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lukesaprince · 2 days

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Rich Part 21

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The truth is revealed and extenuating circumstances lead to y/n spilling the beans about her and Harry.

Warning: HELLA SMUT!! Daddy!kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk (degradation and praise ofc), spanking, spitting kink, creampie, mentions of death (specifically a child) and grieving, poor mental health.

Word count: 17k+

Author's note: I recommend reading Part 20 before this one as it's a direct continuation! Part 22 already has 7k words written so I PROMISE you won't have to wait a month to read more of my babies. Enjoy 😚😚

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- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Please… Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His mouth slotted with yours like the final puzzle piece. Smooth and effortless, melting into you while his hand moved from your neck to grab onto your hair. He was simultaneously protecting your head from the door and tugging right at the root of your pretty hair.

The sting had you whimpering into his mouth, hands through his hair and over his chest and just everywhere while you reached up on your tippy toes to kiss back harder. You quite liked feeling smaller than him and Harry loved being bigger than you. Taller than you. Pressing his full body weight into you until all you could feel was him.

“I don’t… I don’t have much time.” You murmured into his mouth, gasping as the kiss broke and he let his mouth skirt over your jaw. You always did have a sensitive neck. It was a sweet spot for you and Harry knew that. At this point he had memorised all your erogenous zones and the little things he did that turned you on and considered himself an expert in how to take advantage of it.

He was always learning new things about you. Every day he found new details about you and fell deeper in love because of it.

“You do.” His smirk curled against your jaw and focused one hand on your hair to tug your head back while the other squeezed over your waist.

“I really don’t. My parents will see my car and wonder where I am. They’d be offended I saw you before them.”

“I think they’d be a little more than offended if they knew what you were doing here. Wouldn’t they, darling?”

Your gasp got caught in your throat, muffled by a moan when he bared his teeth against your neck. His mouth cushioned lower, tracing over what felt like every single inch of your bare skin.

“Probably.” You just hummed in response, letting your eyes flutter closed while you relaxed into the feeling of his soft, wet tongue over your neck.

“What would they say if they knew you called me Daddy, hm? Bet your mother would faint, wouldn’t she? Her darling little y/n.” Harry pulled away so you could watch the way his lips wrapped around each syllable. He pressed his hand over your throat again, keeping you pinned there as he undid the bow of your sweatpants. “Come on, baby. Tell me what she’d say.”

You didn’t think he’d want a response to that when it sounded so rhetorical. More like a tease than something he wanted you to respond back to.

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to-” the words got stuck in your throat when you felt his nimble fingers slide along the waistband of your sweatpants. He smirked at your reaction, scanning every inch of your face while languidly stroking your lower belly. “-to think about it. It's mortifying.”

His eye contact was making you want to pass the fuck out and when his fingers found the band of your underwear you nearly did. You had missed this. The cat and mouse game. The teasing. Though it usually took a lot longer than the time you had.

“It’s not mortifying when you’re doing it, though. Is it, baby?” He cocked his head, maintaining eye contact as he started to trace over your underwear down towards your clit. You shook your head quickly, grabbing onto his forearms.

“Words.” He warned.

“No. No it isn’t.”

“Feels quite… good. Doesn’t it?” He pressed right over your clit, rubbing purposed circles. The friction of your underwear was driving you crazy. But you wanted more and you were a little conscious of the time.

“You know it does.”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I make you feel good. Don’t I?”

The questions were making your head spin. “Yes… yes.”

The friction suddenly disappeared from your clit, but just as you were about to make a noise of disdain, his hands were hoisting your legs up around his waist and he was carrying you through the house to his dining room. He set you down on the edge of the table, reaching in to kiss you deeply just long enough to have you gasping and tugging at his hair.

The kiss broke and his mouth trailed down your neck again. You made a pretty little whimpering sound that had Harry smirking against your skin while he worked on removing your pants properly.

“I love when you do that…” he groaned, nimble fingers sliding along the waistband of your sweats, tucking into them and your underwear at the same time before very easily pulling them down under your ass until they fell to your ankles. The cool air hit your clit instantly, sending a chill down your spine and the tension of your legs that only increased when Harry continued to talk dirty to you. “When you whimper all pretty for me… ‘s my favourite thing in the world. Never takes long either. Could just kiss you and you’d moan for me. Isn’t that right?”

His question hung heavy in the hair but all you could focus on was the sight of him dropping to his knees before you to help guide your feet out of the bottom half of your clothing.

“Uhuh.” You agreed haphazardly, sweeping your hand through his hair at the first touch of his lips against your knee. He kissed down your calf until that ankle was out of your pants then switched sides to do the other, this time kissing up from your ankle to your knee to the sensitive skin of your thigh.

“Why don’t I give you something proper to moan about, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?” Harry let his lips brush against your skin while his hands ran up and down your legs, running his thumbs over your knees like he was about to pry your legs open and dive right in.

Every touch had you breathing heavier, already getting worked up just from a few little kisses. It didn’t help that you were already on edge from his earlier teasing and knowing that things would get a little rougher than usual only made you needier.

Sex always was a bit rougher when ‘daddy’ came into play. Harry took on the role in full force and took full control of the scene. He usually spanked you more, grabbed you more, fucked you harder. Fuck… you hoped he’d spit in your mouth too, maybe smack his ringed fingers over your clit. You could ask for it of course and he’d happily oblige (with a bit of teasing and degradation to accompany your request of course), but it was so much hotter when he just did it. When he owned you and treated you like a hole to use.

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, tugging his hair a little harder. He smirked and nipped at your thigh, grabbing your calves to pull you forward until your legs widened to fit him between them. Grabbing your face suddenly, he squeezed your cheeks roughly until you whined in pain.

“Where are your manners, huh? I thought I taught you better than that.” He tutted, maintaining eye contact while he spit suddenly on the fingers on his other hand before reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Harry didn’t want to stop looking at your pretty eyes for a single second. The moment he found your clit he tapped against it roughly, making your back arch at the repeated sting of his fingers. His saliva only made it hurt more and yet you found yourself loving every second of it.

“Shit.” You cursed, clutching onto his shoulders. The sting had your toes curling, knees dug into either side of his hips in an attempt to curb the ache. “Shit.”

“If you’re a good girl, y/n, you’ll get treated nicely. Don’t you know what happens if you’re not, hm?” He smirked, pressing his palm to your clit while sliding two fingers down through your labia. You were soaked, already dripping for him to do something. Anything. He circled his fingers over your entrance, pressing just enough to make that delicious whimper echo around his kitchen before he dragged them back up to your clit. “Or has it been that long since I put your attitude in check?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Harry repeated the same movements, torturously dragging up and down… up and down from your clit to your entrance without doing anything remotely close to satisfying.

“‘M sorry. I’m sorry Daddy. I got… fuck” you cursed when he nudged over your clit again. It was just a game now, a sadistic little game to see how wet he could get you without actually giving much pleasure. “Excited.”

“Excited? Or selfish?” He cocked his head, grinding his palm to your clit while squeezing your face a little harder. “Being needy doesn’t give you an excuse to be ill mannered.”

“You’re right. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” The words came out as a hushed whimper of strung together desperation. Harry was loving every second of it.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“Gonna let me do anything I want?”

“Anything. Anything.”

His cock stirred at the thought of being able to do anything to you. To have complete control over you. Of course, you truly had the power in the situation, but he loved that you chose to let him take the reigns.

“Open your mouth.”

Harry slid his hand down to your jaw to give you space to move your mouth and as soon as you did, your lips parted just wide enough for him to spit right on your tongue. The sight was obscene. Your tongue sticking out to catch his saliva, his mark, his ownership. Your eyes were all glazed and pretty and you looked happy to take whatever he gave you. You were happy.

He just couldn’t help himself, really. Couldn’t stop himself from getting a taste of your pretty mouth. It would’ve felt wrong not. You were his girl after all. His love. Kissing you was part of the job.

Harry was quick to dart out and clasp his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth so he could rub his saliva over your tongue with his own. It was feral. Sloppy in the best way possible. He slid his tongue against yours, spreading his spit and the new saliva from your kiss everywhere.

You loved when he kissed you sloppy. When it was way too inappropriate for outside eyes. Something just for you. While his tongue told you exactly how he felt about you, he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward until you slid off the table, landing on your unsteady feet.

“Take this off, yeah? Let me see how pretty you are.” He murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak while tugging upwards at the end of your t shirt.

You quickly obeyed and ripped your t shirt off, letting it land on the floor without care. You didn’t bother putting a bra on when you left Lucy’s, not when you were just going home and seeing Harry quickly - or at least you thought it would be quick - so you were left bare. Now you were grateful that you decided to do that, especially from the dark-eyed reaction you gained from your bare breasts being exposed to your lover.

“Fuck baby. Got the prettiest tits ever.” Harry cursed, palming over your exposed breasts while he connected your mouths again.

Your hands found home in his hair, reciprocating happily to his enthusiastic kissing. It was such a power imbalance being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. The anxious part of you hated it and felt so… small. Exposed. The bigger part of you, the one that got off on being submissive and degraded frothed over it. There was no feeling like his fully clothed body against your fully bare one, other than skin to skin contact of course.

That was your favourite.

“Driving me fucking crazy like this.” Harry murmured again, keeping one hand on your breast while the other trailed upwards to the little pearl necklace permanently fixtured on your neck. You only took it off to shower, otherwise it never left your body. You couldn’t bare to part from it because it was a constant reminder of Harry. Like he was always with you.

And you happened to love how possessive he became when his eyes landed on the little string of pearls. How they darkened ever so slightly. When you were in public it turned into a kiss or his hand squeezing your hand or waist, like it triggered some obsessive reaction. You weren’t sure if he caught onto the fact that the necklace somehow pavloved physical touch, but you did.

Sometimes you liked to draw attention to it on purpose to tease him, not that he knew he was being teased. When you were talking you might brush your hair away from your neck or fiddle with the pearls to draw his eyes there. It was fun. A game you were winning even if he didn’t know he was participating.

“And this…” He hooked his finger into the necklace, tugging it gently while simultaneously tugging at your bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “You’ve got no idea how sexy you look with nothing on but this.”

“I never take it off…” You sighed.

“I know. I love you more for it.” He mused, nipping on your neck. “If that’s even possible.” Your head lulled back when he ran his hands down over your body again, landing on your hips where he quickly spun you around to face the table and pressed himself against you. “Love how soft you are too…” He complimented, pressing spongey kisses along your shoulder.

You braced yourself against the table, letting yourself be pushed down flat against it by a gentle hand on the middle of your back.

“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”

His mouth replaced his hand, trailing down until he was crouched behind you. God the sight of you was driving him crazy.

Running his hands over your ass, he pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he released before kissing over to your other cheek. Then he spread you wide, eliciting a gasp when he spanked you and groaned at the way your skin rippled then spread you open again.

“My tongue…”

And then you felt it. His hot tongue met your clit, swiping through your labia right to your tight ring of muscles where he decided to focus his attention. Harry was aware you two didn’t have all the time in the world, but he just couldn’t compromise on his favourite thing. Tasting you.

Your flavour, your scent, how wet you got. Like silky honey dripping down his throat and coating his lips. He was obsessed with it. Which is why he let himself a few moments of flicking his tongue against your ass before he moved down to one of his favourite parts of you. That pretty little clit.

Your moans were like music to his ears. An array of whimpers and whines, pleaded whispers of his name and his honorific. There was nothing like hearing the moan of his name, even moreso when he was being your ‘Daddy’. You were much more pliant, more responsive. He wasn’t sure if it was your submission kicking in more than usual or because your kink was being stroked the entire time.

Either way, he was reaping the benefits.

You were so hot and sweet and were wiggling like a fucking worm in his grip. He had to hold onto your hips harder to keep you still, but that didn’t stop your clenching and trembling when he sucked particularly hard on your clit or fucked his tongue inside you.

So fucking responsive.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. My favourite meal in the world.” He praised, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking a little rougher than usual just so you’d cry out for him.

“Please. Please.” You begged, forehead pressed against the table.

“What?” Harry mused, sliding his tongue toward your entrance and pressing it there. You clenched on impact and he could feel it at the tip of his tongue. All he could think about now was getting inside you. God, he was so hard. So painfully hard.

“Need you. Please, Daddy. Need your cock so bad.” You begged clearly this time, needing to be filled more than anything.

“Yeah? Need it bad, do you?” Harry stood up, kissing your cheek on the way up before he was ridding himself of his clothing. He was already hot and worked up and he knew that the moment his cock touched you he’d be sweating all over. Besides… he wanted to feel you. He wanted to press his chest into your back and feel your thighs against his.

He craved the intimacy of skin to skin like nothing else.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes.” You sighed, nearly screaming in relief when you felt the tip of his cock bump against your clit.

“I’ll give it to you baby…” He soothed, dragging his tip through your folds to collect your wetness over his cock. “I’ve got you…” His tip pressed against your entrance and you swore you could’ve cried when he slowly pushed in. “Shit.”

“Fuck.”

He stretched you slowly, torturously, like he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock. Every vein and ridge and the way he got slowly wider at the base. It wasn’t something you’d feel when he was fucking you roughly, but God it was all you could feel now. The stretch, the ache, the way your knees buckled when his hand pressed into your lower back to keep you still.

And then the slow, tortuous teasing ended and without any warning he drew his hips back and slammed back into you in a way that had your lungs losing all their breath. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers dug tightly so there was this constant ache that seemed to reach its way straight to your soul.

And you fucking loved it. Every bruising thrust, every snapping sound, the way Harry moaned and cursed, telling you exactly how much he liked it. He never was shy from making sounds of pleasure and it was one of the things that made sex with him so hot.

“You’re so tight. Shit, baby. Always so fucking tight around me.”

“Oh God. Harry!”

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He reprimanded with a heavy spank on your ass, the snapping sound echoing throughout the room. “Say the right one. Say it.”

“Daddy.” You moaned pathetically, earning another spank right on the other cheek. The sting was the most satisfying sort of burn, a pain that lingered and ached but only made everything so much better. It fuelled your pleasure, contributing to the orgasm you had been waiting for twice now.

It didn’t take long to reach it. Not when he had already teased you with his mouth and fingers and now was fucking you so damn good you could barely breathe. Harry didn’t stop once you rode through your orgasm, no, he took it as an opportunity to give you barely ten seconds of rest and flip you around so you were lying flat on the table. He was nestled back in you before you knew it, in a single fluid thrust that had you crying out from sheer sensitivity.

He didn’t seem to care, or he did but just liked to see the way the tears streamed down your face. And you were okay. He knew you were okay because he checked in with you in that ten seconds of rest, making sure you were green before he flipped you over to fuck you how he wanted.

And fuck. This was how he wanted you.

“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.

Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them.

But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.

He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions.

Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure.

“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone.

“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.”

There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.

“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”

Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time.

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”

You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder.

“Spit in my mouth.”

Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat.

“God, you’re fucking filthy today.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”

Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

It all happened so fast. The praise. The hammering of his hips against yours. The woozy pleasure feeling clouding your brain like a drug. All of it. And then it happened. Harry collected the saliva in his mouth and spat it all over your tongue, watching with sick satisfaction as your saliva slid down to the back of your throat. He groaned loudly and leaned in to kiss you fiercely, picking up the pace against your hips in a way that had tears trailing down your face.

It was so good. So so fucking good. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Every square of your body was pressed against his and when he fucked you particularly hard, the dining table scraped across his gorgeous wooden flooring. Harry didn’t give two fucks about his scratched floors, if anything he liked the thought of always looking at a constant reminder that you were his.

“Can’t believe what a little slut you’re being tonight.” He grinned, palming over your breast and pinching your nipple until you cried out and arched against him. “You fucking love my spit, don’t you? That’s why you asked for it. Because you love being my filthy little slut.”

Filthy little slut. God you loved when he was a little mean to you. A lot mean sometimes too.

“Uhuh. Love it so much.” You nodded enthusiastically, well, as enthusiastically as you could after an orgasm and his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your throat.

“Yeah? Take some more than. Since you want it so fucking bad.” He spat into your mouth again, using two fingers to roughly spread it over your tongue. He pushed them back, laughing when you suddenly gagged around his fingertips. “Aw, poor baby can’t even handle my fingers, hm? How do you manage my cock then if you can’t even take two fingers down your throat?”

He grabbed your neck this time and pushed you back until you were lying down on the table before grabbing your ankles to hike them on your shoulder.

Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot.

“Harry.” You protested, covering your face with both hands.

Your whole body was heating up from how mean he was being. Maybe even a little shy at how much you liked it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore that you liked it, not when you two had so much practice with it. Yet you still found yourself getting nervous when he looked at you a certain way or said a certain thing. You rather liked it like that. You never wanted to lose the butterflies. The romance. The big pile of mush you turned into when he degraded you and used you.

“Don’t start being shy now, Angel. You know you like it.” He smirked, reaching forward to grab your hands from your face. He interlaced your fingers, drawing your hands down to rest on your belly so he could look at you. “Wanna look at you, baby. You’ve got the prettiest face. Look so gorgeous like this.”

Every word seemed to be egging you on, drawing you closer to the inevitable ecstasy that would flood through your core. The angle was so intense, so deep you knew that if he pressed on your belly, his cock would press through.

“Oh god. I’m… shit. I’m so close.” You moaned, squeezing his hands and digging your heels into his shoulders.

“Give it to me, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“My… my clit.”

Harry kept one hand intertwined with yours while the other moved down to your clit. He rubbed purposed circles over your bundle of nerves, delivering such perfect pressure it barely took a murmured ‘I love you’ for that wave of white hot pleasure to rush over you. His thrusts stilled at the feeling of you clenching around him and he was quick to widen your legs and fold over you so he could lazily slot your lips together.

With a curse and a pretty whimper into your mouth that had your head spinning, Harry thrust once, twice, three final times until you felt his hot cum fill you up. His body was so heavy over yours, your sticky bodies pressed and joined together. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you.

“God, that was so good.” He murmured, tucking his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Agreed. I’ve missed that” you whispered, panting slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Me too. Fuck.” He propped himself up over you, pushing your hair back from your face. “Are you okay?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh, tipping your head up so you could kiss him. “I’m more than okay. Two orgasms equals a happy girl.”

“And what does three make you?” He grinned.

“An even happier girl, possibly a tired girl.” You smiled, reaching your arms above your head to arch your back in a stretch. He shook his head and stood back straight, scanning his eyes over the light sheen of sweat on your pretty skin.

“And you’re not tired now?” Harry raised his brow, looking down at your pussy to watch himself pull out. He did so slowly, careful not to hurt you and was completely mesmerised by the trail of cum that followed his cock.

“Fuck.” You whispered, feeling an ache when he fully pulled out of you. “Of course I’m tired. A little sore too. I think I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Mh. Me too. Wish we could sleep together.” He replied, eyes glued to his cum slowly dripping out of you. “I don't think I’ll ever get over how hot it is to see you like this.”

“Mmh.” You agreed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at his cock covered in your cream. “I always thought creampies were overrated before you. Now… I love it.” Your eyes flickered back to Harry, who was already looking right at you with this dark look that made you want to climb all over him again. “I like feeling it later… even if it’s a little gross to sit in cold cum.”

Harry scrunched his nose up at that, “You could’ve made that so much sexier, y/n. Now when you go home I’ll be thinking of stale cum.”

“I didn’t call it stale! I said ‘cold’.”

“Like that’s any better?” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll grab you some water and a towel, okay? Stay here.”

“Like I’d go anywhere, I’ll drip stale cum all over your floor.” You shot back as he was already walking into his kitchen. You loved his ass. It was just so cute half the time you had this temptation to just whack it but you knew he’d hate it and probably retaliate ten times worse.

There was something so sexy about him walking around stark naked without a care in the world. He had such confidence in his body and himself that he really didn’t care. You weren’t as confident as he was in that department but being with him had definitely made you more confident in your skin.

“It’s already on my table, y/n. The floor won’t make much difference.”

You clenched up immediately at that comment, trying to stop more of his cum from dripping out of you. “Yeah… we’ve got to sanitise this. We eat here.” You scrunched your nose and sat up to look at the spot between your legs, finding his cum already dripped onto the table.

“Baby I’d sanitise the entire house if it meant I got to fuck you anywhere and everywhere.” He smirked, coming back with a big glass of water and a damp tea towel. He had already cleaned himself up and was quick to crouch down before you to clean you up as well. You didn’t get very nervous about the cleanup anymore. Harry had wiped you clean and taken care of you dozens of times.

“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the glass from where he had put it on the table beside you. “Your bed’s next. When we have more time.”

“I still can’t believe we haven’t christened my bed yet. It feels wrong.” He murmured, watching you

shakily bring the glass to your lips while he grabbed your underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and dragged them up your legs.

“I know. I’ve missed your bed. It’s a lot comfier than mine, more space too.” You had this little mischievous grin playing on your lips, one that Harry found incredibly sexy.

You were still breathing a little heavily and managed to finish half the glass by the time you lifted your hips and Harry adjusted your underwear back in place. You attempted to set the glass down on the table beside you but before you could, he stood up and stopped you with a finger pushing the cup up towards you.

“Ah. All of it.” He tutted, looking at you expectedly until you brought the cup up to your mouth again. He maintained eye contact with you, one hand rubbing over your bare thigh while he kept a single finger underneath your glass. It was firm enough to tell you to keep drinking, but not enough so you wouldn’t be able to move the glass on your own. “Good girl… that’s it, drink all of it. Atta girl.”

You loved being fucked rough and dirty and since you two decided not to use condoms, your favourite thing was being pumped full of his cum, even more so when he degraded you when it happened. Like he just did barely two minutes ago. But there was something even better about the aftercare. His sweet tone, his commanding and caring nature as he got you water and a snack. All of it.

And the praise. Somehow it was so much sexier when you two were post-sex, even more so when it was casual. A nonchalant ‘good girl’ when you did something he asked or a loving ‘I’m so proud of you’ when you got a good grade or finished an assignment. His atta girl at finishing your water nearly made you drop to your shaky knees and get him nice and hard again with your mouth.

He said the words like they were nothing then moved on, not really caring that you were like a frozen deer at the first sign of praise. “I happen to like your bed. It’s cosy.”

“Yeah…” you breathed, “cosy and next to a thin wall where even adjusting in my bed can be heard by next door.”

“You don’t think they’d like hearing you call me ‘Daddy’?” He grinned, putting his sweatpants on and grabbing your t shirt to help put that on you too. You’ll definitely have to shower the second you walk into your house. There’s just no way you don’t smell like a sex club.

“No, I don’t think so.” You finished the very last sip of your water, making sure there wasn’t a single drop left in the glass. Once it was all gone, Harry grabbed it from you and placed it down on the table out of the way, tipping your head up with a gentle finger under your chin while his thumb rubbed over the leftover wetness around your mouth from your drink.

“Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his thumb.

Harry smiled softly and guided your mouth to his for a single, deep, core-clenching kiss. It felt like a kiss that was promising so much more and even though you just had your fill, literally, it didn’t make you any less insatiable for him. There was just something about Harry dominating… truly dominating that turned you into a horny little rabbit.

You wouldn’t be surprised if Harry called you that one day. It felt like the less you saw each other, the more insatiable you became. With the last couple of weeks being so busy, each time you’ve seen each other had been takeaway or a quick dinner and quick - but good - sex. You didn’t have proper time together and while fucking until the morning sounded and felt like a good idea in the moment, when you both woke up and Harry had his long commute to work or you had a day full of classes it became a regret.

Well, not a regret per se. You’d never regret sleeping with him. Ever. But you both complained about being tired the entire day to each other. More you than him since you loved to complain about everything and now Harry was fortunate enough to be the one to hear it all. It was worth it, but it was hard.

You couldn’t take every weekend, or even every second weekend off work to spend time with Harry because you needed money and he couldn’t ‘work from home’ to spend time with you. Driving so much took it out of both of you too so it was always easier if he stayed the night. Things would change once your parents knew and you had a bit more freedom… but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be totally happy with you spending nights with him instead of them.

