lays beside you. “Remember, I won’t force you into anything you don’t like, princess.”

You shake your head, still lightheaded from your orgasm. But still, the clarity of your desire shines through. “I…want you, Shua. Want you inside me.”

He sighs in a way like he just doesn’t know what to do with you. At your request, Joshua reluctantly peels himself away – earning a mewl in protest from you that he appeases with a kiss.

“Stay put, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you feel good in a minute.”

Joshua climbs out of bed and walks over to the dresser buck naked. But you can’t even bring yourself to tease because he’s got such a shapely ass. Not to mention, you get to see the dragon tattoo on his back again. Even if you’ve developed a fondness for the twin koi fish on his chest, there’s just something about this piece in particular that’s always left an impression on you.

True to his word, Joshua comes back to bed with you as he tears a condom open with his teeth. You have half the mind to tell him that opening it like that isn’t very safe, but when he rolls the rubber on top of his throbbing length, you’re suddenly too bashful to speak up.

He spreads your thighs apart, making himself at home in the space in between. You just know he’s getting a kick out of the way your body trembles as he rubs the head of his cock along your glistening seam.

“Shua,” you whine.

“You want this inside you?” Joshua teases, dipping himself into your entrance only to pull away before you can even feel an ounce of satisfaction. “C’mon, talk to me, princess. You know I like it when you’re being honest about the things you want.”

“Please…”

“Hm? What was that?”

You hate him. You hate him so much that the feeling gradually bleeds into love. And if you aren’t already whipped for this jerk, you don’t know what this obsessive feeling inside you is anymore.

“Please fuck me,” you whimper. “Make me come on your cock.”

Joshua breathes sharply through his nose as he leans forward, grabbing both of your wrists as he pins them above your head with one hand. He uses the other to guide his length to where you want him most, and the moment before he finally, finally breaches your entrance, he whispers:

“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”

He muffles the broken moan that catches in your throat with his own lips – his lean arm going around your waist as he presses his hips flush against yours. You’re dripping enough arousal onto the sheets that Joshua doesn’t even have to take it as slow as he expected. You instinctively clench around the hard length inside you, memorizing the way he stretches out your walls, and Joshua responds in earnest with an impertinent groan.

There’s no room for words anymore. All you know is the sound of skin against skin and your mouth almost never parting from his. Joshua fills you until the void you feared might swallow you whole becomes nothing but a tiny speck in your soul. You wonder if it’s enough to be two separate people, and not just one. His touches, his kisses – they aren’t enough. And even when he pushes himself so impossibly deep, you still find yourself wanting, craving, yearning for more.

You’re insatiable. You love Joshua so much that your heart overflows with it. Maybe you’re simply deluded because he’s the first person who’s treated you like you were important; and not just some forgettable girl he met at a bar. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want him to hold you, and touch you, and love you until you forget everything else but the syllables of his name.

He practically folds you into the bed a few moments later as he mouths his professions of love along the curve of your neck. You lock your legs around his waist to keep him as close as possible – not wanting to be apart for even a millisecond. And Joshua seems to share the same sentiments as he embraces so you’d never leave his grasp.

I need you, you wish to tell him. He’s already giving you so much and more, but you still need him. It’s the kind of hankering that nearly scares you because how can you ever live without him now? But the flames of your own, all-consuming desire quickly recede once he captures your lips in a soft, almost sensual kiss.

“I love you,” Joshua tells you aloud.

You know it should be impossible because your lovers from the past have never even tried to get you to orgasm once they were done with you. But the moment he utters those words, and shifts his hips at such a delicious angle, he promptly pushes you over the edge – making you thrash and shudder underneath his weight as you mutter his name like a string of prayers.

You just hope that the gods are generous enough to let you have him forever.

…

The beaches in Seoul and Andong pale in comparison to Jeju's – you promptly realize this when Joshua brings you out to the shore a few days later.

“I’ve never really enjoyed going to beaches until now,” you admit, laughing a bit as Joshua reaches for your hand and twines his fingers with yours. “I’m surprised you even have the time to come all the way here despite being on the job.”

He shrugs casually, and at the same time you care to admire how he looks in a tropical-printed button up that’s completely undone at the front. “Well, my deadline isn’t all that strict, pretty girl. I’m sure I can afford a quick getaway with you.”