And next door to top it all off.

Your anxious feelings didn’t help the situation either, but even with that little hiccup, you had missed time. Time where you two could just explore each other's bodies and try new things, go multiple rounds without the stress of your responsibilities. You had that before you two started dating so you knew that the changes to your sex life were mostly your fault. Or because of your situation.

If you lived closer things would be a lot easier. But that was also life and you two were figuring out what worked for you and now to manage it all. Ideally, once you were finished with university, maybe you two would move in with each other or at the very least you’d want to live much closer to him.

It was still so early into your relationship and you didn’t want to jump too far… but being full of his cum made your brain a little dizzy and romantic. Suddenly you were ready to forget your birth control and let him fuck a baby in you so you could be at home with him all the time. As a fantasy of course.

Which is why your post-sex horny brain took a few seconds longer to process the next words out of his mouth.

“Hey, um. I need to tell you something.” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours. He slid his hand along your cheek to cup your face, letting his fingertips comb through your hair a little.

“Hm?” you asked, brows furrowing when you read the nervous look in his eyes. Your stomach dropped suddenly and that anxious gut feeling felt more rampant than ever. “What is it?”

“I have to go back to London.”

“Oh, okay.” You were a little taken aback. Harry hadn’t mentioned any trips or work events or anything recently. The timing of it right after the phone call too felt a bit unnerving. You just hoped everything was okay. “When?”

“Just over a month.” He murmured, feeling that steady beat of anxiety claw at his throat. Harry hated that he had to ruin such a good moment, such a pleasurable, romantic experience to talk about this. He wasn’t sure how you’d react and it scared the hell out of him.

“Wow, that’s short notice.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, threading your fingers casually into his hair. “Is it… family? Or work or?”

“Family. I…” he swallowed thickly, hugging his arms around you. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“That’s great.” You smiled, relieved that it wasn’t something horrible. That he was okay. “That’ll be such a nice trip, Harry. Did you saw them last year when you went over?”

Harry didn’t speak about them a lot. He didn’t not speak about them and when they came up he always had something to say, but it also wasn’t a topic he brought up by himself. He spoke about his travels quite often, but even that topic hadn’t come up in a while. You were a little glad actually because you didn’t really want to think about him going away for so long. The thought of him in Italy looking all gorgeous and tanned without you made you violently ill.

Harry shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my family.”

And there it was.

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was had to be deeply personal and you knew that.

After the very brief mention of his nephew passing, you two hadn’t spoken about it once. You wanted to ask but it never felt like the right time and after that phone call, the last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were pressuring him into talking.

And now to learn there was more…

“Well… you know how I told you about my nephew?” You nodded, “When he died… it was right around the time I was meant to move here. The timing was so fucked. My flight had been booked for months and it was scheduled for the week after the funeral. Everything was packed and ready to go and my job was due to start only a few days after I landed in Melbourne…”

“That must’ve been so hard, Harry. I can’t imagine having to leave everyone so close to his passing.”

“It gets worse, y/n.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “When Harry Jr died, it really fucked me up. I already wasn’t in the best mental state because of my ex, even if I thought I was fine, and I couldn’t handle it.” You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with it. It was clear he did something, but what? “Harry Jr was like my own kid. Him and Lola were everything to me but he was just… like my twin. Lola and I were close but it didn’t compare to the bond Harry and I had. Losing him was… the worst thing that has ever happened to me and as fucked as it was and still is, I couldn’t handle it.”

Harry was starting to get worked up. His words were becoming a little shaky and you could feel how tense he became. He was holding onto you so tight and yet he was avoiding looking at you. He was scared to hear how you were going to react and he was having a hard time finding the words to explain what he had done.

Practicing with Max did nothing to help. He had told people before and been faced with his actions for years so it wasn’t a new discussion to have. But telling you, the love of his life, how he betrayed and destroyed his family only to keep himself distanced because he was a coward was the hardest it had ever been.

“Everyone grieves differently, Harry. It would’ve been hard for everyone.” You tried to soothe, combing through his hair.

“I changed my flight to the day of the funeral.” He just went and said it, immediately feeling your fingers stop in his hair and how you seemed to pull your body back from his. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were a little shocked. “I spent days breaking down and feeling the most depressed I had ever been. The idea of going to that funeral and seeing the small coffin… I couldn’t do it.” He stepped back from you, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking, his throat aching with how hard he was willing away the tears. His eyes were stinging and he didn’t want to face you as he explained the rest of the story, even when you slipped off the table and whispered his name, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I skipped the funeral without telling anyone and I flew here to start my new life.” He paused, swallowing thickly, “I left her, y/n. I left my only sister on the worst day of her life because I couldn’t handle it. She lost her son and I left. I left!” The words came out in an angry spit and his shoulders seemed to widen and slump forward like he was holding back immense rage. At himself. “We fought and she said she’d never forgive me again, fuck I can’t forgive myself. I don’t even want to.”

You were a little thrown off balance, to be honest. You never expected him to say any of that and to hide it from you for so long. But you couldn’t be upset either. He made a terrible mistake and you could see how badly it was eating him up. Harry was a proud person and very rarely doubted himself or his actions, yet you knew he was so ashamed in himself for what he did. It was hard to see.

“Harry…” You tried to get him to turn around with a little squeeze of his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

“My mum hated me, Gemma hated me, Andy hated me. Everyone hated me and I deserved it. I’ve skipped every Christmas since because I couldn’t face it and because I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I’ve sent letters and texts and tried to call her and I’ve never been able to see her face to face because I’m scared. I’ve never been able to push myself to that next step because I keep thinking it’s too late. That she’ll never forgive me.”

You could see how devastated he was about it and how angry he was at himself. And you understood it. He had spent nearly five years away from his family, beating himself up because of a huge mistake he made. And it was huge. You weren’t going to dispel that. You weren’t even sure that if you were in Gemma’s place, you’d ever get over something like that.

But Harry has also changed a lot. You imagined Harry Jr’s death changed him for the worse. Since the moment you met him, he always was a selfish, narcissistic person. It was never a secret that he lived his life for himself and cared about money and his job over anything else and maybe Harry Jr’s death had something to do with that. But since knowing him he’s made so many improvements to himself. He’s completely turned around to try and be an honest and good person.

The things he did for you and put himself through to protect you wouldn’t be done by just anyone. He had so much love in him and had proved that time and time again. He was attentive and caring and so generous. You were starting to think that he always was that person but was torturing himself for so long because of the mistakes he had made that it was easier to keep people at an arm's length.

After knowing him deeper though, you knew that his family meant a lot to him. He spoke to his mum at least twice a week and looked after her financially too. She was a young mum and had already been retired for nearly 10 years because of the way Harry invested his money and the success he had in all his different ventures. Being able to retire a parent when you’re barely 30 and live your own life in such an extravagant way is a massive achievement.

Which is why you were just so shocked he hadn’t visited Gemma in person yet to try and mend things. How did it take so long for him to finally make the decision to go back to the UK and mend things with her, at least you assumed that’s why he wanted to go to her birthday. You assumed the phone call with his mum had something to do with it too.

You weren’t really sure what to make of it or what to say. You loved him and were always going to love him and it hurt to know that he had been in a mental place so low and so far gone that he hurt his only sibling this badly. He was suffering with his own grief and unable to cope that badly that his sister, the mother of his nephew had to mourn the loss of her son and her brother all at the same time.

It was awful all around.

“Harry. Turn around, please.” You coaxed gently, giving his shoulder another little squeeze. He inhaled a shaky breath and slowly turned around, showing you his reddened eyes and puffy nose. “Come here.” You guided, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the couch so you two could sit and talk about it properly. He remained silent while you took his hands in yours, trying to find the right words to support him.

“What you did was wrong…” His expression seemed to fall even further, complete despair in his eyes. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” You softened your expression, reaching up to cup his face in both hands. “You’ve been torturing yourself because of this for years and I get it. I can’t put myself in your shoes or even Gemma’s shoes because I don’t have siblings and I don’t have nieces or nephews but I understand loss and I understand family. Everyone grieves differently but the one constant in our lives is our family. I don’t think it’s too late to make up for it.”

“You don’t mean that.” He whispered, scanning your face. “Why don’t you hate me? I fucked up.”

“You did and I won’t excuse what you did. But you were in a horrible part of your life and yeah, the right thing to do was go to the funeral, but you made your choice and you’ve lived with the consequences already. You have changed and grown so much since we started dating, Harry, and I can see the difference it’s making in your life. All you can do now is try and show Gemma you’ve changed. That you’re better.”

Harry said nothing for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’ve tried to go home to her for years and every time I get close, I see how happy they are without me and it stops me. There was one Summer I even made it to the front gate and saw Gemma and Lola through the window. They looked so happy. Lola was so big and Gemma looked at peace. I didn’t want to destroy that.”

“Don’t you think she’d be happier knowing she had her brother back?” You asked softly, dropping your hands from his face to grab his hands instead.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “My mum has been trying to get me to go back for a long time, always trying to convince me that everyone missed me. That Gemma missed me. I never went because I was thinking about myself instead of her. It was easier for me to stay away than confront what I did. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person.”

He sounded so determined and he was. He always appreciated your honesty and you kept him accountable time and time again but you did it in a way that still supported him. You listened to him fully and offered support and advice. You didn’t act like he was a monster. He hoped that you felt like that on the inside too.

“Is that what the phone call was about? Her birthday?”

Harry nodded. “My mum has been hounding me about it for months. When the call happened I wasn’t ready to tell you because I was scared I’d lose you. Really fucking scared. I know it upset you, baby, and I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to. I hope I haven’t lost you because I was ashamed.”

“You haven’t.” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “You haven't. I was upset at the time, but I didn’t want to press you because you’re allowed to have things that are just yours... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” You reached up to cup his cheek, watching the way he nuzzled into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the comfort he felt. “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Harry. I think Gemma would appreciate the work you’ve put into yourself to become a better person.”

“You think so?” He whispered, scanning your face with his eyes.

You nodded. “I think it’ll take time. I honestly don’t know how things will work out because I don’t know her, but I know you and I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things with her. You’re her brother, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck to draw you in for a kiss. This wasn’t the end of this conversation by any means. You had questions and you hoped that he’d be a lot more open about his family now. This was such an intense, deep-rooted issue. If he wanted to talk about it more, which you hoped he did, it wouldn’t happen in one night.

The kiss deepened ever so slightly, ending with a little run of his tongue against your bottom lip while he rested his forehead against yours. “Will you come with me?”

“What? Where? To London?” You blinked, a little surprised at his sudden request.

He nodded, tightening his hand in your hair just a little. It wasn’t to hurt you, just to feel you. “I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I want you there.”

“Harry-” you tried to interrupt, but it was like he felt your hesitation before you even said anything.

“I can show you my hometown, my house. You can meet my mum, maybe even Gemma. I just… I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come with me.”

This felt like something he needed to do by himself. It happened before he even knew you and was such an important step in his life. Family is family and it would almost feel like an intrusion to be there when he’d be sorting through so much history.

“Harry…” you sighed, leaning back. “I want nothing more than to support you but I have school. I don’t know if I can take time off and I’ve still got this trip planned at the end of the year with my friends. Money wise too… it’s a lot and it’s so soon.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing, y/n. I’d never let you do that.” His voice turned lower just a touch like he was almost reprimanding you for even suggesting he’d let you pay for a single thing. “And I think it might even align with your semester break, at least some of it anyway. Even if you flew in later and met me there? We could travel. I could take you to my house in Italy.” He was trying so hard to convince you but by the look on your face, it wasn’t working.

“It’s not just that, Harry.” You chuckled at his attempts to convince you, which actually were quite appealing. “I love you and the idea of Italy and seeing where you grew up is so… amazing but I think this is something you need to do by yourself. There is so much history there and so much you need to work through. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go.”

“I want you to come.” He coaxed, pecking you quickly. God when he had that almost pouty look on his face and murmured so sweetly… you’d agree to anything. “You can do your own thing. You’ve always wanted to go to London. There’s so much to do and you can do whatever you want. As long as I get to see you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Have you in my bed every night.” Now the thought of that was extremely appealing. “Just think about it. Please.”

“I’ll think about it.” You compromised, smiling softly.

“Thank you.” He kissed you again before wrapping his arms around you to draw you into his chest. Both of you knew you had to head home, but it wasn’t the right time for you to leave. You couldn’t.

You spent the next hour or so just wrapped in his arms, then him wrapped in yours. He opened up a little more about Gemma and his extended family and he already seemed so much more open to speak about them. You could tell this was something that weighed heavy on him for a long time.

Archie made his way from outside at some point too, bringing in a trail of dust and leaves that broke the tension in the room and let you and Harry distract yourselves by bathing him. He had been running a muck outside the entire time, obsessively playing with a new toy Harry bought him. He was so engrossed in it, that he didn’t even know you came over.

That was probably a good idea since you and Harry spent a lot of your time together naked. You swear Archie had PTSD from Harry’s instruction to go to his bed.

It was late by the time you peeled yourself from Harry, not wanting to leave but knowing you had to. He didn’t want you to leave either but you promised to come over before you left in the morning. He was tempted to come home with you and you had a feeling he might drive back in his own car so he could spend the night with you, or even the day before driving back in the night.

It was times like these where you hated that your parents didn’t know about him. After learning everything, maybe it was time.

“Hey, baby.” Your mum greeted, hugging you the moment you walked into your kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, hugging her back. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” He hugged you next, kissing your forehead before returning to the pot he was stirring on the stove.

“Sorry I took forever, I was catching up with Harry then Archie ended up dragging dirt through the house so I stayed to help him clean up.” You explained, hoping she bought the excuse. There was this expression on her face that just told you she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything about it so you decided to leave it and not say too much. Otherwise, she’d really know something was up if you started waffling.

“It’s nice you two have stayed so close.” There was something about the way she focused on the word ‘close’, but she had a glass of wine in hand and always liked to read into things when she got a bit tipsy. You hoped you were just being a little paranoid. “You think he’ll give you your job back over your semester break?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might just plan my shifts at the cafe so I can be here for a couple of days then at mine for a couple of days. I don’t want to cut my shifts at the cafe completely.”

“Mh.” She agreed, “think about it. You know I like having you around.”

“I know. I like being here too.” You smiled, “I’m going to shower and get changed quickly. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright. Don’t be too long.” She called after you.

“I won’t!”

The night continued as it always did. Dinner, a glass of wine, an update on your week of uni and your night out with your friends (sans Harry, of course). Then Dad went to his office to do some quotes and your mum and you wound up on the couch watching The Real Housewives. Another couple glasses of wine was involved, but it was a Saturday night and you had nowhere to be tomorrow except home.

Perfect.

Until your mum paused the show while you got up to get a snack and when you returned, she had no plans of playing it again. She had this look on her face, like she was getting ready to announce something really big or ask you an invasive question.

It was the latter.

“Are you okay?” You asked, landing on the couch with a heavy seat. The wine slowly infused in your body, making you feel like a heavy lump of bones. You were getting to the point where one more sip of wine would knock you out and your pillow was calling your name.

“I need to ask you something.” She shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged while facing you. She still had her glass of wine in hand, eyeing it like she had a nervous tick.

“Okay…” you looked at her a little funny, taking a sip of wine.

“Are you sleeping with Harry?” At her words, your eyes widened and the wine suddenly travelled down the wrong hole. You coughed repeatedly and Mum was quick to lean forward to tap your back until your coughing subsided. “Our neighbour, Harry.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Mum, but I only know one Harry.” You coughed, rubbing the sore spot over your chest. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer the question. Is it true?”

Shit. What were you even meant to do? You didn’t want to lie about it because the truth would always come out, but you also weren’t ready to talk about it. You had this whole speech planned and all these things you wanted to say when you brought it up to her and now that she was the one asking you about it, there was nothing in your head.

You felt bombarded by it. But maybe it was better to tell her first before your dad found out. At least this way you could explain everything and diffuse any worries so when he found out, your mum would be on your side. And you knew she would be. Or hopeful at best. Maybe not at first, but all she wanted was your happiness and if Harry made you happy, she’d support you with it.

Your parents had always told you that they didn’t care what you did with your life as long as you were happy, healthy and safe. They’d support you if it truly was what you wanted. When they said that they were talking about work, not dating your neighbour, but it still applied.

It would be a shock to them and you knew that, but no one was getting hurt and you were happier than you had ever been. You knew they’d understand. Eventually anyway.

“Um…” you trailed off, looking away briefly. “Yes? But we’re not sleeping together, we’re… we’re dating.” Even though you could tell she wasn’t surprised, the look of pure disappointment on her face expressed exactly how she felt. She didn’t want you to say yes. “I was going to tell you.” You jumped in again before she replied, wanting to get as much out as possible before she gave her opinion. “I swear. I wanted to tell you and Dad both at the same time so you two wouldn’t get all weird with each other if one of you knew first.”

“Oh god, y/n!” Mum pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a heavy sip of wine before continuing like it would somehow make the news easier to bear. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. I prayed that you weren’t and yet here we are.”

“You knew? How?”

“I didn’t know, but I kind of worked it out. You've been a little giddier than usual. Always looking at your phone and you’re always going over there when you come to visit. He's been different too. Less broody and secretive and he's been getting a dogsitter for Archie for a lot more overnights than usual. Mother’s know these things, y/n. So… explain. How did it start?”

Was it seriously that obvious? When she put it like that, it kind of was obvious that you were seeing someone. She wasn't particularly upset by it, but her tone wasn't overly jovial either. She was calm. Calm was good.

Though it could've been the wine making her more relaxed.

“I guess we kind of got closer as I dogsat Archie. We’d always talk for ages and we had that weekly dinner, which you knew about. Then one day… I don’t know. Things changed.” You averted eye contact, feeling a blush graze your cheeks at the memory of the first time you two slept together.

“You were sleeping together?” You nodded silently, knowing that she’d be able to tell if you were lying. “When?”

“What?”

“When was the first time?”

“Mum.” You protested, “you don’t need to know that.”

“I do, actually because now that I know it happened, I need to know when it started.”

“Yes but-”

“So when was the first time, y/n?”

You clearly weren't getting out of this one.

“...A few weeks before his birthday, I guess.”

“A few weeks before his birthday.” She repeated to herself, “so you were dogsitting for him and having dinner with him for weeks and what? You two were just sleeping together each time just like that? All those times you came home ‘late’, you were sleeping with him? Right next door? Have you slept with him here?”

“Mum, stop!” You whined, hating how she seemed to be spiralling about the fact you had sex.

Her questions were practically spitfire and if you didn't stop her now, she'd continue and her questions would get way more invasive. She always was like that when she drank. Nosy and more brazen than usual. Dad always said it was because she was pretty that she got away with the way she ran her mouth when she drank.

Mum was harmless, but God if there was even a smidge of a secret hanging around she'd find out and talk about it to anyone and everyone.

She knew you weren’t a virgin and while you didn’t share every detail of your sex life, she knew you had slept with a couple of guys. You were always open and honest with her to an extent because you valued her advice, especially when your heart got involved and you ended up getting hurt. But right now you didn’t want to hear her fears or her spiralling bout the fact you had sex next door when you knew she and Dad had sex only two rooms away from you. If it were up to her, she’d know every detail about every aspect of your life.

You understood it to an extent and you practically did share everything with her. But seriously. Boundaries.

“I love you but it’s none of your business. I don’t ask when you and dad have sex because that’s disgusting so don’t ask me!”

“Fine. Fine. You’re right.” She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, “Just tell me you’re still on birth control and we can move on.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Good because I swear to God, y/n, if you come home pregnant...”

“Mum!”

“I had to say it, okay? It’s my job as a mother. Now continue.”

“It wasn’t serious at first and neither-” you paused to give her a warning glance when it looked like she was going to make another comment about your sex life. She only rolled her eyes and sipped her wine again, attentively listening to you talk, “neither of us wanted a relationship and I always said to you too that it didn’t interest me but he somehow managed to change my mind about it all. He didn't mean to and he was further away from commitment than I was... but the longer it went on, the more we realised that it was more than just casual." You let out a sigh, "I didn’t want to like him mum, I didn’t. There were problems and he had problems and I knew it was stupid to fall for someone who lived his whole life single and selfish but things changed and kept changing. He changed.”

The whole time you spoke, she actively listened. She didn’t try to interrupt or even make any weird noises of indignation that your dad definitely would. She just listened and processed it. You appreciated that.

“It wasn’t an easy beginning to our relationship because we had a lot of differences and he… he hurt me really bad. I almost told you back then too because he broke my heart. Really bad.” Your voice broke slightly, feeling that same break in your heart that you did at the very beginning.

“Y/n.” She soothed, placing her hand on yours over your knee. “You could’ve told me back then, y’know. I would’ve been there for you. I'm a little hurt you didn't trust me enough to come talk to me about this.”

“It's not about trust, mum. You know I trust you. Everything was just so complicated and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really think we’d get back together, anyway, so I didn’t want to start something and have you storm to his house to tell him off for no reason when I thought it was over.”

“I would’ve done that. I can still do that for you, if you want?” She smiled, sipping her wine again.

“No, don't," You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We worked things out and… well we never looked back. Before we ended our casual relationship so badly, Harry was really complicated and secretive and God sometimes I wanted to strangle him. But when we got back together… he changed everything for me, mum. He worked on himself and is still working on himself and honestly, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. He treats me so so well and he spoils me and loves me everyday and-”

“He loves you?” She interrupted, “as in you loves you.”

You nodded.

“And you love him back?”

You took an extra moment to respond to her, not really sure where she was going with her comments. “I do. I know I do.”

“y/n…” She sighed. You could feel the change in the air. How her active listening turned to disappointment and a hope that your relationship would end before it properly started. “I honestly thought that you were just dating and having fun and he was buying you nice things, but love? I have no doubt you feel that way towards him but isn’t it too soon?”

“I just know, mum. I had no control over it and I never meant for it to happen but it did and… and I’m happy. I’m so happy with him and even with the distance and everything else, we’re making it work.”

“But how? He’s not too much younger than your dad and I and he’s got no kids, has never been married? Everyone knows he’s had his fun and sleeps with whoever he wants, what’s to say he doesn’t still want that? And then there’s the opposite. What if he’s finally done with being a bachelor and wants to settle and have kids before he gets too old? Is that what you want? Because I know it’s not.” She gave you this look and crossed her arms over her chest, like she already knew what your answer would be.

She seemed to know all your answers tonight.

“Of course I don’t want that. Not now anyway. But he doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to sleep around either.”

“So you two haven’t spoken about settling down?” She fired back, already knowing that you had. Your mum was the best reader of people and relationships, probably because she stuck her nose in everyone's business and knew all the ways they failed.

“I mean we have but not for now. Like… just so we both know that this isn’t a short term kind of thing.”

“Y/n, baby. You are so young. So young and gorgeous and smart.” She soothed, leaning forward to cup your face and run her hands over your hair. “You have your whole life in front of you and the whole world at your fingertips. Why are you settling down with someone who’s already experienced everything? Would you not rather explore the world with someone who hasn’t seen it over and over again?”

“Mum, I can still do everything I want to do when I’m with him." You exasperated, brushing her hands off you. "I can travel and work overseas if I want and I still see my friends and do everything normal. Being in a relationship doesn’t stop that and if anything, Harry’s position makes it easier. He’s stable financially and is happy to slow down and do what I want. It’s not that he doesn’t get a say, but he’s got the freedom and wants to experience everything with me. It may not seem like it, but he’s got a lot of firsts too, mum. Trust me, I’ve thought about it all.”

“Look, I don’t know him very well.” She sighed, settling back against the couch. “He’s been living next door for nearly five years and I couldn’t even tell you what footy team he supports, but he’s always been polite and charming. All I can do is go off that and what you tell me and if you’re telling me you’re happy then… I guess I’m happy too. I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. By anyone.”

“I know. I don’t want that either but I promise you’ll love him like I do. You’ll see why he means so much to me. You and dad.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I hope so.” She smiled back, squeezing your hand in return. “So tell me more. Tell me everything.”

The next few hours were spent practically debriefing your entire relationship. You kept the bigger problems private as she simply wouldn’t understand the Ethan situation, but you told her everything else you two had been through. If it had something to do with Ethan, you twisted the story a little but for the most part, it was an amazing chat.

You loved your mum more than anything and to actually sit there and talk about Harry so freely and honestly and have her engage properly was the best feeling ever. She freely gave advice (even when you didn’t want it) but you were happy with that. You didn’t have a lot of boy problems so actually having someone to talk about with her was everything to you. It made you hopeful for the future of your relationship with Harry and took so much weight off your shoulders.

It was liberating.

“Oh god…” mum wheezed, her laughter coming to a stop as she finished off her final glass of wine for the evening. “I’m too drunk right now but in the morning we’ll brainstorm how to get back at chatty Cathy across the road. She can never ever keep her mouth shut. That woman.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Your brows furrowed and that happy, calm energy you had somehow dissipated into thin air.

“Tracey? The only reason I asked you if you were seeing Harry was because Tracey’s been hinting at it for weeks. I thought I told you.”

“No�� you didn’t.”

Your mind was suddenly twisting and turning. After everything you had been through with her and Ethan and even just the shit between you and Harry, she still wouldn’t leave you alone. You had done nothing to her and left her alone since you moved out for school and yet she still had to run her mouth off about you? You just didn’t get it.

Harry had recordings over her admitting to lying to you and you had photos of her cheating and she knew that and still decided to try and get some attention her way? Nope. Not on your fucking watch.

You were over it. You were over being the target of people who you had nothing to do with. Who only wanted to use you to get money or for some other stupid fucking reason that meant nothing in real life. You were done. So if she was going to run her big fat mouth about you, then you were going to do it right back and you were going to hit her where it hurt the most. Her family.

It was only a couple of days later when the truth came out. You weren’t trying to hide it from Harry but it also wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. He got called into work for some client emergency on Sunday which ruined his plan to come spend the day and/or night with you. Then neither of you could see the other until Tuesday as he planned to work from home on Wednesday.

You were glad that his quiet days seemed to align with yours because it meant you could spend more time together. Even if you were both busy working or doing uni work, just being in his presence was enough to make you happy. And now that your mum knew about you two… it was only a matter of time before you could start spending nights at his house too.

“Baby?” You heard Harry’s voice echo through your apartment, easily being heard in the shower due to your thin walls.

“In here.” You yelled back, scrubbing your nails through your scalp to rinse out the remaining conditioner. Harry accidentally went home with your keypass after going on his morning run the last time he stayed over. He kept it in his shorts pocket so he wouldn’t wake you and it wound up in his bags somehow, hence his ability to enter your place without you needing to go downstairs and get him. He wasn’t really meant to have them, but it was only for a couple of days and Maeve had your spares so you could still get in and out easily.

“Can I come in?” He asked a moment later, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened the door and let himself in, scanning your naked body from head to toe. You were facing the wall with your eyes closed, head tilted back so the water was streaming down your hair. Gorgeous. He had been craving you all day. It was just one of those days where it was shit after shit and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and just be wrapped in your arms.

“Can I join you?” Harry asked softly, itching to jump in the hot water with you. He was already loosening his tie. Before entering your bathroom he took off his jacket and shoes so he was ready to let the rest of his clothes fall to the ground without care. You always had showers extremely hot and now that the weather was cooling down, Harry quite liked the sauna it left behind in the bathroom. He didn’t particularly enjoy it when it was 30° outside but he never let that stop him from getting in a shower with you.

“Of course, you can.” You smiled, still facing away from him. You always felt a little vulnerable being in a shower with him. Even though he had seen your body plenty of times, there was still something so sacred and personal about getting clean. You were glad you had already washed yourself before he came in because the last thing you needed him to see was you plucking out one of your long hairs from your underarms or ass.

“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” You hummed, feeling the slide of his cold bare hands along your hips as he joined you in the shower.

“Yeah, I had to work late. ‘M sorry to keep you waiting.” He murmured, kissing your shoulder while wrapping his arms fully around you. You sighed into the touch, tilting your head back to welcome the feeling of his body around yours. He snuggled against you, proper bear-hugging you while digging his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay. Maeve dragged me to a late Pilates class so I had to wash my hair. I swear I sweat like two litres every time.” You laughed softly, “I would’ve waited for you. I like being at the door to greet you.”

“I like having you greet me too.” He kissed your neck softly, “did you have fun at Pilates? I haven’t been for a while.”

“I liked it. It was a beginner class so no handstands or anything like you do but I’m sore already. ” You teased, turning around slowly to face him. He kept your body close, immediately kissing you once your faces were in line. “We should go together sometime. I’ve been trying to get Jay to go but he keeps blowing me off.” You offered, immediately sensing that something was off with him.

“I’d like that.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours again. Harry was craving your comfort. He didn’t want to start anything or get too riled up, he just loved the warmth that spread through his chest when his mouth melted into yours. It could be a peck, a pash, a full snogging session. It didn’t matter.

You combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “How was your day?”

“Shit. Just one of those days, y’know.” Harry replied, pressing your foreheads together before kissing you again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Do you want to talk about it?” You slowly eased your bodies around so he was facing the water instead of you. He shook his head and let his eyes flutter closed as the hot water streamed over his head. You pushed his hair back from his face, kissing his chest. “Okay.” When Harry wanted to talk he’d willingly do so, so you weren’t going to push him. Sometimes work was just shit and you got that. He’d probably talk about it later once he decompressed and relaxed. “You want me to wash your hair?”

A smile grew on his face at your offer and he tipped his head down to look at you. Harry loved having his hair played with and his scalp scratched. He was like a cat. Sometimes he’d just lay there with his head on your lap for hours while you played with his hair. You first found it out during sex because he liked the pain, especially when his head was between your thighs so it only made sense he’d like it out of the bedroom too.

“You sure?”

You nodded and reached up on your tippy toes to kiss him. “Turn around.”

He pecked your mouth gently as a thank you then turned around to face the water. Wordlessly, you grabbed your shampoo and squeezed some onto your hands, rubbing them together to emulsify before you brought them to his scalp.

Harry moaned as you massaged his scalp, using your nails to scratch as you went. “That feels good.”

“Good.” You hummed, happy to look at the expanse of his back. His back muscles were incredible.

It sometimes amazed you how fit he was, but with his daily runs and intense personal training sessions he somehow managed to squeeze into his routine, it really was no wonder that he looked the way he did. He worked his ass off to be as fit as he was and to stay that way and it all paid off because his physique was better than any boy your age.

You joined him in a personal training session once and you had no doubt any of the boys you had been with in the past would fail halfway through. Would you say you participated in said session? No. You were lugged over his shoulders so he could use your weight to do squats though.

“Are we okay?” Harry asked suddenly, voice soft.

“Of course we are.” You replied instantly. “Why wouldn’t we be?” You continued rubbing circles on his scalp, massaging him to make it more pleasurable and relaxing. Your arms were already starting to ache a little, but it was worth it.

“I’m just making sure.”

“I love you, Harry. Nothing will change that.” You murmured, running your hands down from his scalp to massage his neck and over his shoulder. He echoed the sentiment, voice just audible over the water as your lips created the trail for your hands to follow; over his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, down to the middle of his back and as low as you could go without bending.

The tension was slowly leaving his body. Tense muscles melting and relaxing, his tense shoulders slumping until he was heavy on his feet. He was completely pliant to your touch and you couldn’t wait to wrap your arms around him and cuddle in bed. Part of you even wanted to skip dinner and head straight to bed.

“Rinse it, H.” You whispered, kissing a little freckle on his back before pulling back to give him space to turn around. He started scrubbing the shampoo out while you prepared his conditioner, rubbing it through your hands so it covered all your fingers.

“Y’know something interesting did happen today. It was quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood.” Harry mused, already feeling better just by your touch and loving words. He stayed facing towards you to catch your reaction, which was as easy to read as ever.

“What?” You froze for a split second while reaching to thread the conditioner through his hair, already knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Tracey was kicked out. Unfortunately I was already on my way to work but she was crying so loud everyone on the street was watching. Apparently, he found out she was cheating on him. You know anything about that?” He had this look of knowing on his face and it was like he knew that you had something to do with it.

Shit.

“About that…” you smiled sheepishly, putting your hands down to let the conditioner sit in his hair.

“I knew it!” He accused, laughing while squeezing your hips. “What did you do?”

“Okay, but you can’t be mad.” You laughed, poking his chest. “I was going to tell you tonight, okay?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” His brows knitted together, “I’m sure whatever you did had good reasoning behind it.”

“Well, yeah she’s a cunt but it’s not that.” Harry laughed loudly at your comment and you could feel his mood being lifted like steam dissipating in the air. You had such a fucking mouth on you sometimes. He loved it. “When I got home after we had that talk, everything was normal until my mum and I were watching TV after dinner. She said she had to talk about something and then just flat-out asked me if you and I were sleeping together! Like it was nothing.”

“Shit.” His eyes widened, “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the… truth.” You were a little nervous to tell him. A lot nervous actually. You knew he was ready to tell your parents whenever you were, but it felt wrong to have that conversation without him. But you couldn’t exactly call him or go over to his house after he just told you about his nephew. That would’ve been all sorts of fucked. Your mum knowing about you two dating meant nothing compared to what he was going through.

“You did?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry.” You rushed out. “I wanted you to know when I was going to do it but I couldn’t lie to her when she was straight out asking me the question.”

“And you thought I’d be mad?” He scoffed, laughing softly while tucking your hair behind your ear. “Baby, the only way I’d be mad is if you were pressured into doing something you weren’t ready for. Were you okay having that conversation with her? I know… I know you weren’t ready to tell your parents yet.”

“Harry she asked me because Tracey was talking shit. After everything, everything we went through and all the fucked up shit she did and she still can’t leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to her.”

That manipulative cunt.

Harry didn’t like to use that word very often. Other than the obvious use when he was trying to degrade you. But there was simply no other word in the English language that summed up who Tracey was. Desperate? Yes. Annoying? Just the sound of her breathing had Harry gritting his teeth. But the only word that truly encompassed everything about her was cunt.

He had no idea that her being kicked out was because she was causing problems again. He assumed it had something to do with you because you were cheeky and sneaky at times, but he didn’t expect this. After everything that happened, he thought you guys were done with her.

“What the fuck? Fucking hell, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was getting a little frustrated at you now and you could see it in his expression. You just grabbed his hair and tilted his hair back, forcing his hair back under the water to rinse the conditioner out. Even though he was annoyed you didn’t tell him, he was still pliant to your touch and it took very minimal effort to maneuver his head.

“Because we just spoke about your family and my drama literally doesn’t matter compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t want to bother you and then I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Of course it matters.” He scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit by yourself. I thought she was dealt with, but clearly not. How long have you known?”

“I found out when my mum asked me about us. I had no idea anything was happening before that.”

“So… what? Tracey’s been running her mouth?”

“Basically.” You sighed, still running your fingers through his hair to get rid of the last bits of conditioner. “She hasn’t said anything directly, but she’s been making comments and saying random things that makes people think that we’re sleeping together. At least that’s what my mum said.”

“I don’t get why she’s doing this.” He sighed, “You’ve moved out and we’ve left her alone after everything that happened. She’s got no reason to come after us again.”

“Like I said, she’s a cunt.” Your words came out matter-of-factly, eliciting a roll of Harry’s eyes. “She’s probably bored and thinks that it’s easy to use me to have her fun because I’m not there to defend myself.”

“Bullshit. I’m there to defend you. Why isn’t she scared of me?” Harry scoffed, eliciting a laugh in response.

“Harry she’s obsessed with you and even if you blackmailed her and stomped all over her old wrinkly heart, she still wants you.”

“I didn’t stomp over anything. And I’m taking your old wrinkly statement as an insult.”

“Yeah right. You love being the ripe age of 39. ‘I get sexier with age, y/n’.” You quoted, attempting to mimic his low raspy accent. He raised a brow and immediately went for your sensitive spots, squeezing your waist with light twinkling fingers in an attempt to tickle you. “Stop!” You squealed, hitting his hands away. “Stop it Harry!”

“Admit I get sexier as I age. Admit it.” He threw back, wrapping one arm around your waist while using the other to tickle you.

“I hate you!” You tried to push his hand off, laughing and wiggling and squealing all at the same time. It didn’t help that you two were still very much naked. “Whatever. You’re sexier as you age.”

The tickling stopped instantly and Harry had this smug grin on his face, happy that he beat you. “Thank you.”

“You’re a child.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come on. Finish the story.” He laughed softly, looping his arms around your waist.

“I don’t even know what I was up to before your ego got bruised.”

He chose to ignore that statement. “You were explaining how obsessed Tracey is with me.”

“Oh, right. She’s obsessed with you so obviously she won’t be scared and she’s not threatened by me. She really didn’t think that I’d retaliate in any way even if I told her I would and now look at her. I think I handled it pretty fucking perfectly.” You announced proudly.

It felt a little evil to be so happy over someone elses pain. You had ruined Tracey’s life and yet you were satisfied. It felt justified. In the beginning you never wanted to use your threats against her. You just wanted to be left alone, even if that meant sitting on evidence that she was having an affair. Now though… you felt worse about keeping it a secret than using it to get back at her.

“I’d say so.” Harry laughed. “How did it all happen?”

“She goes to pilates on Sundays so I waited until she was gone and went over to speak with Oscar. All I did was tell the truth and show him one of the photos of her and Ethan. I felt really bad for him, actually. He believed me even before I showed him a photo but he still wanted to see it, probably for proof so he doesn’t have to pay her out.”

“Well shit.” Harry laughed, quickly turning you both around so you got some of the hot water. “He clearly didn’t take it well.”

You shook your head. “No. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I feel like I should’ve told him earlier.” You looked away for a moment, “it feels wrong to use one persons tragedy to get back at someone else. Like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him and I used it to get back at her. He doesn’t deserve that. Neither do his kids.”

“I know. The truth had to come out some way, though. It always does. Don’t blame yourself too much for it just because you benefited from it in some way. ” He grabbed your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him. “How did your mum react when you told her about us, anyway?”

You were glad he was switching back to your mum because you really didn’t want to dwell to much on Tracey of all people. Or the shittiness you felt.

“She already knew before Tracey started talking about us. She had this look on her face like she was waiting for me to outright say it.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah… she said it was mother’s intuition or whatever. I’m surprised she waited this long to say something about it, to be honest. She usually can’t keep her mouth shut and she already had a glass of wine when we spoke about it.”

Harry smiled at your comment, smoothing his hands over your back. “Was she upset about it? What did she say?”

“We spoke about it for a long time. She wasn’t upset but not thrilled either. I told her how happy I am and a little bit about our relationship so far and she seemed happy that it’s going well, but she’s still worried. I think she’s worried about the age gap and… well, your reputation. She doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

You didn’t really want to go through the entire conversation with him. Nothing bad happened but it also felt like something that just you and your mum needed to know about. She gave you a lot of advice that made you feel lucky to have someone like her in your life. She was concerned but she actually listened to you, even when the conversation went a little wild, she listened to you and shared her own opinion as well. It went as well as you could’ve hoped.

“My reputation as in…”

“Your one night stands. Obviously, I assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it. She thinks you’re charming but I think that also scares her. You’re the first real relationship I’ve had and it’s not exactly conventional and… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking away for a moment, “She said that she hoped my first love would be someone my age, that I’d date more before feeling so strongly about someone.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. So far, your mum’s concerns were valid ones and ones he expected. He never thought it would be easy or something your parents would understand right away and he prepared himself for that. They weren’t much older than him so navigating his relationship with them and you would take time.

But he didn’t like the way those words came out of your mouth. That your mum hoped your first love was someone else and that you had more experience with other people before settling down. You two weren’t exactly planning for a baby or anything, it had barely been four months, and neither of you put any expectations on your relationship. You were young and he never imagined himself as the marrying type so you both just wanted to date and love each other and see how things evolved.

But you were still in it for the long haul with each other. This wasn’t a short term arrangement or something casual. You two loved each other.

For Harry, he had already experienced heartbreak in all forms and he had grown from that. The Harry that survived his very first love was a completely different person to now. It wasn’t the only thing that shaped him to be the man he was today, but it contributed a lot to his life. He was at a point in his life now where meeting you and falling in love with you had completely changed how he thought his life would go.

He wanted to settle down with you. He couldn’t picture a future without you in it and you made it very clear that you loved him more than anything and you wanted to have that future with him.

But you didn’t have what Harry had. You didn’t have years of making mistakes and meeting people and exploring yourself. Of figuring out who you are and what you want in life. You can do that with a partner and Harry knew he could show you the world and provide experiences you might not have if you were by yourself, but if you took the romance and his undying love for you out of the equation, would he encourage you to give your all to him?

If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to keep their options open and grab any opportunities given to them. Was he holding you back from that?

“Do you wish you did? Have more relationships before me?” He solemnly asked, brows knitted together while he waited your reaction.

That was a hard question to answer. But you had no regrets in dating Harry and that’s all that mattered. “In some ways, yes. I wish I had more experience in how to navigate even being in a relationship. But mostly no. There’s no one else I’d want to share my firsts with. In a lot of ways, you’re my first everything and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” You cupped his face, running your thumbs under his cheeks. “Loving you is the happiest I’ve ever been and hopefully now, the people we love will be part of that too.”

Harry’s gaze softened and time seemed to still around you two. Having this conversation in such a vulnerable place like a shower only added to the intimacy of it all. You had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs. It happened with a look or a sigh, your gorgeous smile. And it definitely happened when you said things like this.

“I want to give you the world, y/n. I want to give you everything you want. You tell me and it’s yours.” He murmured, gazing deep in your eyes.

“I just want you.” You whispered, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against yours. His wet hair dripped down your cheek, running down your jaw and neck, all the way until it joined the water at your feet. “I just want you too. Always.”

You smiled and pulled his mouth down towards you, pressing your body against his to get impossibly closer to him. He wrapped his arms fully around you, squeezing you against him so every inch of your pretty soft skin melted into his. Your mouths blended into one, lips brushing together in a slow languid kiss.

His tongue slid across your bottom lip and you freely gave him access to your mouth so he could slip in and run his tongue against yours. God, everything about it was so sexy. The steam clouding over you both, how good your wet bodies felt pressed together… the way his cock started to harden against your thigh, unable to spring up in that way you loved due to how close you two were.

“I think…” You gasped, breaking free to run your mouth over his jaw. “You should finish your shower…” You pressed kisses in a path towards his ear, kissing his lobe once you got there before playfully tugging at it between your teeth. Harry whimpered in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your ass in both hands. “...and join me in bed.”

With that, you kissed his neck then unwrapped yourself from his arms, smirking as you slid past him to grab your towel. His hand snapped out suddenly, clasping around your wrist. “Don’t go.”

Harry looked like a starved man. His chest was heaving, cock heavy and hard between his legs and his lips all red and puffy from your kisses. You would’ve fucked him right there if shower sex didn’t scare the hell out of you.

“I’ll get you a towel.” You blew him a little kiss, ignoring the crazed look in his eyes and walking away. Oh did you love a tease.

It wasn’t long before Harry had you pinned to your bed, grinding his hips in slow deliberate strokes. Your entire love making was just that, making love. It was slow and deep, full of so many kisses you could barely breathe. His body was pressed heavy on top of you and he made sure you felt every inch of him that you could. Every inch of his cock, every inch of his heavy muscle and soft sweaty skin.

The window above your bed was still open, a clear view of the moon above your heads. It was a view you two decided was worth putting your pillows down by your feet when you were finished so you could lay the opposite direction and look outside. You had a nice view of the water, though it was particularly dark outside and the moon was so bright it took your entire process.

“I still can’t believe she knows.” Harry murmured, looking up from where his head rested on your chest.

“Who?” You whispered, missing the context of his comment, “My mum?”

“Mmh.” he nodded, looking down to where your hands were joined and resting on your stomach. “It feels… good. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like we’re moving onto the next step.”

“I feel the same. I feel better knowing she’s supportive. I had a feeling she would be, but it’s nice knowing I’ve got her on my side when we tell my dad.”

“Mmh.” He hummed in agreement, looking at the string of pearls around your neck. You put them back on after the shower and he found himself mesmerised by the way they twinkled under the moon light. “y’know I told my mum I was seeing someone. After our weekend away.”

“You did?” you frowned slightly.

“I didn’t say anything too personal or anything because we were keeping it quiet.” He assured, sensing the slight panic in your voice. “But I wanted her to know I have someone in my life who makes me happy.”

You smiled, that slight beat of worry completely gone. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. Just your name and that you’re studying. I didn’t want to show her any photos without asking you. She gets a bit excited and I knew if I sent her something she’d tell everyone about it.” He rolled his eyes, but you could tell by his tone that he loved that quality about her. Pausing, he looked from the moon to you. “I think you’d like her.”

“She sounds like my type of gal.” You grinned, “I’m excited to meet her.”

“I think she’d cry if you said that. Happy tears of course.”

You laughed softly, swiping your fingers through his hair. It had dried down after the shower and your activities and became all fluffy and dishevelled. You loved it in its natural state.

“Would you like to meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice soft so only you could hear it. There was no one in your apartment but you yet the moment was so intimate and quiet, he didn’t want to ruin it. “We could facetime?” He looked up at you, expression hopeful for your response.

“Harry I’d love that.”

“Really?” His eyes widened ever so slightly, like he was surprised you’d agree. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” You assured, smiling while dancing your fingers across his jaw. “Set it up. Whenever suits her.”

“Okay.” He grinned, reaching up to kiss you quickly before settling back down on your chest to look out at the moon, “I will.”

It felt so right and natural to take this next step. There were nerves about it, of course, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared that Anne wouldn’t like you or that you’d make a fool out of yourself. But you knew a decent amount about her and even if you didn’t, you knew you’d love her simply based off the fact you loved Harry. That was enough.

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cinnamon-girl-writes · 3 days

Text

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman . . .

gentlemanly things the jjk men do ! feat. gojo, nanami, geto, choso, higuruma, yuuji, megumi

fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

gojo

Im’ma be real, it was hard af to come up with something serious for this man

but I’m gonna go with: he always opens doors for you and never lets you open them yourself

whether it be your car door or a restaurant, he’s always there just a step ahead of you to make sure his princes doesn’t have to do any work <3

*coughs* he also does it to stare at your ass from behind *coughs*

nanami

opposite of gojo, i couldn’t stop thinking of gentlemanly things this man *wouldn’t* do— anyways

nanami is the man who compliments you on more than just your appearance <3

of course, he tells you how beautiful you are all the time

but the best thing about this man is when he tells you how smart you are, or how he loves that your jokes always make him laugh

he’ll compliment your dtermined attitude or your loving nature

if you’ve been working really hard lately, he takes notice and tells you that you’re doing great

overall just. 10/10

geto

soooo geto has a history (in canon) of feeling unneeded/underappreciated

SO wwhat i think he’d always do for his partner is make a deliberate effort to tell them that

every day he finds a way to tell you: you matter to me and i need you in my life <3

sometimes it’s random, like when you’re laying and the couch and he tells you

or sometimes it’s more of a show, like him taking you out to dinner just to show you he appreciates you

choso

while romantic relationships are a little new to him, he treats his relationship with you very seriously

that being said, he notices whenever you’re stressed out about something

so to help you with this, he takes on whatever tasks are burdening you: your kids are driving you crazy? he’s great with kids. the dishes on your counter have been sitting there for two weeks? don’t worry, he’s got it

overall probably one of the best on this list

higuruma

this man- *ovulates*

anyways . . . like nanami he’s another epitome of gentlemanliness, however higuruma doesn’t have that much free time to spend with you because of his job as a lawyer

so when he is with you, he deliberatly asks you about how your day was. he’ll listen to every word you say and ask questions, wanting to get every detail out of you (and also, maybe he just likes the sound of your voice :))

but regardless, hearing about your day is very important to him

oh, you’ve got gossip about people he doesn’t even know?? he’s SAT

he listens to every detail, stopping you to ask questions and make sure he’s following the story

the KING of giving advice

yuuji

yuuji doesn’t necessasrily stick to formalities, but one thing he always pays attention to is the SIDEWALK RULE <3

like you swear this guy has a sixth sense or something because you literally never find yourself walking on the outside of the sidewalk

if you ever ask him about it, he just says he doesn’t do it on purpose but just always puts your safety first

megumi

poor megs didn’t really have a great example of being a gentleman growing up :( so this stuff is kind of hard for him

i would say in general he just has a pretty hard time with giving/recieving affection

but that being said, megumi puts a lot of thought into everything in your relationship

dates that he plans out are always extremely well thought out according to your interests and likes

his gifts are usually hand made, but if he does pick something out it’s very personal, usually something that you’ve been mentioning a lot lately

a/n: no i did not inclde toji because as much as i love his broke ass, for the life of me i could not think of one single gentlemanly thing about him

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beejunos · 1 day

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UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you.