You smile at him sweetly while the both of you stroll along the beachfront. Sometimes, the waves reach out to the shore far enough for the water to reach your toes, and you squeal in delight every time you do. You’d be lying if you say you didn’t expect Joshua to tease, but when you look at him, he merely looks back like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Like all lovers spending their morning on the beach, the two of you agreed to collect the prettiest seashells you can find. Though it was a bit hard, since there are a couple of signs indicating which ones you’re allowed to bring home, and which ones you should leave alone. Something about maintaining the ecosystem around the shore.

But about half an hour before lunch time, Joshua calls out to you at the edge of the property.

The sundress he made you wear today flutters around your thighs as you make your way to his side. He’s crouched down on the sand as he picks up a peculiar brown shard.

“Wait,” you start, taking a closer look. “Is that a seashell? A broken seashell?”

“Seems like it,” he replies, retrieving the other pieces he can still salvage from the sand. “This doesn’t look like all the others we’ve seen though”

Joshua takes your hand and pressing the fragments into your palm. When you take a look at them, you realize the pieces are the same color as his eyes.

“Do you…” you begin shyly, “want to make matching necklaces out of them? They’re a bit jagged now, but I know a jeweler back in Andong who –”

“Oh? So you do want to go back,” he jokes.

“Fine, never mind then.”

Joshua’s laughter is slightly muted by the oncoming waves. Once your momentary annoyance fades, the two of you sit on the sand with your legs sprawled – letting the water tickle your toes.

“I know I made a pretty bad joke just now, but can I ask you something?” he wonders.

“What is it?”

“It’s about the loan your dad supposedly took without your knowledge.” Joshua starts tracing idle shapes in the sand as he speaks. “You seemed in deep shit the night I met you, and I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

With his money and influence, you’re sure that Joshua could pull a few strings to get those debt collectors to lay off you. But it won’t really matter if you never go back to Andong, right? Still, you tell him about the five million won that your father suddenly loaned. How those loan sharks told you that he said that you’re going to pay for it all – on top of your remaining balance for the month. Just recalling it was already enough to piss you off all over again.

At the end of your story, though, Joshua ends up snorting with amusement.

“Sounds to me like you’re being tricked, princess,” he chuckles. “No one can rack up a debt that high unless you’re a trusted confidant. I’m sure the Korean mafia has limits to how much they’re willing to loan other people at a certain given time. Those loan sharks probably tricked you and forged the document because you were paying out the previous debt properly.”

Your jaw practically drops to the ground. “They tricked me?”

“Seems like it. And now, you have grounds for a lawsuit! Maybe. I’m not sure, but I can help you pay for a lawyer if it all gets down to it.” Joshua shrugs. “Anyway, now that you know that the loan was probably a scam, why don’t you go back and talk to your old man? Isn’t he the only family you have?”

Your dad… Well, now you feel a bit bad for judging him so harshly. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s an alcoholic and a gambler, but you do see him trying to be better from time to time.

“Yeah. My mom died when I was in high school, and it’s just been us ever since.” You tell him all this without meeting his eyes, unsure of how to react if he gazes at you with pity. But Joshua doesn’t offer his condolences, nor does he try to cheer you up. Instead, he suggests something that you probably should do.

“You should go back to your father,” he whispers. “I’m sure he’s worried sick.”

The waves wash upon the shore again, and this time, you actually turn around to look at him. Is he serious? Is this the same, so-called territorial man you met two weeks ago? If any of the things he’s told you were true, that’s the last thing you expected for Joshua to say to your face.

“If your father isn’t behind that loan fiasco, then you should at least let him know you’re okay, princess,” he tells you sincerely, rubbing your hand with comforting circles. “You’re the last family he has left, and I’m sure you know what loss does to a person.”

You sit there in the silence, letting Joshua’s words simmer inside your mind. You suppose that he’s right about everything. Those assumptions you made about your father are unfair, and you shouldn’t just abandon him now that Joshua helped clear up the misunderstanding. You know all these things, and you recognize them as what’s truthful and right.

But…why does Joshua sound like he’s saying goodbye?

“Okay, I’ll do that,” you say, forcing your voice not to tremble. “But once you finish your mission, promise that you’ll take me to L.A.?”