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was.

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption!

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge!

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel.

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently.

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory.

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?"

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face.

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner!

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work.

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you.

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you.

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen.

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?"

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again.

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod.

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you.

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing.

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel.

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath.

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled.

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints.

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction.

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to?

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you.

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door.

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes.

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes.

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him.

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin.

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form.

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying.

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs.

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now."

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid.

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!"

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see.

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago.

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire.

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough.

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch.

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x reader angst #hazbin hotel alastor x reador angst #hazbin hotel angst

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roosterforme · 20 hours

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick."

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

--------------------------

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy.

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget."

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him.

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much."

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

-------------------------

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday.

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything."

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end.

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch."

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm."

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

-------------------------

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her."

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions.

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you."

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

----------------------------

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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psychotrenny · 2 days

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Lancer is a funny because of how much it insists that Union is this flawed but ultimately benevolent institution that's well on the path to improvement, a "utopia in progress" as they love to say, when like they casually reveal so many things about it that show Union as rotten to the fucking core. Like as much as Lancer fans like to go on and on about how it's an imperfect society that needs to make compromises, there's so much awful shit about Union that just seems pointless or easily avoidable.

And like part of this is the creator's politics; they're social democrats so it's not surprising that Space Sweden is their idea of a society that, if not the best we could possibly achieve, is at least the best we can do for the foreseeable future. As a Marxist-Leninist it's only natural that I'd have a condemnatory view of such a society just as I do for real Social Democracies; my idea of an achievably "good" society is just fundamentally different from that of the creators But like Lancer is also full of little details that just seem fucked up and awful even from the values and viewpoint of Social Democracy. Like stuff that's just as bad, if not worse, than a lot of sci-fi Dystopias. Like why the fuck does Union have a CIA that's run by a group of super-computers with the actual elected legislature having an advisory role but no actual jurisdiction and this fact being kept secret from the vast majority of the populace? Not much of a democracy if one of the most powerful institutions in the entire political body is free from any kind of democratic or even fucking human oversight while most people aren't even allowed to have an opinion on this because they aren't allowed to know about it. Or what about the caste of Janissary diplomats (like was it really necessary to take children and train them like they're the jedi of interplanetary relations) who come with customised computer slaves. Like yeah don't forget about the fucking SCP computer slavery thing, which is completely fine (except for the times it isn't I guess). Like it's basically the weirdest and most uncomfortable part of Star War's setting imported near whole-cloth only like the regular mindwipes are justified because otherwise they'll full Durandal and you don't want that do you? Look how happy and content they are being forced to think like humans while acting as loyal servants. Btw Union is somehow even less denazified than West Germany. Significantly so. They literally gave Hitler Corp. (a fucking weapons manufacturer so powerful they call it a "corpro-state"!) a seat at the UN. While allowing their Blue Helmets to keep using those Nazi-made weapons. And like Third Comm is repeatedly described as doing basically the same shit that Second Comm did but with more "Care" or whatever so don't worry it's fine now.

Like I can just keep going on and on like I'm not making this up this isn't some like weird expansion this is all from the core rulebook. I get that there has to be conflict and tension but like why did they need to make their ostensible good guys so fucking awful like these are the people you're meant to feel good about fighting for why did you need to fill them with the sort of details you'd see in some cautionary dystopia? And like why do actual people keep defending these guys? Like once you get down to it Union manages to be less Space Sweden and more* "The Ottoman Empire with Pronouns"

*to borrow a phrase coined by a mate while we were talking about this

#lancer

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st4rtar0t · 1 day

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Details about your future partner

physical appearance, astrological details and more

In this pick a picture we will get to know some information about your future partner, this can even be your future spouse or somebody you will have a long term relationship with. I know you are really curious about them so why not read this and like and share if you feel that this reading has resonated with you?

Pick a picture from below

DM for personal readings.

Picture one

Some of you may already know this person. I see that you know this person from a work setting. They are really hardworking and they put their best in everything they do. They are a master at their craft. I also see that they have had their heart broken in the past and they no longer want to take any risks. This person is really attractive and a lot of people have their eyes on them. They know how to have deep conversations and I also see that they hate small talk. They are always energetic and have a youthful smile. However they have a sense of mystery around them. It's like they are always Hiding a part of them from others. They are family oriented and they will always put their family before anyone else. I also see that they are just your type. They are really protective of the people they love and they will do everything in their power to help others around them. You may Meet this person through social media or through an online platform. I see that you guys will be talking a lot to each other. For some of you, this person is already stalking you and you can feel it. The only reason why this person isn't approaching you is because of their past relationship. This person is really attracted to you and they want to have long term relationship. They only date to marry.

Physical attributes: dark/tanned skin, buzz cut, brunette, ginger hair, puppy face, golden retriever energy, sharp jawline, narrow eyes, thick eye lashes, blue/brown eyes, wide nose.

Key words: childish, eyes on you, watching, spiritual union, lust, lesson, co-worker, short trip, water body, fox, R,A,T,M,O. Explorer, possessive, lots of love, overflowing love.

Astrological details: Virgo rising, Taurus moon, Mars in Aries, Venus in 2nd house, Gemini Mercury, Neptune in 12th house.

Picture two

They are definitely spiritual and if not spiritual then they are definitely interested in being a better person every day. I also see that they have deep understanding of human heart and are quite empathetic. But that doesn't mean they'll carry the burden of others. I see that they like the freedom they have. It seems as if you already know this person or you will be getting to know them soon, sooner than you think. You first conversation may start as an argument or you may not like them at first, its giving enemies to lover vibes. You or they can be an introvert or One of you may not talk much. Some of you may have a fake account that you use to stalk people and they know about it? Or they may collect information about you before talking to you. I am getting a little to no information about them its like the universe does not want you to know about them, it may be a surprise.

Physical attributes : straight nose, beautiful side profile, big or unique ears, full lips, mole under eyes, sharp teeth, dark hair, blond hair or some, fit body.

Key words : bold choice of clothing, snap chat, sunglasses, 11, hot headed, red, T, V, X, May, October, November, pet dogs, younger sibling, gardening, leaf, watermelon.

Astrological details : Scorpio sun, Uranus in Pisces, Virgo moon, Venus in earth sign, Jupiter in 1st, mars in 4th, Libra moon, Pluto dominant,

Picture Three

( Some of you may also be attracted to picture 2)

They're kind of replaying old memories in their head at this moment. They have a tendency to always think about what could've been instead of living in the moment. Sometimes they're just not feeling it, like they're out of sync with everything around them. They feel as if the world is moving but they are frozen. but they are okay with it as long as are helping out and sharing what they've got. Their sense of accomplishment may come from helping other both financially and mentally. They're all about hard work, always grinding and putting in the work to make things happen. They don't like drama and competition, if they feel like you are competing against them they will just let you win. They'd rather keep things peaceful and drama-free. When it comes to love, they're total romantics, just going with the flow and following their heart. They may be a hopeless romantic. They have immense live for their work and they do for a living. They're always honing their skills and perfecting their craft, putting in the effort to be the best at what they do. And at the end of the day, they're someone who feels pretty good about what they've achieved, just living their best life and enjoying every moment. They are grateful for everything that comes their way. No matter blessings or blessing disguised as disasters. Just soaking it all in and feeling grateful for where they're at.

Physical attributes : coloured hair, red hair, tattoos, veiny hands, curly hair, big eyes, sharp jawline, locks, big hands, may wear boots most of the time.

Key words : Horse, 9, 24, 15, pink, water body, red velvet, Venessa, butterflies, absent father figure, garland, gold, nose ring. April, August, June.

Astrological details : Libra descendent, Uranus in 5th, mercury in 10th, Venus in 4th, Taurus Venus, South node in Virgo, Jupiter in libra, cancer rising,

#tarot reading #spirituality #tarotcommunity #divination #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot #pick a picture #pick a card #pick an image #future spouse #future #future lover #spiritual journey #love reading #love tarot reading #tarot readings #predictions

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kenntolog · 2 days

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Imagine cool bf Sukuna loser gf reader where reader is in the art room alone and he joins her and Sukuna initiates make out sheesh with her and she gets so flustered

𝝑𝝔 an: stop this is so cute!! i decided to add a little more details i hope u don’t mind anon!! original post is here, feel free to share your thoughts!!

cool boyfriend sukuna waits for everyone to leave the art class before ever entering the room because he knows his pretty loser girlfriend always comes out the latest.

you never see him coming up behind you as he makes his way from the open entrance and behind the neatly set up marbles to your desk, where you are seated peacefully, singing along softly and gliding your pencil across the paper calmly. your peace is eventually disturbed by his hands suddenly appearing on your shoulders as he pulls you into himself, noticing how you shut your sketchbook quickly and shriek loudly.

you go to push him away until your brain registers his laughter and you tug your headphones down, letting out an exasperated sigh. “‘kunaa! stop doing that, y’know i hate it!”

“heh,” sukuna pinches your cheek affectionately, one arm playfully settled around your neck while the other moves to ruffle your hair. “whatchu drawing there?”

that seems to fluster you as you look up at him and grip your sketchbook tighter, “nothing!”

“liar,” he sneers with a smirk and tries to pull it from your hands, hands that seem a lot more stronger with the way your grip is not easing. “you hidin’ something?”

“no, ‘kuna—”

he doesn’t let you finish, arms loosening around you to turn your chair over so you’re facing him, and puts his hand on your jaw, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks softly, not enough to hurt but enough to hold tight.

you stiffen, expression turning surprised as sukuna covers your slightly pouted lips with his, initiating a kiss. he’s quick with it, knowing how anything involving him showing any kind of affection make you putty in his hand, so he uses it so his advantage. your cheeks heat up under his fingers as you whimper and try your best to respond to him, melting under his touch.

sukuna smiles into the kiss knowingly, going slow and soft as his free hand strokes the back of your head mindlessly, to make you relax further. he sucks in your bottom lip gently, glides his tongue of it seductively before he dives deep once again, opening you up more.

it works wonders and soon enough you drop the sketchbook, gripping his shoulders instead as you try to tug him into you further, but he is an asshole so he bites your bottom lip and moves away with a victorious grin.

you let out a startled sound, looking up at him with shock.

“gotcha,” he whispers as he opens the sketchbook, quickly finding the last page.

“don’t!”

sukuna quickly recognises his figure on the page, eyes widening in surprise. a couple of sketches of his face and one of his body in his basketball uniform. and then he looks through earlier pages, finding himself sprinkled into your drawings even from last year. and his smirk grows mischievous at the realisation.

“this what you were hidin’?” he gazes at you, drinking in the way you cover your face with your hands. “you’ve liked me for a while now, haven’t you?”

you nod your head silently, still hiding from him.

he puts the sketchbook away and steps closer to you, hands coming up to pry yours away, “what a loser you are.”

you look up at him with glistening eyes, lips pouty and bitten by him.

“cute.” sukuna thinks out loud, as he pats the top of your head, enjoying the way you get embarrassed even more, burying your face in his shoulder.

#— miya writes!#i just love him being a menace #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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yestrday · 1 day

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: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

#yandere honkai star rail #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #yandere x reader #yester.writes

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skzstannie · 3 days

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"They found her"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

This is a part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone as there's not much reference to the original fic.

genre: hurt/comfort, angst wc: ~3,800 words cw: kidnapping, guns and gunshot wounds, hospitals, some brief cursing

Summary: Since the incident, the guys have been extremely over protective of you. You heed their warnings, but still go out unaccompanied by security on your vacation, only to have to pay the price for your poor decisions.

A/N: Hiiii, ik I've disappeared off the face of the Earth again, but I've brought gifts back with me this time. This one's a bit heavier, but it's the long awaited part 2 to "Did you know?", so I hope you guys enjoy. I hit 500 followers since the last time I posted, so this is kind of a celebratory post as well. Thanks guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

The time has come around again when JYP has given you and your members some well-earned personal vacation, and you've chosen to spend that time back at home with your family and friends.

Upon hearing about your vacation, your childhood friends started blowing up your phone, asking about when you'll be in and if you wanted to hangout. Of course, you've missed them just as much and gave them all the details of you're arrival.

The day of said plans has finally arrived, and you couldn't be more excited. You and three of your closest friends have decided to go to this cute breakfast cafe for brunch, run by all your favorite stores for some shopping, and then round your evening out with some bar hopping.

"You have got to see this!" Ha-Yoon, a friend you've known since grade school, explodes from beside you in the passenger seat, fanning herself. "Look at how hot this guy is? Think he'll give me his number if I DM him?"

"Are you being for real?" Dae cringes from the backseat, leaning forward to get a closer look at your friend's new internet crush. "He's kinda ugly."

This elicits a bickering match for the remainder of the drive, with you and your remaining friend, Soon-Bok, rolling your eyes at their silly banter.

You decided that you'd pick them all up from their homes, figuring that you'd get to spend some more time with them that way. You didn't really think about the fact that perhaps more time was synonymous with too much time. Just because you hadn't seen your friends in months, doesn't mean that they didn't see each other literally every single day.

With a clear of your throat, they stop insulting each other's fantasy love interests, both squealing when they realize you've pulled into the parking lot for the cafe.

The four of you get out of the car, you pulling your keys out of your purse to lock the doors. While walking towards the doors of the cafe, you're hit with a strange feeling- like someone's watching you.

Immediately, you whip your head around in search of anyone getting a little too nosey, but you come up with nothing. You keep your guard up though, knowing you can never be too sure.

Since the stage incident a few months back, you've been feeling a little paranoid. Understandably so, especially since the mean and threatening comments never subsided. It's gotten to the point where the staff have begun to send out a few extra security guards each time you leave the JYP building. In fact, JYP gave you all this nice little vacation in hopes it'd help some of the comments die down. To your dismay, they have not.

The guys have been incredibly protective since then, and you're actually grateful for it for once. Their constant questions about your whereabouts and wanting to tag along with you everywhere you go used to annoy you, but you'd never think to complain about it now.

Just this morning, having told them about your exciting plans for the day, they sent a barrage of texts telling you to be careful. Chan practically demanded you take a security guard with you, but for the sake of your friends' comfortability, you declined. Was it stupid? Possibly, but you're only wish for this vacation is to make things seem normal again. Having constant security around is not normal.

You placated Chan by telling him that your family knows of the places you'll be, and your family and the rest of your members all have your location at all times. He was reluctant, almost threatening to fly himself to your home just to go out on your little excursion with you, but he eventually gave way, not without first lecturing you about how important your safety is- like you didn't already know that.

~ ~ ~

"And then he pushed him down the stairs! How crazy!" Dae finishes, your eyes widening at how her story ended. She had just finished telling you all about how her boyfriend got into this big fight with a guy at the bar the other day. Apparently, the random man thought it acceptable to lay his hands on Dae, and her boyfriend did not appreciate that.

"Your boyfriend is so hot," Ha-Yoon comments, her eyes looking dreamily off into the distance.

"Excuse me?" Dae questions, raising a brow at Ha-Yoon's confession.

"I mean-"

"Ok!" you interrupt, pushing your chair back from the table you've all been sat at. The brunch was nice, catching up with your friends was much needed and the food was warm and comforting, but enough is enough, and your friends are starting to get a bit squeamish. "I need to use the restroom quickly, then we can head to the mall? Does that sound ok?"

There's a chorus of yesses, and they shoo you off into the restroom, picking up their phones to distract themselves until you get back.

You make your way to the back of the cafe, noticing how the bathrooms are secluded down a small hallway in the corner of the restaurant. Your eyes glance out the emergency exit door, and you tilt your head in confusion upon seeing a large white van sat outside it. It is not parked in a parking spot; it's just parked directly outside the door.

You quickly do your business, not wanting to keep your friends waiting for too long, and head back out to the front of the cafe. Stepping outside the restroom, a hand is immediately thrown over your mouth, a piece of foul smelling cloth pressed up against your nose. You try to scream, but this only causes you to inhale more of the chemical.

You fight, attempting to throw an elbow behind you to dislodge yourself from the person's vice like grip, but this only leads to your elbow being grabbed at a painful angle. You whimper slightly as the person pries your elbow behind you, and it almost feels as if your arm could snap if you were to move another inch. You become lightheaded, and it's hard to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. Unable to fight any longer, you give in and slump down into the arms which hold you captive.

~ ~ ~

"She's been gone awhile, I'm gonna go-" Soon-Bok is cut off by an alarm inside the cafe going off. All the customers heads perk up at the noise, their attention drifting to the employees.

The waitresses look to one another in confusion before one makes their way over to where you went for the restroom a few minutes before. The cafe is silent as the waitress disappears, looking for where the alarm would be coming from.

It's silent for another minute, before there's an audible gasp. She comes back with your purse in one hand and your cracked phone in the other.

Your three friends quickly get up from their seats, rushing over to the waitress. "Where'd you find this?" Dae asks, her eyes tearing up.

"Just outside the bathroom. I was just able to catch a glimpse of a van speeding off. Do you think someone was taken?" she asks, her eyes widening at the thought.

"I think- I think our friend was kidnapped," Ya-Hoon whispers.

~ ~ ~

"This is why I said she needed a security guard with her! This would have never happened!" Chan snaps at their management in anger, rising up from his seat in the meeting room.

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, the rest of your members were immediately brought back to the JYP building. They were all livid.

"Chan, I understand you're upset, but there's really nothing we can do now but wait-"

"Wait for what? Huh? Wait for her to just magically appear here?" Minho cuts off the head of security, his face red with anger.

"Of course the police are on the case and doing everything they can to find her. As for the eight of you, you are not to leave this building until we get all of this under control. Do you hear me? We do not need more than one missing member." JYP is stern as he speaks, leaving no room for discussion. "This meeting is dismissed. We will update you all if we hear anything."

With that, everyone else clears out of the room, leaving your eight members.

"This is awful," Felix says, his head hanging in his hands.

"No shit, Felix, why not state more of the obvious," Jisung narrows his eyes at Felix.

"We can't turn on each other," Changbin butts in, deterring them from getting into it any further. "We have to stick together and just wait this out. She's strong; she'll be ok."

"But what if she's not," Hyunjin speaks up for the first time since they got back. He's been huddled up against Jeongin since they got there, his head hung low. It's obvious he's been crying with the way his cheeks are stained with tears, his eyes red from how often he's rubbed them.

"We can't think like that," Chan says, moving over to Hyunjin. He lays a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Hyunjin immediately moves to the comfort of the leader, turning his head to hide it in Chan's chest. "They saw the van leave, it couldn't have been too long before the police were there. They'll find her, and then she'll be right back here with us."

"To never be let out of our sights again," Seungmin grumbles from the couch, wearing a similar expression to that of Felix's.

"Correct," Minho agrees, leaning back in his chair.

~ ~ ~

"Seungmin, you have to sleep. Staying up for 72 hours straight is not going to make her come back any faster," Chan lays his hand on the back of the boy's neck, slightly rocking him side to side.

"Maybe not, but I'll be the first to know when they find her," he counters, his bloodhsot eyes meeting Chan's. "You're one to talk; you haven't slept either."

Chan just sighs in response, plopping down on the couch next to him. It's quiet between the two of them, but neither are complaining about it. The peace is nice after what they've been through the past few days.

"Hyunjin hasn't stopped crying. Jeongin and Felix have had to take turns laying with him," Seungmin breaks the quiet, his soft voice travelling throughout the practice room. "Han hasn't eaten since we found out."

"I know, I've been trying to get everyone up and moving, but no one's interested."

"Chan, we're not expecting you to be the hero. We know you're in pain, too, and it's ok to act like it," it takes Chan a minute to process what Seungmin had said, but as his brain takes time, he realizes that it's been so long since he's cried, so long since he's truly let his emotions out.

With another moment passing, Chan's breath quickens and tears spring into his eyes. Without another thought, he turns his head into Seungmin's shoulder and cries. He cries for you, and how scared you must be right now, and he cries for the rest of his members, knowing how bad this is hurting them. He cries because he can't take away their pain or yours, not this time.

~ ~ ~

"Wake up." You feel a cold splash of water hit your face, and you're abruptly brought to consciousness. Your eyes open quickly in response to the cold, but you squint once you're hit with the blinding light coming from the ceiling light above you.

You try to talk, to say anything, but you quickly become aware of the duct tape placed snuggly over your mouth.

You gain some more proprioception, feeling the tightness of the rope around your wrists and how your ankles are tied to the legs of the chair you're currently sat on.

"Hey!" Your attention is brought to the large man standing in front of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of the gun in his hand. "Eyes here. And quit squirming so much!"

You freeze at that, stilling your movements. "Now listen here," you hear another guy say from across the room. You are just noticing him for the first time, and you realize that this guy in front of you must be the brawn of the operation. "We need some money. A lot of money. So, if you want to make it out of here alive, you need to call your family and have them bring us 350 million won. No less. Think you can handle that princess?"

Tears well in your eyes at the mention of death. You can't die like this, at the hands of these awful people. But you also know you don't want to get your family involved. So, deciding this is your best bet, you sit stoically. You look straight ahead, your focus unwavering.

"The silent treatment, huh?" You can see out of your periphery the man at the desk across the room stand from his chair. He makes his way towards you, but you pay him no mind, keeping your blank stare on the wall in front of you.

"If the threat's not enough to get you to talk, maybe this will be." He's quick to take the gun from the other man's hand, and before you can even flinch he's pointed it at your lower leg and let off a shot.

You choke on your own spit when the pain registers. You close your eyes and strain your body not to react, but there's only so much you can do. The tears you were successfully keeping at bay before now slide freely down your cheeks. Your hands are in tight fists behind your back, and you feel you may pass out from the white-hot pain radiating from your calf.

Your consciousness teeters, and all words being spoken by the men sound gibberish in your state. Just as you feel you may fall completely unconscious, you're startled by a loud bang from behind you. Your eyes lazily drift to the men, and you see their gazes widen before they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You make eye contact with the one that shot you, and that's the last thing you see before your eyes shut, your body and mind going completely numb.

~ ~ ~

The practice room door is flung open, bringing Chan out of his sleepy state. "What the hell? Be a little quieter would you," he mumbles, rolling his eyes at Jisung who stands in the doorway. For the first time since the news, Chan is attempting to get some sleep. It wasn't exactly on his own accord, though. After the constant hounding from the rest of the members, and even a threat from Felix that he'd sneak melatonin into his water, he decided it would probably be best for him to try and get some shut eye; he'll be of no use to anyone if he's delirious with sleep.

"They found her."

At this, all of Chan's previous drowsiness vanishes. He sits up from the couch faster than he ever has before, his joints cracking with such a sudden movement. "What?" he asks for clarification, fearing it might be too good to be true.

"They've found her. She's on the way to the hospital right now," Jisung's contagious smile makes more sense now, Chan wearing a similar expression.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" Chan stands from the couch in a rush, quickly slipping his shoes on.

"They're in the meeting room. They just bought our flight there, we're leaving now."

~ ~ ~

"Thank you," you tell the nurse, taking the small cup of water from her hands. It's been a few hours since you woke up from your unconscious state. Upon arriving at the hospital, they immediately took you into surgery to remove the bullet from your leg. Thankfully, it missed all the important stuff, leaving your bones completely in tact. You're left with some muscle damage, but the doctor assured you with some physical therapy you'd be back to normal again.

You're now laying in bed recovering. The wound has been stapled and is wrapped tightly. You have your leg resting on a couple pillows, hopefully to help prevent the swelling. Beside you on the couch is your family, having come in immediately upon hearing the news. Some silly K-Drama is playing on the T.V, but it's enough to keep your mind occupied for now, so you're thankful for it.

Nobody confirmed it for you, but you were sure your members were well on their way. Your family told you that you had been kidnapped for a few days. You told them you only remember being awake for a few minutes, but apparently they kept knocking you out again and again.

After talking with the police, you find that they were using you for ransom, and they kept knocking you out because they didn't have everything squared away yet; whatever that means, you're not quite sure.

As if on cue, the door to your room swings open, revealing Chan and Minho. They're out of breath and sweaty, looking as if they had just run a marathon.

You're given no time for formal greetings as they both launch themselves at you, throwing their arms haphazardly around you until you feel like you're squished beneath them. Your mom makes a protesting sound, but you wave her off with a gesture of your hand. They missed you, and you missed them. They weren't hurting you or anyone else by hugging you.

"You're never leaving our sights again," Chan says, his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

"Never ever," Minho agrees, his torso laid lightly across your lap.

"I'm okay-" you start, only to be cut off by an angry looking Chan. His face pops into view at your words, eyebrows furrowed.

"You are indeed not okay! You were kidnapped, unconscious for hours on end, and then shot! How are you possibly trying to convince us that you're ok?" Minho stands up at his outburst, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alive, and that's okay enough for me."

With your response bludgeoned into their minds, they both collapse on top of you in another hug.

You bask in their warmth a bit longer, only being interrupted with the door creaking open. Felix and Hyunjin stand there, teary and red-eyed.

"Your time's up," Hyunjin sniffles, moving out of the way of the door so the two can exit.

"We'll be back," Chan leans down to kiss your forehead while Minho grabs your hand, giving it an assuring squeeze.

They leave, and Felix and Hyunjin scurry in after them. They crowd around your bedframe, hesitant to even lay a hand on you.

"Hey," you whisper, reaching over to grab both of their hands, "I'm okay."

Hyunjin breaks down in sobs, and it only takes Felix a minute before he's right there with him. You let go of their hands and open your arms to welcome them in for a hug. Both of them hesitate again, but eventually bend down to give you the gentlest hug you've ever received.

"Does it hurt?" Felix mumbles, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

"They've got me on some serious meds, so no. It probably will when I come off of them, though. I haven't tried to walk-"

"And you wont either. Not for a long while," your mom cuts in from the couch.

"Thanks for your input, Mom."

"No problem," her gaze shifts to the boys, "She's been moody since she came out of surgery. They say it's because of the meds." They both let out a huffy laugh at that, and while you're absolutely dying to argue, you're just thankful to see Hyunjin and Felix smile.

There's another knock at the door, and all your heads snap to Changbin and Jisung. "Our turn," Jisung says, gesturing for Felix and Hyunjin to get out.

"We'll see you soon," Felix says before making his way to the door.

"Love you," Hyunjin says, hugging you for a second longer.

"Love you, too," you tell him, and you watch as he gets up and walks toward the door.

Once they're gone, Jisung and Changbin come into the room.

"Chan is never letting you out of his sight again; you know that, right?" Changbin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"Uh, not just Chan, all of us," Jisung argues. "You know how when girls go out they all have to, like, go to the bathroom together? That's about to be us bestie."

"Um, ew," you grimace just thinking about all your privacy being stripped from you.

"We'll wait outside, of course," Changbin says, trying to make you feel better.

"Oh, how thoughtful," you sass back, giving them a sarcastic smile.

"But for real though, are you ok?" The atmosphere turns serious at Jisung's inquisition. "We were all worried sick about you."

"I guess I could be better, but I'm gonna be just fine. Doc said some physical therapy and I'll be good as new."

"Did you know they didn't even realize you were an idol at first?" Changbin says, piquing your interest. "They said they thought they just picked up some random person at the cafe. Apparently that's why they kept you knocked out for so long; it made things more complicated."

"I did not know that, actually. The police only gave me a quick run down, said they'd be back later for some more questioning and to give us some more information."

Another knock is heard at the door, and you look to see Seungmin and I.N standing there, the last of your boys. "Our turn now, move along," Seungmin says, tapping his foot impatiently.

"That's our cue, we'll see you later." They both lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room.

Seungmin and I.N come in, seeming even more urgent than Chan and Minho did earlier.

They both come crashing down on top of you, all concern for the wires attached to you out the window.

Wanting to tease them, you say, "What if I was, like, seriously hurt? And now you two just came running in here like a pack of wild animals?"

"Give me a break, everybody said you were fine and that you were accepting hugs," Seungmin throws back, giving you a firm poke in the side.

You bark out a laugh at that, a smile gracing your features. "They also said that you hadn't smiled yet. So there," Seungmin nuzzles his head back into your shoulder, and you feel him breath a sigh against your neck.

"We missed you," I.N says from the other side where he's latched onto your arm.

"I missed you guys more."

"Not possible, I'd never seen any of the guys so worked up before. Chan didn't sleep the whole time you were gone, and as soon as we convinced him to, they found you," Seungmin says.

"Well, I'm here now," you comfort them, rubbing a hand on each of their backs.

"And we're never letting you go again."

~ ~ ~

Part 1

228 notes · View notes

hongjoongsart · 3 days

Text

Too Sweet | Jeong Yunho

🥃 Summary: Two complete opposites who are quickly falling for each other, one wanting more but the other afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

🥃 Pairing(s): upcoming rockstar!Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

🥃 Genres/Tropes: upcoming-rockstar au, opposites attract au, what could have been, fluff, angst, suggestive, hurt/no comfort

🥃 Warnings/Tags: Fem!reader, no use of Y/N, kinda yunho centric, explicit language, insecure yuyu, use of alcohol, smoking cig, arguments, mingi is a good friend, mention of religion and satan, stereotypes about rockbands, post-orgasm conversations, making out and brief nipple play (f receiving), a lot of crying, sad ending, not beta read and MDNI!!!

🥃 Wordcount: 19.9K

🥃 Author's note, pt.1: It's been a while....Here's a lil something inspired by hozier's too sweet. The way I have so many drafts for this story in different AUs. I couldn't decide whether to make it into an Idol AU or not, so I did a mix. 😭 It wasn't supposed to be that long either but apparently I have no limits when it comes to writing lmao. Keep in mind that I have little to no knowledge about instruments, rock bands, etc, so everything I know is from given (the anime), KISS and wikipedia. English isn't my first (or second) language, so if there are any errors please do tell.

AO3 masterlist Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent Yunho in any way or form.

The first time Yunho laid eyes on you he knew you’d never be his. Not because of some ancient family feud forbidding you from one another or because you were star crossed lovers in a dystopian world. No, it wasn’t anything dramatic like that.

You’d never be his because Yunho would simply not let it happen.

Yunho jumped off the makeshift stage set up in the corner of the saloon that waited on them each Friday night and walked through the drunken crowd of people. The band finished their weekly gig at Crescent and were being treated to drinks by the owner for bringing such a big crowd to the bar.

Slightly hunched over the counter, left forearm pressing against the smooth wooden surface while the other idly rested on his thigh and feet propped on the footrest, Yunho silently thanked the bartender for the drinks. One for him and the other for his bandmate seated to his right. The drummer brought a lot of attention to them, with his bleached hair styled to get that disheveled spiked look and handful of tattoos and piercings littering his body. Despite the flashy details, Mingi was quite the eye-candy. His thick lips and equally big and straight nose, made him popular with the ladies as well as the men, and not to mention his chiseled jaw. A big pair of shades covered his fox-eyes – he was too lazy to smudge some makeup on – and the miniature face tattoo reading ‘fix-on’ inked on his cheekbone, unlike the big butterfly on his neck that was fully exposed.

Yunho usually didn’t like sitting at the corner of the long bar, but it provided more space for his long legs and a better view to the rest of the room which, on second hand, he was grateful for otherwise he’d miss the door opening and the group of girls coming through. Each was different from the other, he thought as he skimmed past them only to back track at the last one trailing in.

Staring at you from across the room – a place he never imagined a speck of purity in – he swiveled the drink in hand, allowing the whiskey to swish around in the bottom before tipping his head back and letting some of the brown liquor cascade down his throat. Despite having a speaker right above his head, your angelic laughter still managed to reach Yunho’s ears and it was better than any melody performed by the next indie group. Eyes wandering down your figure, body clad in a white sundress with a pattern of miniature pink roses, he stopped at the heart shaped front giving a little tease of what hid beneath. The fabric hugged tightly around your torso and hips, then widened like a flower in bloom and stopped right above your knees. A gold necklace with a delicate heart pendant rested subtly near the crevic of your chest. Arms and legs bare, only a matching golden bracelet glinting on your right wrists and nails painted in white. You wore the cutest pair of pink ballet flats Yunho had ever seen and it brought a little smile to his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Mingi asked with a teasing tilt to his voice, a brow curiously arched and bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

Yunho shook his head and took another calculated sip of his drink.

“Nothing.”

“Right, so you didn’t just plan a marriage with the angel-look alike overthere, huh?” Mingi nodded towards the girls who were inching closer to an empty table. “She seems sweet.”

And sweet you were. Oh, so sweet. From your strawberry lip gloss to the notes of your brown sugar and vanilla perfume lingering in the air. Eyes twinkling in the dim lights and nose scrunching before a giggle came out at one of your friends’ jokes, hand automatically going up to cover your mouth.

“Well,” Mingi started and tapped his fingers against the bar, “if you’re gonna shoot your shot about now would be the time to do it.”

On cue you passed the two giants and stopped to the left of Yunho where you could get a clear view of the bartender, and hopefully catch his attention. Being the one to cancel the last outing, you took it on yourself to pay for the first round of drinks as a way of apologizing to the girls even if they didn’t chastise you for it.

You were prettier up close, Yunho thought as he scanned your profile. Pretty lips, gorgeous eyes and captivating makeup.

“Hey,” he finally said and slightly turned towards you.

A friendly smile splayed on his face and ears were slightly red either from his drink or the warmth from the heavily packed bar. Never one to turn down a conversation, you greeted him back with upturned lips and faced the front again. Luck wasn’t on your side as the bartender brushed past you on multiple occasions, eyes filtering over you as if you weren’t there. Not giving up, you let out a huff of annoyance and stepped closer. Standing on your tiptoes – not that you needed it, but maybe then you’d get his attention – and arms crossed over the surface you followed his movements, eyes burning into him but to no avail. The man took order after order and not once did you get the chance to speak up. Yunho, who watched the whole thing play out, slightly raised his hand and the bartender spawned before him in seconds. Lips parted in disbelief, you couldn’t believe how easy the dark haired man made it out to be. There you were, waiting like a dog for a crumb of attention while he got it with a lift of his fingers.

“This pretty lady has been wanting to order for a while now,” Yunho stated calmly, yet his eyes were hard as steel.

Saying nothing, the bartender turned to you with a raised brow, quietly urging you to spit it out.

“Two mojitos, one martini and mai tai, please.” As the bartender got to work, you thanked the guy with the helping hand.

“No worries, it tends to get rather busy here on Fridays…That’s a lot for just one lady though.”

“Well, this lady didn’t come alone.”

In any other circumstance, Yunho would interpret the statement as snarky and a telltale of not being interested but your soft spoken words said the complete opposite.

“Ah, there go my plans of buying you a drink.”

Taking a better look at the man you realized he was quite handsome. Face full of delicate features; a long nose, thin cupid’s bow mouth and eyes soft but dark as the handful of oak trees outside. The smokey makeup fit the whole wanna-be-rock-star-look and so did the ring protruding from the left side of his bottom lip. His mass of black and burgundy hair was ruffled up and parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Blue pants with interesting design swirls fit around his legs and he wore a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his perfectly formed biceps and shoulders. A bunch of silver necklaces hung around his neck and each finger was adorned with one or two rings; some thin and plain, and others thick and covering whole digits. So not only was he handsome, but had a good fashion sense too. All he was missing was the sleeve of tattoos and you’d dub him a real rock star. Eyes crinkling and lips pursing in an almost teasing manner, you decided to take a huge leap of faith.

“Who’s to say you still can’t?”

The teasing remark indicated you didn’t know he was a member of Blue Bird and it sent waves of relief through him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want you to know about the band, but most people that did only approached him because of it and not his personality. Starting a conversation with ‘fuck me like a rockstar’ quote unquote, wasn’t the best way to get into Yunho’s pants.

“Perhaps the partner you came with.”

Yunho’s chin rested against the palm of his hand, brows slightly raised and lips quirked up.

“Lucky for you, it’s just me and my girlies.”

“As much as I’d like to crash ladies night, let’s do this instead. I’ll give you my number and you text me when you’re feeling for another drink, on me, yeah?”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, you subconsciously leaned closer to him. Slightly swaying side to side with eyes trained on him, completely missing the entertained look on Mingi’s face who watched the interaction with glee. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d pick a person up from a night out, even upcoming rock stars had needs to quell, but something was telling Mingi you weren’t interested in a quickie in the bathroom. Forever engraving the image of his friend smiling at a girl that was the complete opposite of him, Mingi smiled. Perhaps you were the cube of sugar Yunho needed with his all too bitter coffee.

The second time Yunho laid eyes on you he really wished for things to work out. That despite your differences you’d find a balance solid enough to keep a healthy relationship. While Yunho usually wasn’t a naive guy, his adoration towards you weighed heavier than any rational thought screaming at him to cut the interaction short. Wanting to bask just a little more in the sunlight that was you, Yunho decided – for once – to be selfish.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when you stepped foot in a, you wouldn’t call it a rundown neighborhood but it wasn’t that wellkept either. The playgrounds made for kids were far from eye-catching with the once vibrant colors taken over by rust that even you – an adult – wouldn't try out the rides. The navigation in your phone chimed as you entered a white building identical to the other structures and began climbing the several flights of stairs, re-reading Yunho’s instructions of how to get to his place. Chest heaving and cheeks ablaze, you sent three rapid knocks against the door. One would believe the resident’s surname to be somewhere near but that wasn’t the case as only the apartment number in metal was drilled on the wall beside. The door swung open and you were greeted by a smiling Yunho, the lip ring glinting in the corridor lights.

“Hey, I was worried you wouldn’t find your way here but you’re a pro.”

While you weren’t dressed in a cute sundress, you still looked as sweet with your pink knitted sweater and light blue pants. What really took his breath away were the bright bows in your hair. If you were the sun then Yunho was the moon with his dark bottoms and identical hoodie thrown over the only bright fabric on his body.

“Now you know not to underestimate me, Yunho.”

Hands thrown up in surrender, he walked backwards as you followed in tow.

“Consider the lesson learned.”

The apartment was neater than expected – white walls, laminated flooring and a few family pictures hanging here and there – considering it was in the care of two guys and the interior proved that as the living room solely consisted of a sofa big enough for two with a small coffee table in the middle and the biggest plasma TV you had ever seen nailed to the wall. On the brightside there weren’t any dirty underwear or rotten leftovers lying everywhere.

“Well this is my place, or mine and my roommate’s, but still welcome.”

“It looks nice,” you honestly responded and that counted as a victory in Yunho’s books.

“Thank you, obviously I do all the furniture shopping. My friend isn’t all that interested in the interior of the place as long as we have somewhere to sit and sleep.”

The kitchen was shaped in an upside down L with black tiled floor starting from the threshold, the walls were still white. The slimmer and oblong part consisted of black marble counters and the usual mechanics that had a little shine to them telling you they cost a good penny. In the wider part of the kitchen was a round table and a set of four chairs. Black curtains were drawn together yet you could make out an empty balcony through the small gap. There weren't a lot of miscellaneous decorations in the place, as if the apartment was barely in use but to stay the night. Taking a seat by the dinner table, you rested your chin against your palms and smiled as Yunho opened the fridge.

“Ah, is that why there’s a massage chair in the hallway?”

The cold temperature chilled Yunho’s burning cheeks. Collecting himself, he slid you a can of coke and took out the rest of the preparations he needed to make dinner.

“That’s one of Yeosang’s many dumb investments, once again why I’m in charge of the interior.”

“He’s the one with the neon green hair, right?” You recalled as the different faces came to mind.

“Yup.”

It dawned on you that all of Yunho’s friends were strikingly handsome, but Yeosang was by far the prettiest. With a face of both sharp and soft features he was sculpted better than any ancient Greek statue, and possessed a jaw sharp enough to cut through skin. His eyes were large and dark but with a gentle shape to them, just like his heart shaped lips. A raspberry smudge bloomed by the side of his upper cheek, another pretty and heart shaped detail to his already unique face. His hair was long enough to be tucked behind his ear with some neon green strands falling in his line of sight. This man could very well fit in the Louvre and no one would bat an eye.

The afternoon continued pleasantly as dinner was made. Yunho, who had barely any cooking knowledge, relied on you who relied on an online recipe. Saving you the trouble of accidentally burning down the kitchen, Yunho decided to cut up vegetables and prepare the table while you were responsible for the chicken and ramen that turned out great considering neither having prior-experience of making a real meal. The success was celebrated with a brand new flask of wine that Yunho apparently saved for special occasions, completely dismissing your protests.

“So what does the Yunho do for a living?”

The question wasn’t foreign to him as everyone back in Gwangju asked it – some out of spite and others with genuine curiosity – yet anxiety seeped under his skin, raising the hair along his arms as his doe eyes widened. Noticing the lack of mischief behind your choice of words, he willed himself to relax and masked the surprised expression with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Considering we barely know anything ‘bout each other…yes.”

Despite having alcohol in your system you noted the hesitation flash across his features, shoulders sagging and fingers slightly clenching around the utensils. It hit you that everything besides his governmental name – and the fact that he lived with a roommate who was working late – was undisclosed. For a moment you entertained the idea of Yunho going under a false name or that you could possibly be on a date with a geondal. Why else would he invite you to his home and not somewhere public? You made a mental note to share your location in the group chat just to be on the safer side. The motion of his hand going to scratch the back of his neck plunged you out of your wild fantasies.

“Okay, but it might come as a shock…or not, we’ll see.”

That did not help his geondal-agenda and Yunho took notice of your sudden silence, quickly waving his hand in a no-motion.

“It’s nothing bad I promise. It’s just…not a normal nine to five job and it’s, well, not many are supportive of it and it doesn’t…pay much.”

The piece of chicken in your mouth wasn’t as satisfying anymore. Thinking it probably couldn’t hurt to know considering he was so willing to share it, you slowly nodded. Instead of giving an immediate answer, Yunho inhaled deeply and ran his hand through his black locks.

“I’m the lead guitarist of Blue Bird with three other guys…and Yeosang’s our manager.” Yunho scratched the back of his head, “I’m sorry for not saying anything earlier but I figured you didn’t know and I wanted to keep it that way so you wouldn’t build an image of me based on what other people say. Now that I’m saying it outloud I realize how dumb that was and quite selfish of me and I’m sorry if that offends you?”

“Oh, oh! Not that all! It explains a lot actually, I mean I thought you were just dressing as a rockstar but now that I know you’re one, let’s just say it makes sense.”

The sincerity brought him ease and eyes turned soft again. Yunho never blushed but his ears always gave him away, currently glowing red like the organic tomatoes in the cornershop and lips pulled in a gentle smile. The whole exchange was going smoother than anticipated and he only hoped it wouldn’t ruin the friendship you built up so far.

“Plus, it’s not that far from what I had in mind,” you continued.

“And dare I ask what you would guess then?”

“Fine, but you can’t laugh at me for it, promise?”

Reaching over the table you held out your pinky finger, waiting for him to latch onto it with his own.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

Ignoring the swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you took a sip of the red wine and cleared your throat.

“A body artist.”

Almost choking on his ramen, Yunho coughed and recovered before you could think much of it.

“I think you’ve got the wrong impression. I’m not anywhere near suitable for that job, like I hate the feel of shit piercing skin and I can’t draw for the life of me.”

“Well, I blame the rings and clothes. And besides, what is it really that determines how good of an artist you are? I mean art is a personal thing, just like music, right? Obviously not everyone’s going to like everything you do but it doesn’t mean it’s badly done. So I don’t think it’s a question of how good you are, rather a question of personal taste.”

Speechless. You had rendered him speechless. A few years ago, when Yunho revealed he wouldn’t be applying for college and would try the one in a million chance of becoming a superstar, everyone was against it, claiming that the career wouldn’t last long and he’d eventually return back to Gwangju empty handed (not to mention the claims he was being possessed by Satan). The only one giving him enough support to cover for his absent family was Yeosang, who followed Yunho to Seoul, and now you, practically a stranger he hadn’t even known for more than a few weeks.

As you looked up from your bowl, you were startled at his baffled expression and immediately put down your utensils.

“Did I say something wrong?”

His heart beat loud in his chest and palms grew sweaty under your curious gaze. Mouth parted as he struggled to answer the question and finally settled on an awkward chuckle.

“No, it just…caught me off guard,” he assured and quickly averted the spotlight on you. “Enough of me, I want to know more about you. Tell me, what do you do then, is it something more exciting than dancing in a room all day?”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s nothing cool like yours–”

“And I wouldn’t think anything less of you either way.”

Smiling like a thousand suns you said, “I’m a preschool teacher.”

Of course, Yunho thought, even your line of work had to be cute. It was only right for a kind soul like yours to be at a place surrounded by everything innocent and pure. Although Yunho liked performing and singing in front of others, staying awake until the early hours of the morning, perfecting different riffs and learning new pitches of singing, he didn’t like how it added to the growing distance between you.

“Would you look at that, I think you’re even sweeter now.”

You took a bite of the food as you let the revelation sink in. The compliment getting to your head and warming your cheeks. You had been called every sweet adjective under the sun. Cute, endearing, angelic, the words were a repetitive mantra in your life but hearing them from Yunho made you feel like a high schooler buzzing to jump in bed and just write down the whole conversation – dotting your ‘i’s with hearts and stars – to read back in a couple of years and remember the affection bestowed on you.

Waking up to the motion of his phone buzzing violently beside his head, Yunho groaned and pressed the off button without checking the caller ID. He mentally cursed Mingi for being an early bird and not knowing how to respect others' boundaries. The sun creeped through the blinds in his room, reflecting in the body length mirror and hitting him right in the eyes. Yunho covered his head with one of the many pillows surrounding him. A few seconds later his phone went off again and he gave up on catching some extra z’s. Sitting up, hair messy and face puffy, he rubbed the sleep from the corners of his eyes and squinted at the bright screen of his phone. The numbers showed 10:03 AM and below was your name followed by a picture of you staring at a sunflower stopping a few inches above your head. Entranced by the image he took of you a few days ago, when he was free from schedule, he startled as his home screen appeared with a message popping up seconds after.

You [10:06 AM] Does coffee sound like a good excuse to spend time together? :P

If there was one thing Yunho cherished more than his bed then it would be coffee. Black coffee that tasted bitter but warmed him up like a cup of hot chocolate. It dawned on him that he only got around four hours of sleep and he needed at least six to function like a guy who gets the recommended amount, but saying no to you was worse than making a kid cry by simply offering a smile.