He stares at you with equal parts surprise and disbelief – his handsome face twisting with a grin so lovely, you wonder why he never smiled at you like this before. Joshua shakes his head before rising back to his feet, hoisting you up by your waist as he spins you around.

You shriek in bewilderment, telling him to put you back down. He doesn’t relent right away, but once Joshua finally heeds your desperate request he sets you down on the sand – placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, princess. What do you want to do there?”

You puff out your cheeks, not liking how it sounds as if he’s teasing you. Nonetheless, you give him the straightest answer you can manage.

“I want to meet your family. Your parents. Your friends. Everyone,” you tell him. “I want to go fishing because you love it so much, and it helps you meditate.”

Joshua hums. “America is leagues different from Korea, though. You sure about that?”

“Hmph. You’ll make a nice tour guide, won't you?”

“Heh.” He moves closer to wrap his arms around your frame, embracing you so firmly that you can’t help but melt into his touch. “Of course I will, pretty girl. But what do you want to do after we do all that?”

You flash him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Since we’re planning so far ahead, we might as well plan until the end, right?” He chuckles, one hand going to the side of your face as he touches you tenderly. “What else does my demanding princess wish for?”

For a moment, you consider his question seriously. What happens after? Well…

“I want to travel,” you say. “I took up an international relations course when I was in college ‘cause I always wanted to see the world.”

Joshua nods. “And?”

You gulp – unsure if what you’re about to say is a bit selfish or not. “Well, getting to see some places around Korea with you was the best time of my life. And I’m sure it’ll be just as fun if we see the world together.”

It sounds like such a juvenile dream, now that you think about it. But sometimes, even the most childish desires can lead to the most unforgettable experiences. You only decided to tag along with Joshua on a whim, and it turned out to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made.

You just hope he feels the same way, too.

He nods again, a pesky smile rooting itself on his face. When Joshua kisses the hand that isn’t clutching shards of broken brown seashells, you can’t help but blush.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”

It’s already high noon by the time the two of you conclude your seashell hunting session, and Joshua is already complaining about breakfast not being heavy enough. You let your gaze linger around the beautiful beachfront just a bit longer, wondering if you can visit this place again with him in the future.

“Joshua?”

He pauses mid-way in his rant, gazing at you with curious, brown eyes. “Yeah?”

You crack him a warm smile. “Can you tell me your real name?”

The ocean’s waves reach your ears again in the silence, as Joshua stands in front of you like you’d just unraveled all the secrets of the universe. You don’t miss the way his emotions seemingly conflict in his eyes, but in the end, he spares you the truth anyway.

“Jisoo.”

“Do you love me, Jisoo?”

He crosses the distance between you before you can even breathe, kissing you so deeply that you’re a little concerned that some of the hotel staff might be watching and judging you on the sidelines. But you know better than to give a damn about what others think when you’re with Joshua – no, Jisoo.

When he pulls away, you can almost see the ocean glimmering in your lover’s eyes.

“More than anything in the world.”

...

Despite that romantic morning, you can’t help but feel like something bad’s about to happen. Your mother used to tell you that you should always trust your gut. And right now, your gut is telling you that everything that’s making you unbelievably happy right now is going to disappear right before your eyes.

The anxiousness that comes with all that foreboding does little to help you keep up appearances, too. During dinner, Joshua – because he asked you to keep calling him that in public for your own safety – was telling you about the time he almost got run over as a kid, and you completely spaced out in the middle of it.

Of course, your sharp-eyed lover is keen enough to notice just how distracted you were. You attempted to make excuses for your lack of focus, but one thing led to another, and you ended up spilling wine all over your new sundress.

And now here you are, sulking in your bedroom as Joshua makes the arrangements to have your dress dry-cleaned on the intercom before you have to leave.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice comes out so softly, you nearly miss it. He sits with you at the edge of the bed, reaching out to clasp your hand in his much larger ones. The gesture is comforting, but your unease doesn’t fade away.

Should you tell him about this weird gut feeling? But you don’t want him to worry about you when this is probably just something trivial. Yet, you’ve always been weak to your own emotions. Before you can even cook up another half-baked excuse, the tears have already started streaming down your face.

“Everything’s going so well,” you sniffle, turning to him with misty eyes. “Y-You’re right in front of me but… Why do I feel like you’re already slipping away?”

Joshua's face doesn’t betray any sort of emotion. His honeyed eyes merely flicker down to where your hands are intertwined, and you don’t know if you should take that as a good sign or not.

“I’ll always be with you, you know,” he whispers, letting one of his hands trail up to the new necklace sitting on your throat before the other moves to wipe away your tears. “Always.”

A traveling jeweler offered to fashion a necklace out of the seashell fragments you found once you got back from the beachfront. And while this isn’t the work of your acquaintance from Andong, they managed to carve out the shell to resemble a heart. They even charged you for the labor only, and gave the chain for free. At first, you wanted to refuse, but these pesky feelings were already bothering you at the beach.

Is it so bad for you to want a tangible representation of Joshua’s promises?

The fact that he wears a similar necklace eases your troubles a bit. It makes you think that maybe it’s really all just in your head. Though you know better than to think you’re out of the woods.

That night, he undresses you with unspoken apologies imbued in each kiss. You wonder if he’s sorry for unintentionally making you feel this way or something else. You don’t know. You don’t care. Because when you’re on the verge of collapsing from all these unpleasant feelings, it’s Joshua who holds you together before you can shatter into a thousand pieces at his feet.

That’s right… Joshua – rather, Jisoo always fills you to the brim. He fills you with so much love that you can almost forget what it feels to be void; what it feels to be empty.

But in the midst of it, he pulls away with a regretful sigh. “We already used up the condoms I have, princess. This is as far as we can go.”

“It’s – It’s alright.”

He snaps his head in your direction, beautiful brown eyes rigid with shock. But you don’t give him any leeway to feel guilt nor hesitation. When you pull him down with you to the bed, he doesn’t strain against your touch.

Jisoo is the reason why the life you thought was so dull suddenly has more color to it now. He taught you to have a little more hope for the future. To reevaluate the past for what it actually is. And most of all, he’s the one who taught you how to treasure yourself as you are in the present.

If this is the last night you’ll ever share with him, then you’re going to make the most out of it.

...

“So we hop on a plane to Incheon, a train to Andong, and talk to my dad.” You list down the day’s itinerary before glancing at Joshua for confirmation. “Sounds like a plan, right?”

“I dunno, princess. Meeting the parents always makes me nervous,” he chuckles.

“...So you have met the parents of other girls.”

“Hey, that was only one time!”

You and Joshua managed to head over to the airport fairly quickly the next day – with a lot of time to kill before your plane actually leaves the island. The two of you decide to hang out in the waiting lounge, but this reminds you to not be too early for your flights next time. Apart from those weird negative feelings you had last night, boredom is your greatest enemy.

About thirty minutes before boarding time, you carelessly let slip that you’re craving some coffee right now. Joshua is quick to get on his feet and get you one from a nearby vending machine, of course. But just when he’s about to take a seat right beside you, he blurts out:

“I’m really glad I met you, princess.” He smiles, handing you your drink. “Even if you’re growing more and more bratty as the days go by.”

“You’re the one who made me like this, so deal with it.” You huff, before following it up with a much nicer: “But…I’m glad I met you, too, Jisoo.”

You half-expect him to clamp a hand around your mouth for calling him by his real name, but Joshua simply lets his head rest against your shoulder, holding your hand as tenderly as he always does.

“Hey, I’m just going to go out for a real quick smoke.”

Joshua informs you of his unnecessary need for a cancer stick just when you’ve settled into your seat on the plane. You scowl at him as he places that knapsack full of cash into your arms.

“We’re about to take off, you idiot!” you whisper. “Can’t that wait until we land in Seoul?”

“Nope.” He beams at you. “I won’t be long, don’t worry~”

And then he’s off.

“Goddamn chainsmokers,” you mutter, angrily plopping the damn backpack to the vacant seat right next to you.

As you watch the scenery in the airport unfold from the window to your left, you catch sight of your own reflection despite the bright light outside. Your hands trail up to the modified seashell around your neck, twirling it fondly between your fingers. This is the first solid proof of the time you spent with Joshua. You’re sure that he’s going to spoil you with even more gifts when you get to L.A., but this one is probably going to be your favorite for a long, long time.

After all, this seashell is the same color as his eyes.