Yunho [10:08 AM] Do you even need to ask? I’ll pick you up in ten

Yunho [10:08 AM] Btw you don’t need an excuse to see me ;)

He threw on random clothes scattered around the room, a white shirt and black pants – but not before giving them a few excessively sniffs – and his obligatory leather jacket, the one with fuzz on the inside. Falling asleep with wet hair came to bite him in the rear as the strands wouldn’t cooperate now, refusing to lay down tidely. Lucky for Yunho, nine out of ten times he could just cover it with his helmet. Catching one last look in the mirror he sighed at the dark circles under his eyes. He quickly ventured into his bathroom and dragged the red-ish eyeliner pencil close to his lash line. It looked messy and nowhere near neat as when Seonghwa did it for him but it was alright. If you didn’t sneer at a sweaty Yunho with black liner smeared everywhere then you probably wouldn’t now either.

The sound of his motorcycle echoed through the block and he ignored the dirty looks passed from the elderly women sitting outside. As promised, Yunho was in front of your apartment with a few seconds to spare. He killed the engine and edged the kickstand into position with his left foot. While waiting on you, he unclasped the spare helmet from the chassis of the bike and made sure it was clean. Hongjoong, the leader and bassist of Blue Bird, had yet to get his driver’s license and would catch lift from the other guys which left everyone with a really small helmet in their possession. Yunho just hoped it would fit you.

The sound of someone clearing their voice caught his attention and as Yunho turned the breathe was knocked out of his lungs. He liked to think he was getting immune to the effect your skirts had on him, but no one warned him for the white lacy tank tops especially not when the material was hidden beneath your blue cardigan. Trying to play it off, he thrusted the helmet in your hands.

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle,” you started and checked it out.

Whatever brand it was, it looked cool. You especially liked how it played into Yunho’s rock star style and matched his hair; entirely black with red design stripes going from front to back.

“Are you okay with riding?”

The dirty thoughts were pushed to the far back of his mind as he reminded himself of who he was talking to. You weren’t just a random chick he picked up after one of his shows; figuratively.

You hummed and stepped closer, your hand hovering over the seat. “I think so. As long as I don’t fall off.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen. Here, lemme help you with the helmet.”

“It’s fine, Yuyu, you’ve proven yourself a gentleman multiple times and I think I can do this.”

Hearing nothing beyond the unexpected nickname, his brain crashed like a hard disk from overheating. Thoughts a jumbled mess where the only thing making sense was the new abbreviation of his name. Yunho gripped the helmet as if it were a lifeline keeping him from straying away with the tidal wave. The gentle touch of your palm against his brought him back to reality.

“Are you okay?”

Chuckling like he always did when you caught him being weird, he shook his head and gently pushed the helmet over your own.

“Just a bit tired–” the worried scrunch of your brows stopped him mid sentence “–it’s nothing to worry about I promise. I’ll be back to normal after we get some caffeine pumping in my veins.”

“Were you sleeping? Oh, no, I woke you up, didn’t I? Yunho, I told you to tell me off when practices were running late!”

“And you know I’d never bring myself to do that, I like spending time with you.”

“And I’d rather not have you running on coffee and zero sleep! I could’ve just made myself a cup at home.”

“But then we wouldn’t be here enjoying each other’s company. Now, is this alright? Try shaking your head a bit and see if it's not too tight or too loose.”

You did as told and the headgear barely budged which earned you a thumbs up from Yunho. He then flicked the visor down and you let out a ‘hey’ in protest. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, you gingerly studied him. While he looked sleep deprived he didn’t act the part, and you didn’t know if he did it to keep you from worrying or if he was genuinely alright.

“It’s alright. Not too tight or loose, but listen! The coffee’s on me,” you declared and before he could protest you quickly filled the short silence, “or I’m never going with you anywhere again. I’m serious, Yunho.”

“...Only if you call me that again.”

“Call you what? Yunho?”

“No. The other thing, y’know…”

A smile broke out on your face when you realized what he was implying.

“Yuyu?”

The rockstar whipped his head so fast you thought he’d snap it off his neck.

“Oh, you are mean.”

“No, I just did what you asked me to!”

The inbuilt bluetooth did a great job transmitting your sugary laughter and God was he proud of himself for thinking ahead. He could never get enough of it and it was like music to his ears and it warmed him better than the sun of a summer’s day.

“Put this on.” He handed you his leather jacket.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m a big boy.”

Yunho helped you mount the motorcycle, giving you tips on how to swing your feet and where to hold so the whole thing wouldn’t fall over. Not that it was possible as his legs were glued to the pavement.

“And your hands go here.” He grabbed your wrists and placed them around his stomach so your front was flushed to his back. “Don’t be afraid to hold on.”

The contact had your face burning and you wondered if he was anywhere near as flustered. You wondered if he was always this touchy or was it some exclusive treatment.

The local coffee shop you frequently visited or stopped by before your shift at the preschool wasn’t packed, which came as a surprise considering it was almost lunch hour but nothing you complained about.

“Okay, what are you getting?” You asked and gazed up at the oversized menu on the wall behind the workers.

Maybe you’d get a strawberry macchiato or a caramel one, you couldn’t decide– oh, the matcha tea didn’t sound too bad either. Yunho hummed in fake wonder with his eyes trained on an oblivious you. He didn’t need to read the menu to know what he was getting.

“I think I’ll take a caramel macchiato, I mean I had the strawberry one last time so it’s only fair I try something else now,” you argued mostly to yourself and like your coffee choice, Yunho found the rambling to be cute.

“That makes sense but I don’t think there are rules for what you can drink and when you can drink it, sweetpea.”

Toes touching the wall and hands holding the counter for support, you tilted your head backwards and looked Yunho right in the eyes. The top of your head barely grazed his chest and he restrained himself from gently grabbing your hips. You were slightly taken back at the pet name that rolled off his tongue. You expected a lot but not that.

“Sweetpea? That’s a new one.”

“I figured you’ve heard most of them so I wanted to try something new.”

Trying to keep your eagerness on the low you stifled a giggle.

“Ahhhh, you wanted to stand out, is that it?”

“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak my truth, I guess I’ll just have to call you something cheesy like petal or sweet cheeks.”

“If it makes you feel better, no one's called me either of those things, Yuyu. So you’re doing a good job at both standing out and being cheesy.”

The tips of his ears burned and Yunho internally groaned as all his thousand good comebacks flew out the window, and right when he thought he was going to embarrass himself the barista – unintentionally – swooped in and saved the day.

“Welcome to Star’s Coffee, are you ready to place your order?”

Jumping abruptly from Yunho, you politely smiled and nodded.

“Yu–yes. I’ll take a caramel macchiato”

“Will that be hot or iced?”

“Iced please, and then we’ll take a…”

“An iced americano,” Yunho quickly filled in, “Black with no milk, thank you.”

As agreed you swiped your card and paid for the drinks even if it hurt Yunho’s pride. Deciding to sit at a table by the window, he quickly ran ahead of you and pulled out a chair and beamed brightly. It fit right in with the other chivalrous gestures Yunho spoiled you with and while you weren’t used to being pampered, you could totally get behind it. Before he could occupy the seat across from you, the barista’s voice stole the spotlight as she called out your orders and he was already walking in her direction.

“A caramel macchiato for m’lady and an iced americano for the fine gentleman keeping her company.”

You looked up at Yunho and thanked him through a giggle as he handed you the beverage. An identical paper cup was cradled in his hand, fingers wrapping all the way around and nearly making it as if he was holding air. He occupied the seat across from you and as he got comfortable, you jokingly raised the drink and smiled as the cups bumped against each other. Taking your first sips together, you waited for the sweetness to hit your tongue and cringed at the strong metallic taste that followed instead.

“Oh, God that’s sweet,” Yunho exclaimed as the heavily sugared coffee exploded in his mouth.

“And this is horrible! How can you, ugh– How can you even drink this? It’s strong and bitter and give me back my coffee!”

“Coffee?! That’s like unicorn piss mixed with water and sugar, how can you drink that is my question.”

“At least it doesn’t taste like something straight out of my grandma’s garden,” you bit back and tried washing out the dirt-ish flavor with extra big sips of your so-called unicorn piss coffee.

Spoiler: it didn’t help.

“I don’t get it,” Mingi voiced from beside Yunho, fingers quickly fiddling with the joysticks on his Xbox controller.

The drummer looked nothing like on their nights out. Face bare from makeup and his usually gelled hair was combed and took on the resemblance of a cloud. Instead of skin tight clothes he had a worn out Fall Out Boy shirt he bought a few years back and paired it off with some loose fitted pajama bottoms. His neck and fingers were bare from kilos of jewelry, it was just his colored nails and chest tattoo that were still there. Yunho took ‘bare’ to another level as he walked around in his underwear and just a pair of Spiderman socks.

The boys sat on the sofa which was barely big enough to fit both of them, knees touching and eyes glued to the TV-screen. The gaming session had been running for at least an hour or two and the street outside Yunho’s apartment was slowly being emptied of cars and people. Yunho would soon have to start getting ready for the dinner he invited you out to. Reservations were made at a little pricier restaurant for people with enough money to be deemed important or idols and celebrities who wanted some privacy from the prying eyes of locals and camera lenses. Yunho obviously didn’t have the money for it but with a few pulled strings and a call to his friend in the fashion industry, he made it work.

“What don’t you get?”

The question came a few seconds later and it wasn’t anything Mingi paid attention to as they were both occupied with protecting their base from demons and gargoyles.

“Why you don’t just ask her out. You’ve been hounding her for like, what? Four months now?”

“I haven’t been hounding after her,” Yunho argued, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a sneer.

“Dude.”

Pausing the game Mingi turned to his childhood best friend and the guy had the audacity to stare back at him with an equally deadpanned look.

“What? I haven’t.”

“Don’t what me, Yunho. Is this thing serious or are you just having fun because from what I understand she’s not a one and done type of girl, is she?”

Almost as if defeated, the lead guitarist slumped back against the couch and sighed. Mingi was right, you weren’t just a girl he picked up from a nightclub hoping for a quickie that would leave him waking up to an absent space the morning after. You were a girl who liked to take things slow. Three dates and maybe on the fourth one you’d reward him with a peck on the cheek. If he was lucky you’d hold his hand as you walk side by side, slowly unraveling each other’s preferences. Early bird or night owl, cats or dogs, sunrise or sunset, the list was endless and he’d know more about you than his own best friend by the end of the day.

Gigs, parties and one night stands were fun. It was a fast life that made him feel alive, like he had a purpose being on stage besides signing autographs for random people or finding a minimum wage job. Then he met you, the girl with the pretty bows in her hair and an unhealthy addiction to strawberry flavored pocky rather than his cancer sticks, and realized you brought him that joy too. Through the jokes you could barely get out between your giggles or your affectionate yet worrisome words reminding him to drink two glasses of water for every cup of coffee he poured. And it was always a pleasant surprise waking up with you knocking on his door, a freshly baked batch of brownies in hand as you bid him a good morning despite it being three in the afternoon. It was the small things Yunho liked, but also despised, because if you were everything good – the white marble in his sack of charcoal – what was he?

“I don’t know,” Yunho finally answered.

“Don’t know if it’s serious or…?”

“I don’t know what I want. If I want a serious relationship or just someone to pass time with, and I know how that sounds; it’s fucking awful, and she doesn’t deserve that nor would she be up for it either. She dates to marry, and well, let’s be honest here I’m not the guy she wants to spend the rest of her life with anyway.”

Yunho pressed ‘resume’, seemingly putting a stop to the conversation he wasn’t currently in the mood for. A conversation he purposely avoided every single time Mingi questioned his lack of action with the exact words of ‘put a ring on her finger, man'. And it was funny the first three times then it just became a walking reminder of why Yunho precisely didn’t do it. Having had enough of his friend's stupid antics, Mingi stood up and parked himself in front of the TV. Hands on his hips and bottom lip jutted out.

“That’s bullshit, Yun. I get being indecisive. Your last serious relationship was ages ago and it’s weird going from being single to taken in one night, but the thing about not being the one for her? Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Growing agitated himself, Yunho paused the game again and tossed the controller onto the sofa as he looked up at Mingi with tired eyes.

“Yeah, what good can I bring her? Tell me, Mingi. I’m nothing. My sleeping schedule is fucked and I work more than twelve hours a day for a minimum pay. If it weren’t for Yeosang’s parents I’d practically be living on the street. I eat take out for breakfast, lunch and dinner and have no college degree and probably won’t be getting one anytime soon. She’s educated, has a respectable job and lives a healthy life that won’t coax her into bad habits. She shouldn’t be associated with someone like me. It isn’t ideal for her to be with me, it’s not safe.”

“Oh my God, would you shut the fuck up?”

Yunho startled at the sudden raise in tone, not expecting Mingi to get so worked up over nothing.

“What does that even mean; too good for you? Yunho, dude, you’re the most selfless guy I know. You’re a kind, funny and quick witted gentleman who cares about those around you and always tries to make everyone smile, even if you’re going through shit yourself. So if you aren’t worthy of her then I should just stop looking for a partner all together! We are going to be rock stars, yeah, people look at us like we’re out of our mind or worship Satan, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of living like a human. And don’t even start with the homeless shit. I’d never let that happen…”

The little speech slapped Yunho across the face and only Mingi’s heaves of air resonated through the apartment. The two rarely got into arguments and while this conversation wouldn’t be jutted down as one, it still left Yunho at unease. Usually being the one to reprimand his friends, he didn’t know how to act while on the receiving end. Especially not when it was Mingi – the softie who took hours to eat a slice of bread and liked being called a princess – beating sense into him.

“It’s true she’s good for you, Yunho, and I doubt she’d stay around if you weren’t good for her either. She’s kind, not gullible.”

On the other side of town you sat before your vanity mirror and carefully applied make up. Yuqi sat on your bed, fingers hastily scrolling through social media apps and updating you about the recent gossip at her workplace.

“I can’t believe you’re not telling me anything about this mysterious man!” Yuqi exclaimed from your bed, legs in a pretzel position and fingers frozen mid air as she stared at the picture you airdropped her. “And the fact that I only now find out you’ve been seeing someone, that hurts you know!”

It wasn’t intentional. You knew if you told them a super cute and handsome man asked for your number, they’d rush right up to the counter and harass any guy who fit your description which, admittedly, only a few did. After the long night out you were all tipsy and too focused on getting everyone safely home that the handsome stranger was pushed to the back of your mind and forgotten until the next day when you woke up to a message from an unknown number.

Everyone was so caught up in their lives that you hadn’t thought of telling them about Yunho, then the whole rock star-identity was revealed and you certainly couldn’t tell them about him after that – already knowing what they thought about guys like that – not even your best friend who with just one glance knew something was different. Not necessarily bad, but just different. The outline of two massive hearts reflected in your eyes and you wore a smile so wide she thought you won the lottery, she didn’t stop to think the reason behind your gleeful expression could be because of a man. Not that you were an untouched woman, you had done a few things here and there, but because you were selective with your partners. So to hear you gave away your number and meet up with Yunho on multiple occasions piqued her interest.

“I told you it wasn’t on purpose! We were just both busy with work,” you pouted and applied mascara to your eyes.

“I know babes I’m just messing with you.”

Yuqi slumped back on your bed and tapped open your Instagram following list, quickly trying to find the guy you had been ‘unintentionally hiding’ from her.

“Are you like a thing now?”

“No or at least I don’t think so.”

Abandoning her search at your words, Yuqi put her phone down and stared at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean? Either you’re or you aren’t.”

“Well we haven’t really talked about that sort of stuff. When we go out we just let the conversation flow and I mean, it’s not like he’s explicitly asked me out on a date-date. And neither have I, for the record. We just go out for lunch or dinner, sometimes coffee, like we do with the girls.”

There was also the fact that he was going to be a rock-star who didn’t even have time to wipe his ass, let alone be in a relationship.

“Yeah, but I don’t invite you to my house and cook you an expensive dinner with expensive ass wine.”

“No, you’d rather tell me how you’d take me then and there if you weren’t painfully straight.”

She waved her hand in dismissal and pushed up to sit on her knees. “Guys don’t just do all those things if they aren’t interested, babes. You know that, you’ve dated a hundred guys before.”

“Yeah, but this is Yunho and not one of my previous dates. Maybe he just wants to be friends, like permanently.”

“You are insufferable. The guy likes you! I mean, you’ve already gone on a hundred mini-dates so this doesn’t come as that big of a surprise but why the hell would he ask you to dinner – only giving you the instructions to dress accordingly – on a Friday night if he absolutely wasn’t smitten with you?”

You sighed and closed the eyeshadow palette. In the softest voice possible you whispered out, “To get in my pants…”

“Oh, sweetie.”

Yuqi was up in seconds, throwing her arms gently around you and caressing the flesh of your biceps.

“Guys are douchebags and I can’t say for sure but what you’ve told me about Yunho, he doesn’t sound like the type to do that.”

“I know but then I start thinking about the what’s and the if’s and it all leads back to that one thing. It would be easier if he just said what he was thinking and feeling out loud.”

“Considering you guys haven’t talked about more serious things, you don’t know each other on that level. You don’t know what’s going through his head, if he’s been wronged before or is scared of commitment, bubs. Maybe he’s scared you don’t feel the same and is trying to play it safe, waiting for a sign that indicates you want more.”

Or maybe he was scared of what his bandmates would say, what their little group of fans would say. Maybe he wasn’t interested in girls like you at all, mayne he was drawn to the…flashier ones who were there for a good time and not a long one. A small sliver of you hung on the hope that it didn’t have to mean anything. That not all rock stars were up for that dirty and fast life.

“I baked him my specialty,” you pointed out, that alone was enough to tell him how you felt without vocalizing it.

“And I’m sure the brownies were delicious, bubs, but he doesn’t know they are reserved for special people, now does he?”

You shook your head and the frown that followed really didn’t suit your dolled up face. There was no time to sulk as Yunho would be arriving in roughly half an hour, but the thought of your intimate gesture flying over his head as friendliness set a bitter taste on your tongue. The thing you could think of to be more obvious was to decorate the dessert with swirls of chocolate reading out ‘I like you’ and while it would be a cute way to confess, you weren’t that confident.

“Enough sulking,” Yuqi suddenly declared and pulled you up by your wrists. “What are we wearing, huh? Are we going for something bold, something that will give poor Yunho a hard time keeping his thoughts in check or are we leaning for a more cutesy approach?”

By the way your lips curved up in a smirk, Yuqi knew exactly what you were going for.

The nerves danced across Yunho’s skin as he aligned the bike with the curb outside your apartment. He stole a quick glance up at your window and sighed. This would be the closest thing to a date and he wanted to impress you, so in good ol’ Yunho fashion he planned ahead. First he’d treat you to a tasty meal at one of the best restaurants in the city, dessert was a given so that would be the next stop and if the night didn’t turn too cold maybe he’d decide on a quick stroll across the Dongho Bridge, but not until he knew what the weather would be like, it was still late February. Otherwise a quick ride through town wasn’t a bad idea either but it left no space for the little things like hand holding, unless he wanted to jeopardize your safety.

Yunho sent you a short message, notifying his arrival and leaned against his motorcycle. There was a slight breeze in the air and the weather wasn’t too hot indicating the approaching end of winter, and Yunho wondered whether to scratch the promenade from his plans. Too caught up in his own mind he missed the apartment door swinging open as you sashayed out, head held high and purse in hand.

The click-clack of your boots snapped Yunho out of his daze and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at your appearance. The cutesy pastel colored clothes, bows and lace were replaced with something out of your usual wardrobe; a short black dress that clung to your body like a second skin. The hem made it to mid thigh and Yunho just knew it’d ride up even shorter when you’d sit down. The dress was backless and left your shoulders exposed while the front accentuated your chest. You looked hot and you’d be even hotter with his leather jacket on. Your designated heart necklace was still in place and you paired it off with small golden hoops. A pair of leather boots reached up to your knees, revealing a snippet of glowy skin (thanks to your body lotion).

“You look good,” you said and smiled, lips painted a deep red and Yunho imagined the trail of kisses it would leave on his neck.

Clearing his throat, he cast a look at his own attire and chuckled. He too was wearing something out of his usual closet. Instead of ripped jeans and a fishnet shirt, he borrowed one of Mingi’s old high school suits that still miraculously fit. He looked sharp and important, something Yunho wasn’t all that used to, but it balanced it out with his scarlet helmet and motorcycle.

“Well, I couldn’t let you take all of the spotlight, now could I?”

Dressed as a couple even the universe rooted for you to snap the translucents restraints of fear.

“Before I forget.” He snatched the single rose tucked neatly between the windshield and handlebars of the bike. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

Day met night as you reached for the flower, fingers brushing against Yunho’s. You smelled the red petals like the main girls do in movies but with a real smile that their fabricated ones would never reach. When Lord Byron claimed chivalry was dead he didn’t take count for men like Jeong Yunho. Men who bought their dates their favorite flowers after mentioning it one time in passing, men who gave up their jackets when a light breeze swiveled through town or men who never let their eyes wander from one diamond to another. While the acts were nothing of a grand gesture they still sent squeezes of affection straight to your heart. Taking it as a sign of the stars aligning and sending a normal guy your way for the first time in what seemed to be forever, you allowed yourself to relax and follow the stream.

“Right when I thought you slipped up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Like always Yunho helped you with the helmet and to get on the bike, and heat pooled beneath the skin of your cheeks as you huddled closer to him. Your legs were glued together and slung over one side of the motorcycle, and Yunho promised he’d drive slow so you wouldn’t fall off – as if that was ever going to happen – with the order that you hold on tight. The thrownless flower was in your hold as you reached around him. He patted your hand twice, the mute signal that he was starting the engine. Throughout the whole fifteen minute drive, Yunho refused to disclose the name of the restaurant, arguing it would ruin the suspense and feigned hurt when you said he hadn’t even planned anything. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

With your arm looped through Yunho’s, you approached a tall building that reminded you of a hotel and just the exterior had you gasping, fingers pressed to your lips. The outside was sculpted with details from ancient Greek architecture. Marble columns pushed out from the black walls as pediments marked the beginning of the second floor. The rest of the building changed hues from black marble to beautiful cream colored bricks full of golden rimmed windows and black balcony railings with swirls and fleur-de-lis. You walked the little path leading up to the double doors and suddenly the pavement underneath turned soft and drowned out the click-clack of your heels. The carpet underneath was a rich red and you were curious how they kept it nice and clean from rain and other mud. By the entrance stood an elderly man dressed in a neat costume, his white gloved hand already pushing down the golden doorknob at the sight of guests and greeted you with kind eyes.

Your whisper of Yunho’s name tugged at the corners of his lips and he wanted to tell you that there was more, keeping his excitement at bay he reached and patted the hand clutching his elbow. Allowing Yunho to guide you, he stopped at what seemed to be a reception where a young lady with a bright smile and red lips waited.

“Welcome to the Red Ruby.”

Completely lost in the details of the place, you didn’t bother tuning in on the brief exchange. The inside was even prettier, you came to realize. It was a small space not much bigger than your living room but probably held more worth than your whole apartment. A big chandelier hung in the center of the room that reflected against the black and white tiled floor. The left side sported a big entryway that led to a big dining area. Its primary colors ranged from red hues to matte gold. Further inside you made out a few tables draped over with long tablecloths and exquisite centerpieces bigger than your head. The chairs were big and soft to the eyes, made out of the finest velvet material you ever borne witness to.

“Thank you. We have a reservation under the name Jung Wooyoung.”

If you weren’t so mesmerized by the place, you’d give him a weird look and ask about this so-called Jung Wooyoung.

The lady scrolled through her tablet and smiled as she came to a halt. “Of course. The elevator will take you to the upper floor and my colleague will further assist you. Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you,” Yunho replied once again and gave you a soft tug, finally catching your attention.

“Are we not sitting there?” You nodded towards the majority of people who were happily dining and conversing in the red room.