Suddenly, you hear a clicking sound coming from above, and when you glance around, you see that the seatbelt sign is lit up. A soft voice flits through the speakers, informing all passengers that the aircraft is ready for takeoff. Frowning deeply, you call the attention of a nearby attendant.

“Excuse me, my boyfriend isn’t here yet.”

She stares at you, puzzled. “I’m sorry, miss. But we confirmed that all paid passengers are already in their seats.”

At that second, your world crumbles. The void begins to rip itself back into your heart. The attendant asks if there’s anything wrong, but you dismiss her with a shake of your head.

Why do I feel like you’re slipping away from my fingers?

As you sit all alone in that plane, you realize that your mother was right all along.

You should’ve trusted your goddamn gut.

...

Joshua smokes through half his pack of cigarettes when he makes it outside the airport – lingering by the parking lot as he watches each plane soar into the sky. He has no idea which one you’re on, or if you’re even still here on Jeju Island. But with each painful drag he forces into his lungs, he finds himself praying.

Praying that you’ll forgive him for what he just did. Praying that you’ll be able to find happiness even without him.

His phone rings before his guilt gets the better of his emotions. The name S.Coups flashes on the encrypted caller ID.

“Took you long enough to pick up,” the informant sighs. “For someone who’s in dire need of intelligence, you’re acting awfully lax, Shua. Let’s see… You’re looking for Jeonghan. Is that right?”

He kills his last cigarette under his heel – all those feelings you effortlessly stirred up inside him dying along with the waning flame.

“Bullseye,” he replies, voice tinged with his usual mirth despite feeling like he’s just lost everything good in his life. “You got anything for me?”

Yeah, that’s right.

You don’t need someone like him to be happy.

…

The hotel room you booked for the night is small and quiet.

When you shut the door behind you, the sound rings in your ears – loud enough to emphasize that you’re all alone. You decide not to pay it any mind before dragging the rest of your luggage further inside.

When you arrived at Incheon Airport a few hours earlier, you couldn’t even muster up the tears. All you felt was that familiar emptiness that never seemed to leave you alone until Joshua came into your life. A dreadful void that was twice as massive now that you got a taste of how it feels like to be whole.

Once you’ve claimed your baggage, you wasted no time ushering yourself out of the terminal. You’ve long decided to stay in Incheon for a while, given that you couldn’t exactly meet your father in such a state. But before making your way to the nearest hotel you could find, you made it a point to stop by a convenience store to buy a lighter and pack of cigarettes.

For someone who’s more loaded than you could ever hope to be, Joshua liked smoking cheap brands. He told you it’s because those things could easily be bought anywhere. But his reasons for the odd preference were the last thing on your mind as you light up the first stick – taking a long drag that ends up making you cough out smoke and brings tears in your eyes.

You fucking hate cigarettes. This is going to be one of the cold hard truths in your life. You hated them when you still worked as a hostess, and you hated them every time Joshua had the gall to smoke one in front of you.

…But this is the only piece of him that you have left to cling to. You like to think that each stick can help fill the void, even if it’s just smoke and ashes and false hopes. You always wondered why Joshua couldn’t bring himself to forego the habit. But maybe – just maybe – there’s also a void inside him. One that can’t easily be filled, the same one you’ve always struggled with.

Before that train of thought can fester any longer, you kill it along with the fifth cancer stick you’ve had for the day. The ashtray is full of cigarettes you could barely smoke past the filter, but you’re not about to give a shit.

In the solitude of your room, you wonder if you can ever forget those sunsets in Jeju. How your toes sank into the sand. How the salty ocean breeze tossed your hair around. If you close your eyes, you can still feel it on your skin.

But most of all, you ask yourself – can you ever forget Jisoo?

His eyes. His hair. His stupid tattoos. You abhorred how he always smelled like cigarettes, yet you’ve locked yourself up in some fancy hotel room to smoke a few just because you’re left with a ridiculous amount of laundered cash. Along with the bags full of those pretentious gifts he gave you, you selfishly kept the money because you deserve the goddamn means to take a real break from it all.

You don’t pay attention to the rest of your luggage – eyes solely focused on the knapsack lying idly on the mattress. Against your better judgment, you force yourself back to your feet, padding towards the bed as you open the zipper.

Cash, cash, another wad of cash. You scoop every single piece out of the bag for no real reason. Is this solving any of your problems? No. Does it help you vent out your feelings? Yes.

Stupid Jisoo, and his stupid fucking promises. Well, he never explicitly promised you anything, but still! What kind of evil maniac lets a hapless maiden fall in love with them, only to leave them hanging? Not all unfortunate ladies who’ve been pathetically led on by a handsome man were left with hundreds of thousands of won as some sort of compensation, sure. But that didn’t change the fact that you were fucking grieving.

You wanted to shout. To break something. To curse Jisoo Whatever-his-last-name-is so he can never find another woman like you. But once you reach the bottom of the knapsack, your anger is quick to go up in smoke.

There’s a red baseball cap inside – the same one Jisoo was wearing the night you met him.

You didn’t cry when you realized the love of your life had left you without saying goodbye. You didn’t cry as you carried your luggage alone in the airport. You didn’t cry either when you marched into this lonely, lonely hotel room.

But somehow, seeing that bright red cap made everything crash over you like a tidal wave.

“I thought you loved me more than anything in the world,” you murmur to yourself, holding that silly hat to your chest like a goddamn lifeline.

“Was that a hoax all along...Jisoo?”

...

The small village near Silverwood Lake is remote yet accessible at the same time. It’s the heart of tourism in the lesser known counties in California, so it comes as no surprise to see a dozen people bustling in and out of the borders.

In that same town, a young boy with big brown eyes wanders around the market – dark tufts peeking from beneath a tattered baseball cap. Though he seems like any other local his age, he doesn't actually know the language. His English is still a bit lacking, but he swears half of the time that his mother teaches him bits and pieces when she has time.

Right now, she’s somewhere by the lakeside, talking with an important political figure in the town as his entourage shows her around the area. The boy wasn’t a fan of all those pleasantries, so he asked her if he could look around in the market instead. Like all mothers, her initial reaction was to tell him no, but eventually, the puppy eyes he’s practiced on her for years made good on their purpose.

Fine. Just don’t wander too far, Shuji. Promise?

As much as he dislikes breaking promises with his mother – he knows how sensitive she is about those, despite her age – the young boy figures that what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. He’s fifteen now. Even if he’s in a foreign country, he’s smart enough not to get lost in unfamiliar places.

So, when he finds nothing interesting in the market, the boy follows a merchant’s route that bypasses a huge forest. This is the road that he and his mother took on the way to the town, so he’s slightly familiar with the terrain. But still, the perspectives are warped when one traverses it on foot.

He follows the route just like he initially planned – admiring the looming pine trees rising everywhere he looked. His mother has taken him to all sorts of places because of her job, but America might make it to the top of his list at this rate. Though, his eyes are quick to spot a fork in the road – one barely visible unless you know what you’re looking for.

The boy glances around, but no one else is in sight.

Ravens caw overhead as he traverses the stray path. Dead leaves and crunch underfoot as the trees seem to grow thicker around him. Anyone else would feel terrified of being in such a place, but the boy has always had a knack for braving the unknown.

His courage is rewarded once he arrives at the end of the road, revealing a magnificent lake that he could never hope to see if he’d stuck to the main route. This one's different from Silverwood Lake. It's much smaller, and less polluted by civilization.

He stares at the scenery with wide eyes, taking out his phone from the pocket of his jacket before snapping a few pictures to show his mother for later.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here?”

The boy startles at the sound of another voice, and he realizes that there’s another person sharing this view with him. A man, much older than he is, sits on a foldable chair by the edge of the lake – fishing rod in hand as he tosses the reel into the water.

“Just…looking around.” He only replies with broken English because he doesn’t think the stranger is someone sketchy. The boy even notices the sturdy looking crutch propped against his seat. “What are you doing?”

For a moment, the man simply looks at him before surprising the boy with very fluent Korean.

“Fishing. What else do you think it looks like, kid?” the man says a-matter-of-factly as he rakes his fingers through his dark yet graying hair.

He gulps before switching to his mother tongue. “There’s fish underneath?”

“Of course there's fish underneath.” The fisherman rolls his eyes. “You’re not from around here, are you? You lost?”

The boy shakes his head. “I told you, I was just looking around.”

“Okay. Tell your parents to come get you then,” the man tells him – growing slightly annoyed at his peaceful fishing session having been interrupted.