“Not quite. Only specific people are allowed in the Red Ruby, besides those seats don’t require a reservation and it’s a lot more open than where we’re sitting.”

Specific people meaning celebrities, actors, important people. Not locals like yourself. The ding of the elevator cut the conversation short as the doors parted and for the second time in ten minutes, you gasped. Flashing lights of the outside world stared back at you through the windows stretching from the floor to the high ceilings. Blue and purple hues of the night sky blended with the fading orange color. As the sun was slowly setting, the moon made its appearance with smaller stars dashed across the dark blue canvas, shining brighter than any streetlight and airplane. The view resembled a watercolor painting and its beauty couldn’t even be captured with the most developed camera.

As promised, another worker – a man not older than yourself – waited by the doors wearing a maroon red suit that was adjusted to his precise measures, a towel thrown over his forearm and hair slicked back with gel.

“Reservation for Mr. Jung?” He asked and Yunho nodded. “Right this way. My name is Sieun and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

The second floor – what you soon came to realize was actually the twentieth – was a stark contrast from the dining area downstairs. The whole outerwall consisted of just windows with an overview of the heart of South Korea and the interior took on more of a modern design with black and white colored seats, marble tables and crystal chandeliers that did little to lighten the room. The floor was pipsqueak clean and you could even see your own reflection in the black tiles. Instead of flower bushes, literal trees popped out every now and then and you couldn’t figure out if they were real or manufactured. Mouth open and eyes wide you were at a loss for words as the waiter led you to a table further away from the other guests. Two menus bigger than your head laid neatly on the surface and the waiter left with a promise of someone coming back to take your orders.

“This is beautiful,” you exhaled, eyes glued to the lively city below.

“Right?” Yunho smiled, chest exploding with warmth and pride.

While you were occupied with watching the ant-like people and shimmering stars, Yunho stared at you as if the view outside wasn’t anything special. And it wasn’t, not with you sitting there looking breathtakingly beautiful.

“Personally, I prefer their food over any other restaurant. Their yakisoba is the closest thing I’ve tasted to what they have in Japan.”

“I have no doubt, their water probably tastes like heaven, too. I mean did you see that crystal fountain, in the middle of the room?”

Yunho chuckled at your words and it tore your eyes from the windows. “I can assure you their water is just normal tap water.”

As you opened your mouth, Sieun came back and the ten minutes of thinking were up.

“Are you ready to place your orders?”

“Yes, please.” Yunho closed his menu despite not taking a look inside. “We’ll take a full course dinner with your evening's specials, that way we can try a little bit of everything.”

“Of course, sir and in the meantime would you like anything to drink? If I may propose one of our finest wines, perhaps?”

Eyes on you, Yunho quirked a brow letting you decide. Picking up on the memo, you cleared your throat and agreed to the proposition. Sieun nodded and bowed politely before venturing back to the culinary side of the restaurant.

“This will cost you a fortune,” you sighed and fiddled with your fingers. “And I don’t know what you thought but by the looks of the interior, the food’s probably a month’s worth of salary, my salary.”

Yunho laughed at that. As if he’d ever let you near the bill, let alone split it.

“Don’t think about that, let's just enjoy it and I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Yunho,” you began, leaning forward and mustering up your biggest puppy eyes that he was quick to shut down.

“I know you’re worrying, but seriously don’t. It’s a favor I’ve asked of my friend so it won’t make a dent in my wallet. Besides I wanted to do this for you, okay. Something nice.”

“But why?”

The overwhelming feeling to reach over the table and place his palm over yours was stronger than anything pull he felt before, but he kept it glued to its current position and flashed a smile that made his cheeks pop and eyes crinkle.

“Because it’s what you deserve.”

Preparations for upcoming gigs and events were truly draining him. Practices started early in the morning, hours before the sun peeked over the horizon, and ended after the moon was high up in the sky. It left barely any time for the Blue Bird members to indulge in their own interests. Yunho wanted to spend as much time with you as but it was quite difficult as your schedules didn’t align, mainly because of his impractical working hours. Instead of going out for lunch or dining in grandiose places you couldn’t afford without giving up a kidney on the blackmarket, you opted for quick coffee breaks and late night drives to vacant places; the beach, some random hill with a great view of the city, a kids’ playground.

The clock was well past midnight and your eyes were surprisingly wide open, brain awake and ready to run laps around your apartment. How you’d survive the morning shift was beyond you, but with the faith that it wasn’t anything an extra spoon of sugar couldn’t fix, aimlessly continued counting each bump on your popcorn ceiling, willing the time to move faster for something – someone – to happen. Days off were spent alone in your apartment reading books to rid of your boredom but every once in a while you found yourself yearning for even the tiniest interactions with a certain puppy eyed man who also happened to be a future rock-star carrying a calendar with all three-hundred and sixty-five boxes marked. Maybe that’s why you didn’t hesitate at his sudden offer of going for a late night walk to buy slushies; his treat as the message read.

“I’m surprised you were still awake.” Was the first thing Yunho said as you ventured out of the apartment complex.

You pushed the black beanie further down on your head and by the creases around your eyes Yunho knew you were smiling hard beneath your white scarf. A breeze blew through the neighborhood and that white hoodie of yours looked to do little against the chilly night. Yunho pondered if he should wrap you up in his leather jacket or clasp your hand in his – if daring enough, maybe even braid your fingers together – and hide them in the pocket of the black material.

“What? I don’t always sleep early…”

The sprinkle of sulk to your words squeezed his heart affectionately and he imagined a little pout to your look, head free from his previously temping thoughts.

“No, but you never stay awake to see the clock change from PM to AM.”

“Hey!”

Yunho moved away as your arm swung in his direction. Chuckles bubbling out of him as he jogged ahead of your punches, they barely did any damage anyway but it was endearing to see you run after him.

“I’m kidding, kinda.”

“Where are we going anyway…Won’t your friends worry?”

“Not really, I mean even if they did it’s not like we’re doing anything illegal. We’re just getting some slushies.”

Your face scrunched together like you bit into something sour and lips set in a thin line. While you enjoyed Yunho’s company more than you wanted to admit for your own mental health, you also despised it. There was something so gut wrenching about not being able to hold his hand as you walked down the streets of Seoul or adjust his unruly strands of hair after a stronger gust of air messed it up. The worst thing about it all was that his future image was the last thing holding you back, it was the fact you weren’t anything but friends.

“So, what have you been up to today? How was work?”

“It was alright, a bit annoying with the pollen season having everyone act up and sneeze every five minutes but it’s nothing I’m not used to and the kids are cute so it evens it out. What about you, I thought practice wouldn’t be running later than eight?”

It wasn’t supposed to but in the last quarter someone suggested a change in the performance with an added solo, and the three hours of practice were done in vain as they had to re-learn the most important part. Yunho loved his members, his brothers, but they sure could get on his nerves at the most unexpected time. Safe to say the sudden change in Yunho’s demeanor had everyone on edge – despite him not trying to show it – and they were diligent in their learning. It still didn’t stop Hongjoong from having a talk, or a check-in as the leader liked to call it, with Yunho. After some brief but believable words of assurement he was off the hook like nothing. Yunho was lucky he roomed with Yeosang, their manager, and not with Hongjoong. The lead guitarist would never leave the apartment without the elder breathing down his neck. Yeosang was more laid back like that, keeping to himself but still indulging in Yunho’s interests every once in a while and simultaneously taking care of him in his manager role.

“Yeah, no, we had to change up the performance so we were running later than expected…It’s crazy that after all these years it still surprises me that practice doesn’t end on time.”

“I think that’s just wishful thinking, everyone has it Yuyu.”

“What’s your wishful thinking then, sunshine?”

“Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

A laugh skipped through the chilly march night. The smug words he once threw at you long before you knew who he was coming to bite him in the rear; cutie-pie style. Eventually the all too familiar corner store – in which you spent way too many mornings contemplating between choco-chips and strawberry pocky – came to view and the conversation dissolved. The young boy behind the counter paid you no mind, sleep evidently tugging at his eyelids as he barely kept upright in his chair. Working in tandem you separated like the branches of a tree, one pouring up the slushies and the other filling a basket with snacks.

Despite how much Yunho disliked seeing you reach for your wallet, he couldn’t do anything about it – as you argued it to be unfair if he paid for it all – and settled with a mental note lingering in the back of his mind to pay you back. Plastic bag in hand and card tucked back in your wallet, you slowly walked towards the exit.

“I’ll take a pack of red Marlboros, too.”

Out of all the facts about Yunho this was the most surprising one, followed right by him being in a rockband and never having watched Twilight. You stepped out in the open with Yunho close behind, the outline of the pack in his pocket and a slushie in each hand, one brown – seemingly coca cola flavored – and the other a pretty mix of blue and red.

“Thank you,” you murmured as he took the bag from you in exchange for the drink.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere away from the street.”

Yunho’s hand hovered over your lower back as you turned into a random street with different local restaurants and stores, all closed at this late hour much to your pleasure. The further you went, the fewer shops there were and more houses instead. The neighborhood was on an uphill path leading to the top of the mountain and soon a set of stairs popped out of the sleek pavement making it easier to venture by foot. To break the silence settled over you, Yunho first slurped on his slushie.

“Everything alright?”

The question worked as a needle breaking the layer of a balloon, bringing you out of the bubble you were stuck in.

“Hmmm, yeah I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“Are you tired? We can walk back home if you want.”

“No, no! I’m good, I promise.”

Yunho bobbed his head up and down, bag gently swinging from between his fingers and then put down on the ground beside his plastic cup.

“Okay, then at least take this.” Immediately you opened your mouth to say no, but Yunho wasn’t finished. “And I’m not taking a no for an answer.”

Your body was covered in a layer of warmth – the warmth of his jacket – and you gave him a small smile, a thank you for not letting you freeze to death even though that was impossible.

“Don’t get sick on me now, Yuyu. If you feel just the smallest tingle of a cold you tell me right away, okay.”

He pouted, “Why not? Won’t you come and take care of me then, hmmm? Some chicken soup to heal my tummy.”

The motion of his hand rubbing against his stomach had you giggling. The cheerful expression that made him fall pathetically in love with you was back and that was better than any jacket or hotpacket to keep him warm.

You trudged up the last flight of stairs and in front was a bus stop big enough for two, maybe three people if you could squeeze in on the tiny bench. The road wasn’t connected to the path and continued in two directions, one going further up the hill and the other leading down and around the neighborhood to what you assumed was the city. The bus stop was placed right on the curve of the road with a great view of Seoul. It wasn’t anything like looking out the windows of the Red Ruby, this was less hectic. Mountains nearly blended with the dark sky and the distant lights of cars and billboards twinkled light stars, you were sure if you walked a little bit more out of the city the real stars would prevail. It was much quieter here too, no chatter of people or overproduced vehicles making whirring noises.

You leaned your hand against the road barrier and smiled as the wind kissed your cheeks. Following your lead, Yunho did the same but with both hands and knees slightly bent as he put his whole weight against the metal fence. Turning your head to the left, you were once again taken back by his beauty. Features perfectly illuminated by the moonlight and jaw sharp as ever you couldn’t help but step back, snatch your phone up and tap open the camera icon.

“What are you doing?” Yunho asked, amused as he caught sight of your abrupt movements.

“Don’t move! Look out again, it’s great Instagram material and although I’m no professional photographer I think they’ll still turn out amazing. Just fix your hair a bit.”

Heat spreading to his cheeks, Yunho bashfully smiled and did as told. Looking through the rectangular phone screen you moved around a little, stepping closer and inching a bit to the left before completely freezing up in place. The perfect shot was in view and with a few instructions aimed at the unofficial model, you snapped a handful of photos. In some where Yunho looked mysteriously out, others where his gaze was locked in on the circular camera alternating between a relaxed expression and cheek-popping smiles.

“Look.”

You pushed the device in his hands and waited patiently for his reaction.

“Maybe I should buy you a camera,” he said more so to himself but it still drew a sharp gasp out of you.

“Don’t you dare!”

And all you got back was a teasing wink, telling you your words entered in one ear and out the other.

“Send these to me, would ya? It’s been a while since I posted something on Instagram.”

While you got busy airdropping him the pictures, Yunho frantically patted the front and back of his jeans, searching for something that was in the pocket of his coat.

Clearing his throat and gauging your reaction, he said, “Can you pass me the cigarettes?”

In all honesty, you forgot the packet was even in your possession. Digging around in the pockets – first the left and then the right – you passed him the packet along with a red lighter in silence mainly because there was nothing to be said.

“Does it…Will it– I mean…Ah.”

“You can go ahead and light one, it doesn’t disturb me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh-okay. Wait, let me just.” In three quick strides he stepped around you. “Now the smoke won’t get in your face and clothes.”

You weren’t new to the smell or taste of tobacco. Having friends who smoked and even took a few puffs when offered, you quickly realized it wasn’t something to your liking. The taste was worse than any cup of black coffee and you’d opt for the caffeine filled drinks rather than those sticks. Despite that you couldn’t stop staring, almost as if mesmerized, as Yunho opened the sealed packet, tore out a cigarette with his teeth and lit it with a flick of the lighter. You definitely couldn’t stop staring when a whistle of smoke blew out from between his lips making him somehow more attractive than he already was.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t do it often, just when I’m stressed.”

He tapped the cigarette ash into his empty slushie cup and took another drag of the intoxicating stick. You watched it mix with the few droplets of blue water and replayed his answer.

“Are you stressed right now?”

Always the gentleman, Yunho blew out a cloudy stream of smoke in the opposite direction before looking at you.

“With you here? Not a chance.”

You could never find anything to hate about Yunho. He was funny, kind hearted, thoughtful, smart, handsome, everything, and yet you really disliked the way your heart fluttered at his cheesy lines that would fit right in a K-drama. Your face burned like the end of his cigarette and you forced yourself not to look away, cheeks hurting from your wide smile. With one last drag of his cigarette he extinguished it and let it fall in his cup. Eyes finding yours again he smiled goofily, tracing all crevices of your face, finding you as beautiful as the first time he saw you.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the blood practically boiling beneath your skin and fingers tightly clutching the long sleeves of his coat. Of all the days you spent with him, from the extravagant dates to domestic hangouts at your place, not once did you think your first shared kiss would be under the stars while dressed with minimum effort. Nonetheless you really wanted to kiss him too.

“What’s stopping you?”

The last string keeping Yunho from doing what he’s been dreaming of snapped and he quickly dropped everything in his hands to cup your face. Thumb gently caressed your cheek like he was molding clay into a beautiful piece of art, his palm rested against your jaw, fingers long enough to graze the back of your neck as the other hand fell to your waist, the touch burning through the thick layer of his coat. High on his touch, your own hands clasped around his wrist and neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. The faint stench of tobacco reached your nose but it was quickly drowned out by his pleasant scent of rain-soaked earth and camp fire.

Gaze flickering between your eyes and lips, Yunho slowly inched closer, noses millimeters away from brushing. A light smirk crossed his features as you rose impatiently on your toes, quietly yet so loudly telling him to do it already. Right before you took matters into your own hands and nearly yanked him by the collar of his shirt, Yunho tilted his head and brushed his lips softly against yours, and they fit perfectly. The little squeeze he gave your waist sent shivers down your spine and cliche as it sounded, fireworks and confetti poppers exploded in your stomach. Eventually relaxing in each other’s embrace you worked your lips against his, parting them and allowing his tongue entry as you simultaneously stroked his wrist in a slow motion. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. The kiss was great with no tongue being shoved down the back of your throat or mouth vacuuming your whole face. All your senses were overtaken with Yunho, Yunho and Yunho.

It was sweet, gentle and soft – everything you hoped for – and then it was not. The aftertaste of his cigarette and coca cola slush rolled off his tongue and left quite a bitter tang on yours. It wasn’t strong, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you willed yourself not to pull away too soon yet that’s exactly what you did. Yunho, still lost in the daze of the kiss, chased after your mouth wanting to claim your lips again. Panicking, because on one hand you wanted to feel him on you again – the perfect curve of his lips massaging yours and noses brushing against each other – but on the other hand you also didn’t want to taste ash and smoke, and would rather kiss Yunho and not the remainder of his cigarette.

The soft call of his name brought him back to earth, ears painted that perfect shade of crimson clover and you probably weren’t looking any less flustered. Going from this confident guitarist with the world beneath his feet to an awkward man who still hugged his pillows to sleep, Yunho visibly deflated like a balloon.

“Did I do something wrong? Did–uh, did I make you uncomfortable?”

The whisper hit you square in the heart and you shook your head. There was no bone in your body that didn’t think kissing Yunho was perfect, in fact it was everything and more and you’d want to do it again but maybe with the taste of something sweeter like chocolate covered strawberries.

“No. Yunho, no, I promise. It was great, I liked it a lot actually–”

“But…? I’m sensing there’s a but coming.”

“But the taste– the cigarette taste isn’t that nice.”

Yunho licked his lips and surely there was an ashy sprinkle besides the faint flavor of strawberry that was you. He had never wanted to smash his head against concrete as much as then or go cliff diving without a parachute.

Winter surrendered to spring and days turned longer, and so did the time you spent with Yunho. The kiss you shared with the moon as your only witness was one of many, much to your delight, and ever since then it was as if you became inseparable. Late night drives turned into weekly hangouts at each other’s places (mostly at yours), hand holding was exchanged for cuddles on the couch – bodies pressed together and legs intertwined – the empty side of your wardrobe was suddenly full of large hoodies with prints of different bands and sweatpants, and your digital phonebook showed hundreds of calls to a ‘yuyu 🐶💘’ lasting up to hours. Nights together were always an adventure as Yunho watched you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, and then put you back together with those same limbs.

“Have you ever considered getting a tattoo or more piercings?” You asked one night as you laid bare in his bed, skin against skin and his blue blanket the only thing shielding you from the outside world.

It wasn’t the first time you imagined his body covered in ink or new shiny rings glistening in the moonlight and from his sole lip piercing, you knew you’d need a few days off work to recover if he were to get some more. Heat flooded your cheeks at the idea of Yunho sporting a full sleeve and the previously subdued ache between your legs slowly grew again. Most of Blue Bird had done some body art and were eager to do more. You knew Mingi’s body was prickled all over, from his face down to the tips of his fingers, and the man was always eager to do something more. Hongjoong and Seonghwa had a few tattoos here and there although Hongjoong’s was the crown holder of having the most piercings. Yunho was the one with least the altercations and if it weren’t for a dare back in his last year of high school, he probably wouldn’t have added anything.

“Yeah, whenever I accompany Mingi to a tattoo parlor and lemme tell you, that bastard really does a good job at persuading people.”

“But?”

“But I know I’ll change my mind in the future or probably regret getting it done and then I think of how it will look when I’m eighty and all wrinkly. Like imagine an eighty year old Mingi with a face tattoo…and I get that not everyone thinks that far or simply doesn’t care but I don’t know…It’s just weird to me. I like my skin bare.”

“I like your skin like this too,” you replied and kissed the spot beneath his collarbone. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo since I can remember.”

Not in a million years did Yunho expect to hear that. Caught so off guard, he leaned back on his forearms to get a better view of you.

“Really?”

“Yep. My parents blame it on my uncle. He was like eighteen, I think, when he got his first tattoo – without grandma’s approval of course – and I was the only one who knew. I could barely speak back then so I guess he didn’t think it would matter if I saw it or not. Well, no one could explain the sharpie-drawn cat on my forearms that they definitely weren’t allowed to wash away or I’d throw a tantrum. Long story short, I accidentally rated him out to my grandma when he was sleeping, pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and everything so yeah.”

You chuckled at the fond memory and Yunho fought the urge to kiss you until he was on the brink of passing out.

“What would you get done then?”

“I don’t know, I’m really indecisive but I’m thinking of a back tattoo, you know those that go along your spine?”

For being someone opposed to getting tattoos, Yunho nearly took note from Mingi’s 101 guide of persuasion and got down on his knees. A back tattoo – any tattoo really – on you would have him barking like a dog and living up to the name of being a golden retriever and he felt no shame about it.

“Th–at would look good on you,” he coughed.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that perv.”

Yunho poked you in the side and you immediately curled up on yourself which only made matters worse as you moved closer to him.

“Stop! I’m sorry,” you said between giggles and he immediately ceased his advances.

“That’s what I thought, now up. Gotta give you a bath.”

The gentleman he was, took care of you in many ways besides worshiping between your legs. Always attentive and vocal about your needs, he made sure you were comfortable even while you floated between consciousness and dreamland.

“Nooo! I’m tired.”

The grip around him tightened but with legs like jello and your brain only recently coming back from the post orgasm haze, Yunho could have you in the bathtub in seconds. You nuzzled against his chest and blinked slowly while asserting your thoughts. As dizzying as your vanilla perfume was to him, Yunho’s scent of burning wood was completely intoxicating and it nearly lulled you to sleep if it weren’t for his fingers caressing the back of your neck. How he got you to pee was a mystery of its own.

“Okay, a few more minutes but I’m getting you in that shower either way.”

“Thank you, Yuyu!”

He earned a kiss to the apple of his cheek and triumph fluttered through your veins at his red tinted ears. It was funny how he was more flustered over an innocent peck than staring straight at your wet core. Yunho felt the smugness radiate off you in waves and quickly redirected the attention elsewhere.

“Have you always wanted to be a preschool teacher?”

“No,” you started and softly ghosted your fingers on the spot beneath his peck, a trail of goosebumps trailed after your touch. “It’s silly, but I wanted to be a cat shop cashier.”

“A cat shop cashier?”

Yunho craned his neck and if you weren’t so tired you’d laugh at his frozen expression. Instead you mustered up a hum and drew an invisible cat on his body, much like the one from your childhood days.

“I warned you it sounded silly.”

“I’m not judging you, I’m just…what is that?”

“A girl who sells things with cats on them,” you said like it was as clear as the sky being blue and the grass green.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t have the money for it. A shop doesn’t just fall from the sky, you know? Plus my parents weren’t, I wouldn't say they were against it but they were worried I’d end up on the streets or something so I did the next best thing and studied hard, enrolled in college and now I’m waving bye to kids wearing backpacks with dogs on them.”

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around you and squished you closer against him, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. Hearing about your cat-shop-dream not even having the chance of leaving the four walls of your childhood bedroom really struck a chord in him. If it was someone who understood how it felt to not have anyone in their corner, it would be Yunho. With a five dollar bill, a guitar case and a poor impression of Spongebob he took the first train to Seoul to pursue his dreams and while he wasn’t exactly famous, he wasn’t whatever his parents thought he’d be.

“But it all played out in the end,” you finally said and closed your eyes.

“How come?”

“Because I found something better.”

One of the many Spiderman movies played on the TV in your living room. It was Yunho’s idea to have a movie marathon over the weekend and you were currently watching the second movie starring Tobey Magiure. Snacks and soft drinks littered the table, but you weren’t craving them as much as Yunho’s touch. Laying in his embrace, back against his clothed chest and one arm thrown over your waist, you wondered if the movies were an excuse to get cozy with you.

Throwing a quick glance at the digital clock in the corner of the tv screen you realized it was nearing midnight and you could feel the sleep sneaking up on you. It was gradually becoming harder to keep your eyes open and just when you were about to succumb to dreamland an electric like jolt shocked you awake. The hem of your shirt had risen through the night and Yunho’s fingers found comfort on the exposed skin of your tummy. His hand flew from you as if being burned by a hot stove.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?”

You shook your head and smiled at the instinctual worry. There was something so attractive about his attentive side. You were one month into…whatever this labeless thing you were having and not once did he make you feel uncomfortable. He always checked in on you, made sure you were on the same level and asked for permission about the smallest of things but it was appreciated, nonetheless.

“No, it was just unexpected…but not unwanted.”