“My mother’s busy. My father’s a scumbag who left her alone.” The young boy shrugs. “I’m pretty much free to do whatever I want, mister.”

A few moments pass by in silence, and he wonders if he said something strange. But either way, the man’s irritation morphs into amusement. “Shitty dad, huh?” he chuckles. “That’s right. Don’t ever forgive the people who’d hurt your mom. What’s your name, kid?”

The stranger jolts his fishing rod before the boy can give an answer, hauling a fish out of the water right before his eyes before dumping his latest catch in a wicker basket.

“Jisoo,” the boy tells him. “But my mom calls me Shuji”

To his surprise, the man simply nods. “Cool name.”

“Aren’t you going to say it’s weird or something?”

“Now you’re just asking too many questions.”

“My mom said it’s common courtesy to exchange names on the first meeting,” the boy huffs. “So are you going to tell me or not?”

The man sighs. “You’re really demanding for a kid. Kinda reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“...I’m leaving.”

“Ah! Wait a sec, lemme just pack up and I’ll head back to the harbor with you. If you wander around, you might just get mauled by the wolves,” the man tuts, already putting away his reel before folding his chair back up. That’s when the boy notices a glint of brown attached to a cord around his neck. He squints.

Has he seen that necklace before?

But there isn’t exactly much room to ponder about that. The man is struggling to tidy up on both feet – clearly unfit to protect anyone from woodland predators. The boy wonders if he’s injured himself so badly before that the aftermath still lingers. But still, he finds it a bit awkward to just stand around, so he walks over to him with a defeated sigh, offering to carry the fish basket and chair in his stead.

“What happened to your leg?” he wonders.

The man brushes the hair out of his face, looking forward as he leans on his crutch. “Got fucked up by a bunch of…gangsters a few years back. Haven’t been the same since.”

“...My mom knows a lot of doctors all over the world,” the boy says. “I’m sure she can find someone who can help you walk normally again.”

“Hm? Aren’t you being too generous to someone you just met, kid?”

He frowns. “I was taught by mom to treat everyone with basic decency.”

“Heh. You really love your mom, don’t you? Does she travel a lot?”

“For work, yeah. She’s a diplomat.”

The boy wonders if this is really okay. His mother might just be mortified at the thought of her only son talking to a stranger like they’ve known each other for years. But there’s just something about this man that he can’t quite pin down. Something that makes it easy to talk to him, even if they only met literally ten minutes earlier.

Well, his mother was looking for fresh catches to have for dinner anyways. Maybe she’ll let his penchant for making friends in unlikely places slide once he introduces her to this strange fisherman with fucked up legs.

⟢ end notes: if you made it this far, congrats UEYRUEF I KNOWWWW i have a shit ton of wips waiting in line, but i've been contemplating abt repurposing this fic for joshua for SOOOOO LONG. after hearing some advice from a few friends, i decided to just go for it and viola! 18k words shua angst was born out of nowhere. i felt so EMPTY the first time i finished writing it, so i hope you feel the same way too :3c

#svthub #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #svt fanfic #svt smut #joshua smut #seventeen joshua #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #lovelyhan #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

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"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release.

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger fanfiction #ti penso universe #ti penso uni

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bingwriterxo · 3 months

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announcement

hello, my little bings.

the time has come for me to make this announcement. i've been avoiding actually writing this, but it's time to give y'all an explanation.

i've been mulling over this idea for weeks now, and i've since made the decision to retire (why do i sound like an old man?). i know i've said time and time again that i would be back to posting regularly, because i truly believed i would be, but i've honestly lost all motivation in regards to writing fics. what once used to be fun for me has turned into something i barely look at, and i do mourn that fact.

i'm sorry to my scholars who were looking forward to part 10 of the shakespeare exhibit, but if we're being honest, that fic is so fluffy there never would have been a set end. i feel happy with leaving it where it stands now as an ending.

this blog will still be up. it'll probably always be up. i want you guys to still be able to have a space to indulge, and i couldn't imagine taking this away from you.

i really am sorry about this. i am so appreciative for all the love i've garnered and the fanbase that has formed around me. i love each and every one of you.

thank you for being around while i was, and for being around after i stop posting.

all my love forever,

bing.

#bingspeaks #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #amber freeman x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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fayes-fics · 6 months

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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