You steered his hand back over your stomach and fought the shiver wanting to glide down your back. Despite their humongous size, his fingertips were soft and gentle, and the warmth of his touch sent goosebumps trailing along your skin. Face burning and heart doing somersaults, you nuzzled against his bicep taking on the task of a pillow under your head. Pushing yourself, you pressed a chaste kiss to the muscle and glued your attention back to the movie, refusing to meet his eyes. In that moment Yunho swore he could feel his heart jump in his throat and he didn’t even need to touch his ears to know they were burning red.

You had gotten quite intimate with each other. Never being able to finish a movie without locking lips or being in the same room for more than five minutes without one hand straying to the other. Not to say Yunho wasn’t affected by your sudden displays of affection – because he was – yet those small innocent acts did far worse things to Yunho’s well being than anything else.

“Who’s your favorite Spiderman?” You asked to distract him from what the hell you just did.

The lack of answer didn’t go unnoticed and as you turned your head sideways, lips parted and ready to ask again, your breath hitched in your throat at his half lidded eyes drinking you up. They were blown out with lust and desire, a look you’d gotten familiar with.

“Yuyu–”

“I want you so badly,” he said, voice low and soft that you simply couldn’t deny him.

You also couldn’t fight the fact that you wanted him equally as much. Saying nothing you pressed your lips against his and he was quick to set the pace, starting gentle and then turning needy and sloppy with tongues rolling against each other. Consumed by the heat of the moment, Yunho grabbed your hips and perched you on his lap while he simultaneously sat up against the sofa. Like two puzzle pieces completing each other you slid your hands to the back of his neck and played with the hair on his nape. The movie was long forgotten and all the sound effects were drowned out by the muffled whines and moans filling the apartment.

“Yunho,” you panted and rolled your hips against his.

In return his hands roamed the sides of your body, squeezing at every curve and dip, and smirked at your beautiful noises. His every kiss and grope of flesh was driving you crazy and you were seconds away from begging for his fingers, mouth, cock. Whatever he wanted to do, you’d let him.

Breaking apart for air, Yunho didn’t stop showering you with affection and peppered kisses from your jaw down to your neck that you oh-so generously exposed by tilting your head sideways. Sucking, nipping and licking, he gave you no rest and awakened a needy pulse between your legs. Your breathy moans grew louder and shot straight to his groin and he had to physically restrain himself from bucking up against you. Thighs so thin you could feel the hard tent in his sweats that also did barely anything to cover his length. Wanting something else to occupy your hands, you slid them down his shoulders and chest, and with burning cheeks you sneaked them under his shirt exploring the muscles over his stomach. You traced each and every outline with feather-like touches that sent his stomach contracting and a deep groan reaching your ears. Your ego rocketed at the bodily reaction and quickly faltered as licked over the spot right between your jaw and ear, earning himself another breathy moan,

“Yunho, please.”

“Please, what?”

You could feel his devilish smirk against your skin. To coax you into speaking, he did it again followed by the graze of his teeth.

“Need yuh, please.”

“What, darling? What do you need?”

You whined as he continued the assault on your neck, covering it in beautiful love bites, and all you did in return was grind against his cock trying to find some relief to your aching cunt.

“Want me here?”

He flicked his thumb over your covered left boob and a sharp sensation shot from your cunt to your breast like lightning. The sudden change of atmosphere left you more courageous than usual. Grabbing the hem of your shirt you tore the material off yourself and left Yunho stunned. Despite not being completely nude, he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate you like the art you were.

“You’re beautiful,” he said and traced the edge of your bra cups.

Not expecting the night to take a drastic turn, you didn’t think to wear anything nice but a set of black underwear.

“May I?”

He reached around your body to the clasp holding your bra together. High on love, you nodded with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. His fingers grazed the skin on your back and left exploding tingles in his wake. With your consent he unclasped the top and cupped your breasts in his hands, giving them light squeezes that had you arching your back in response, pushing more into his touch.

“You’re perfect,” Yunho whispered and hovered his thumbs over the hardened nipples. “I wonder if they taste as sweet as they look.”

He breathed hot air over them making you squirm more in his lap and looking up, he was meet with your fucked out gaze – eyes barely open, lips swollen and shiny from his spit – and he was yet to even touch you properly. Easing you into it, he pressed a chaste kiss to your breastbone before latching around your left nub and sucking hard. Your hands flew up around his hair, pressing his head further into your chest. Yunho then released and blew gently on your puckered nipple.

“Mo-h, more!”

“I haven’t even touched you, baby, and you’re already whining? Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Yes! Yes, I can handle it, I’ll be so good, just pleas–”

Wasting no time, Yunho wrapped his lips around the other boob, giving it an equal amount of attention. His tongue drew circles around it, making it shiny just how he liked it and then sucked again. It was messy and nasty but felt so good. Your brain was already short circuiting and hips moved on their own, practically humping his hardened dick that stood proudly against the gray fabric. The thought of his cock – large and thick – had you soaking through your panties and you wondered how he’d make it fit. Would he use his long, nimble fingers or his tongue?

A lewd image of you laying in bed on your stomach with Yunho behind, dick aligned with your wet pussy, popped in your mind. Him groaning in your ear from how hard your pussy clenched around his cock and you moaning from the delicious stretch that came with every thrust, reaching deep into you. That alone could make you come right on the spo–

A sharp ring cut through your sinful thoughts, but Yunho kept sucking on your tits. In your dazed state he even shifted to the other one, saying something about taking care of his girls as he pinched the wet nub between his thumb and index fingers, squeezing and rolling it until you were left breathless.

“Yun-ah! Yunho! The phone,” you whined out.

“Ignore it,” he growled and kissed your neck again, hands coming down to squeeze your ass.

The feel of his large hands on your backside quickened the pace of your moving hips. You almost obeyed his order as the phone stopped buzzing only for it to pick up again. Finding the light in your hazed mind you put the intimacy on pause. Hands pushing at his shoulders until he complied and leaned against the sofa.

“It may be important. What if it’s one of the guys?”

Your words were distant as his eyes were locked on your chest dripping and bruised from his work.

“Yunho!”

“Wha– I’m listening!”

“Answer the phone, you weirdo.”

Standing up on wobbly legs you nearly toppled over and you would, hadn’t Yunho caught you by your hips. The ‘thanks’ died in your throat at the sight of his stiff cock. It wasn’t the first time he got hard from a make out session and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. You quickly put the shirt back on while he awkwardly grabbed his phone.

“Don’t cover up just yet, doll, I’m not done with you.” He answered the call with a, “This better be important.”

And it was judging by the way his jaw unclenched and eyes widened.

“Finally! Where the hell have you been?!” You could make out the faint and distressed voice of Yeosang. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a while now, we need a group meeting.”

“Group meeting? For what?”

Panic rose in a sickening surge as you listened to the one sided conversation.

“That’s the thing. I can’t say over phone so get your ass to Hongjoong’s.”

“Is everything alright?” You whispered from beside him.

“I’ll be there, just give me a few.”

The call ended and Yunho stuffed the phone in his back pocket.

“Yeah, or at least I think so? Yeosang called for a meeting but didn’t say why...”

A mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you took his hand in yours.

“Well then, pretty boy. I say you get over there and hurry back to me.”

The wiggle of your brows had you both bursting out in laughter and Yunho closed the distance between you once again.

Of all the things Yunho could expect the meeting to be about, he never imagined it to change the trajectory of his life. In less than twenty four hours Blue Bird would be signing a record deal with one of – if not the – biggest music companies in Seoul. Their teenage dreams of making music and performing in front of thousands would come true and Yunho couldn’t be happier. The one thing he was praying for, despite not feeding into his parents’ religion, came to life and in that moment he cursed himself for not sharing the same joy as his bandmates. Because all Yunho could think about was what that meant for you.

“We have to celebrate,” shouted Mingi and slung one arm over Yunho’s shoulders.

Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yeosang jumped in tow, all sporting wide grins and even tears shining in their eyes.

“I’ll call Wooyoungie and see if he wants to come,” replied Yeosang as he left for the kitchen.

“We should see if he’s up for designing us some clothes. It would give us more exposure for sure.”

Seonghwa clapped his hands together and immediately imagined the crazy clothes he’d have on stage. He’s always wanted to try corsets and heels, and pretty skirts and with Wooyoung’s magic he’d definitely not be disappointed.

“I’m bringing out the champagne!”

Yunho watched Hongjoong run after Yeosang, his platinum hair shining in the dim light, and slumped back against the couch. It was weird. He’s been dreaming of this opportunity ever since he was introduced to KISS back in middle school (secretly of course, God forbid his parents heard what their eldest son was listening to) but he couldn’t shake away the bittersweet feeling festering in his stomach. A rough shove against his side snapped him out of his dazed thoughts.

“You good?”

Mingi, always the observant one, noticed the flicker of sadness in Yunho’s eyes. The taller of the two nodded despite feeling his dinner climbing its way back out.

“Yeah, it’s just…crazy.”

“Tell me about it, but hey we’re just getting started. A whole new life’s waiting on us. Girls, money, fame, everything we’ve dreamed of, Yunho.”

For once, Yunho’s dreams of a fast and luxurious life with expensive bikes, clothes and VIP parties lasting until the early hours of the morning changed into something quiet and humble; an apartment big enough for two and a dog lingering between his legs as he laid in bed with you in his arms. His dream of swimming in money burst as a new cloud came to mind. A dream of a girl who brought out the best in him with her kind words and soft touches of affection. His own thoughts were taunting him just like his relatives did back in Gwangju – about the dream he’d never achieve – and unlike then he was starting to believe it.

That night Yunho didn’t allow himself to sleep. His mind tortured him with flashbacks of all the times the universe sent him signs that you were two stars on completely different sides of the galaxy. Yunho couldn’t light a cigarette without seeing your scrunched up face or drink a cup of coffee and not imagine your downturned lips and tongue sticking out in disgust. At the same time, he avoided anything and everything sweet as it worked as a reminder of the very person he deprived himself of.

After tossing and turning for the most part of the night, you woke up to the sound of heavy rain splattering against the windows of your bedroom. You couldn’t shake away the inkling feeling that it wouldn’t be the best day of your week, and considering last night’s scare you insisted your worry wasn’t unjustified. The time on your phone showed you still had a few hours before your alarm would go off for work. You wondered what Yunho was doing and what the meeting was about. There were no messages or calls from him, which wasn’t that unusual, but you were used to good morning texts and an array of different emojis.

Willing yourself not to think much of it, you made yourself a cup of coffee and clocked into work earlier than scheduled. You couldn’t stop thinking about Yunho and decided to send him a quick message despite the moral part of your inner-self telling you not to. The following embarrassment was locked in your work cabinet with all your belongings and worrisome thoughts. For the next eight hours you busied yourself with work; playing with the kids, serving them food, changing diapers, putting them to sleep. You moved on autopilot and didn’t, not once, think of a certain tall boy who could play the guitar blindfolded.

The clock struck five PM and you kept your dignity in mind as you refrained from bolting down the hallway. The last group of kids had just been picked up and you made a beeline for the locker room.

You [06:05 AM] Good morning 🌷how’d the meeting go? Delivered

The message was left unread and the delivered status was exceptionally bright. You couldn’t shake away the thought that something wasn't right, but you didn’t want to overwhelm Yunho as you still didn’t know what the meeting was about. You’d be damned if it turned out to be something bad. The last thing he needed was a girl pestering him about it. Doing what you did best, you put on a smile and went back home, but not before stopping by a bakery for some strawberry pastries with the hopes of sweetening up your gloomy afternoon.

The red bike you were very accustomed to stood parked outside your apartment building but its owner was nowhere in sight and your phone was still void of notifications. It could only mean one thing. You raced up the flight of stairs and lo and behold there he was; sitting on the stair outside your door with a lighter twirling between his thumb and index finger. He looked nothing like the Yunho you knew. His face was bare and lacked the usual dark makeup smudged on his skin, and he only wore a gray hoodie and sweatpants while his fingers were void of silver bands and whatnots. He still looked handsome as ever though.

“Yuyu!”

You jumped in his arms and he grabbed onto the railing not to fall backwards. Your body slotted perfectly against his and your breath tickled his neck. Yunho had one arm around your waist and the other moved to cup the back of your neck. He inhaled your vanilla perfume and tried engraving in his mind.

“I thought I recognized your ride. What are you doing here?”

“Just needed to see you,” he replied as you moved to unlock the door.

His hand itched to reach for yours. To have you tucked under his arm or back glued to his chest, elbows or knees touching, anything really. He just needed the feel of your touch.

“Ah, you had me worried! I mean I’m happy to see you, but you didn’t reply to my text this morning and seeing the bike I really thought something happened.”

A forced laugh made its way past his lips and he was quick to pat your head.

“You always worry about me, don’t you?”

His hand slid down to your jaw and thumb caressed your chin, grazing your bottom lip.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my phone at Hongjoong’s and he’s still at work so I couldn’t get it. Was it something important?”

“You’ll drive me into an early grave, Jeong Yunho.”

“Yah, don’t say that!”

Yunho nearly ascended like a helium balloon at the sound of your laughter. The Heaven’s gate came to view as you blessed him with that bright smile of yours. Teasingly you got closer to him so your breaths mingled in the air.

“Who will be the death of who now?”

The question was soft and came out in a hushed whisper, and if you weren’t a pinky away from him you’d completely miss it. Yunho gazed into your eyes and you had never felt so seen before. He looked at you as if you had the world in your palms and he was ready to risk it all. A bit flustered under his loving stare, you tried reflecting his attention elsewhere.

“How’d the meeting go?”

The moment the words left your mouth Yunho visibly sagged and his lips pursed into a tight line. You tried finding an answer in his suddenly softened eyes but all you could see in them was sadness. Yunho cleared his throat and widened the distance between you as if it would lighten the blow of his news.

“So…Blue Bird is signing a record deal with Brother Choi Industries…”

“Oh my God! Yunho, that's great!”

Yunho caught you in the air. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and your cheek squished against his. The happiness surged out of you like rays of the sun and instead of warming him up, it pierced his body to the core. You planted a quick kiss to his cheek that left a prickling feeling after and then you were down again, feet meeting the floor.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?! We have to celebrate! C’mon, we’ll do whatever, it’s on me.”

Fingers latched around his wrist and the purse with all your belongings thrown over your shoulder, you headed for the door again but Yunho didn’t budge. Like an oak rooted to the ground, he stood in place and it dawned on you that he didn’t match your excitement.

“Can’t we just, I don’t know, stay inside? Watch a movie or something…”

“Yeah– yeah, of course,” you whispered and led him to the living room. “Put on whatever and I’ll bring some snacks.”

You couldn’t help but worry. News like that usually called for drinks or a nice dinner with one's friends or family. The thoughts of what could have happened were endless and did nothing to soothe the growing ball of anxiety in your abdomen. Patient as always you didn’t push further on the matter and just gathered whatever snacks you had in your cupboards (oreos and a half-empty packet of chips). Your eyes traveled the length of Yunho’s body stretched out on the sofa and then shifted to the TV.

“Bluey?”

“I like the gentle-parenting,” Yunho whispered and you nearly turned into a puddle on the spot.

“It’s a good show. I give it five stars and the preschool teacher approval stamp.”

As you laid down everything on the table, Yunho raised one arm in the air, a silent request for you to make yourself at home in his hold. Head on his chest, you could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart and the warmth seeping through his thick clothes. His hands were intertwined on your lower back, occasionally rubbing his thumbs over the fabric which would have any cat purring in seconds. Your left arm was squished against the sofa while the other played with one of the strings on his hoodie.

The series of colorful dogs wasn’t new to you as almost the entirety of the kids at the preschool had some kind of product with the cartoon characters splayed on, whether it be a backpack, water bottle or bandaids. It was either that or Paw Patrol, and personally speaking you preferred the Australian doggos.

For a good hour or two Yunho just laid there with his eyes glued to the animated show but mind running laps. He didn’t reach for any of the goods on the table or excused himself for a pee-break he so desperately needed because he knew the moment he moved, you’d look at him with pleading eyes and ask what’s on his mind. And although he’d been camping outside your apartment for three hours, he still couldn't find the right words to tell you what’s been bugging him since Yeosang’s revelation. He wasn’t there to tell you about the stupid record deal or how he forgot his phone (it was in his back pocket). Yunho came to break things up, something he knew was inevitable since the first night he laid eyes on you.

“Yuyu,” you whispered and poked his cheek, trying to get his attention.

The guitarist was there physically but where he had gone mentally was a mystery and you noticed it early on when he didn’t mention anything about Bandit playing the toy drum set.

“Hmm?”

He blinked back to reality and turned to face you who had changed position to lay flat on him, chin perched on top of your hand and pouty lips.

“Your heartbeat’s really loud. Is everything okay?”

Nothing about this was okay.

It wasn’t okay that your bodies fit like puzzle pieces. It wasn’t okay that you were great together despite your contrasting looks. It wasn’t okay that the girl of his dreams was the polar opposite of himself.

“I’m just thinking…a lot.”

“About the record label?”

Fuck the record label, is what Yunho wanted to say. It was the last thing on his mind, right below his parents and every other person who had their doubts about him. The real words lingered on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken out in the open and he nearly swallowed them back down, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie, not when you looked at him with worry written all over your features.

“About…you. About us.”

“What about us?”

Your voice came out higher at the end and he knew the question you were thinking of was something completely different than what he was about to say, and it hurt so much.

“It's just not…I don’t think we’re that good of a match.”

He caught the moment your world came crashing down. How the light of worry turned into confusion.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

By that point you both sat back up on your knees and hands on your thighs, while he moved so his legs were drawn up to his chest.

“I don’t understand. I thought you liked me...”

“I do, but it’s not– I’m…sorry.”

This was all too much for you and you were torn between lashing out in anger or hearing him out. Your heart pounded against your chest and you could feel it crack from the pressure of his confession. As if that wasn’t enough a stinging sensation burned behind your eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything from the start then? If you never wanted this to happen, why’d you kiss me in the first place or take me out on dates? We’ve been tiptoeing between friends and something more for the past six months and suddenly we can’t be either?!”

The desperation dripping from your words was clear as a summer’s sky and while you tried to prove a point, Yunho wasn’t having any of it.

“It felt right in the moment, but the more time we spent together I realized that we’re too different, it just won’t work–"

You were quick to follow up. Tongue sharp and fire behind your words, they were nothing like the sweet scent of strawberries and roses he was used to. Yunho had never seen you so upset.

“This has nothing to do with our differences, Yunho! We are great together and we’ve proven it countless times. There’s something deeper than that, something you’re not telling me and I don’t know why. What have I done to ruin your trust in me?”

A beat of silence passed. The apartment was completely quiet and you wondered if the neighbors were listening in on the argument, and if they did then what a great first impression Yunho was leaving them with.

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin you,” he whispered, lips in a pout and eyes glistening like an ocean’s reflection of a night sky.

As if a pair of invisible hands, the words plunged into your chest and forcefully grabbed at your heart only to tear out the poor beating organ and throw it across the ground. To think Yunho saw himself as a problem – as a stain in your life – that he was depriving him (and you) of something beautiful, it fucking hurt.

“Don’t do that. That’s not fair, Yunho. You’d never ruin me, do you understand? This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time and I need you to know it.”

“It’s not going to work. You’re too good and I’m– you’re, I’m bad for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me! It’s not like I’ve never touched a cigar before in my life, or tried strong liquor or, I don’t know, had flings here and there! You’re talking as if you’re a drug lord or something. You’re just a– a– an upcoming rockstar! With an ambition that takes up a lot of your time and who occasionally smokes and drinks to de-stress. Don’t think I’m some saint you’re going to corrupt because I’m far from it, Yunho.”

Silence.

While Yunho knew everything you said to be true, it didn’t fit the image he created of you and he could only fault himself for it. You noticed his eyes wandered around, jumping from furniture to furniture, all to avoid yours. So with shaky hands you gently – like he was a baby chick – cradled his chin and turned him towards you.

“I want you, so why won’t you let me have you?”

The crack in your voice confirmed his stupid theory of being bad for you. It was better this way, but goddammit did he want to wrap you up in his embrace and kiss the top of your head and whisper soothing things in your ear. To say ‘I’m not going nowhere’ and ‘I’m sorry’ a thousand times over until the damage would glue itself back together. He wanted to be the one giving you strength and not stack rocks upon rocks on your shoulders.

“It’s not just about that. I’m going to be a…rockstar soon. The fans, some of them are going to be nice, but not all will wish the best for us. If something were to come out about us, they’d leave you restless. I’ve seen it happen to others and I don’t want you to suffer that same path.”

And if you could see through his lies, you mentioned nothing of it.

“That’s not your decision to make and you know it! I like you and you obviously like me, nothing else matters besides that, please, listen to me. Yunho, I don’t care about anything else but you.”

He nuzzled against your palm and leaned closer until his forehead rested against yours. He wanted to remind you of your agreement, to call him Yuyu and only that, but it was a privilege he wasn’t granted anymore. You squeezed your eyes shut, not bearing to see his wet cheek, but even that didn’t stop your own tears. You felt the soft pad of his thumb wipe away the streams of salty water flowing down your skin and you didn’t know what was worse. That he was the reason behind them or that it was the first and last time he’d ever wipe tears from your face again.

“You’re gonna have a good life without me, you’re gonna grow and go places. You’re gonna get that cat lady shop and be the best cat shop cashier the world has ever seem, and you’ll meet someone way better than me–”

“But I want you!”

“You’re gonna forget about me and find someone deserving of you. Someone that can shower you with unconditional love.”

“Then be that someone. Get better, do better and stop trying to ruin this thing we have!”

“And I want you to stay just as you are. Okay? Gentle and loving and sweet. This world doesn’t deserve you and neither do I, but you deserve someone, yeah, sweet pea?”

Yunho’s voice cracked and you quickly dragged him into a bone crushing hug. He hid in the crook of your neck, arms going around you in a tight grip as if you’d disappear the second he let go. In the safety of your arms he let down his guard and the loud cries that followed prickled your skin just as much as yours clawed at his heart. You stayed in each other’s hold and drew soothing shapes on each other’s backs as you cried your hearts out.

Your arms were numb and your body refused to produce more tears to cry, but even then you didn’t budge. You knew if you let go Yunho would take it as his cue to leave and you couldn’t bear that just how you couldn’t stop whimpering as he pressed soft kisses to your temple or whispered apologies in your ear.

“I have to go,” he eventually whispered and your heart – that you were still picking up the pieces of – broke all over again, sending shards of blood and tissue everywhere.

Your hold tightened and he truly felt evil as he broke out of your grip and got a good look at your swollen face.

“I’m so sorry, sweet pea.”

“Pluh-please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kiss me, then,” you wailed. “If you can’t stay, just kiss me one last time.”

Never one to deny your wishes he slotted his lips against your and tasted the mix of your salty tears. Your fingers curled painfully in his cheeks and the hold he had on your waist was sure to leave bitter bruises in the morning. Yunho poured every ounce of affection, his heart and soul – his everything – into the kiss. It was something he’d never done before but he needed you to know that while you maybe hadn’t reached the stage of love just yet, his adoration of fondness was never fake. Whatever feeling he had for you that was the closest to love, it was never fake.

Teary eyes stared into each other as you parted, breaths heavy and lungs ready to burst through your chest. He gave you one last peck on the cheek and broke free from your grip, and like the broken record left in his childhood bedroom, he repeated the useless apologetic words until they lost all their meaning. Your muffled cries shot straight to his heart and he could feel it crack with each step taken further away from you

As Yunho passed the threshold of your apartment for the last time, he kept telling himself that it was for the best. Your undeserving love would just be ruined in the palms of his hands and he had to leave before it became something he was too afraid to let go off. He had to leave even if meant snapping free from the vines you barely managed to twine around his limbs. It would be sharp and quick and hurt like a paper cut but with no permanent scars.

The more he lingered around you, the deeper and tighter the roots went and more sweetpeas would grow and wrap around his body, and fill him with a love and warmth that was impossible to flee. And when the seasonal change began and all the birds fled somewhere warmer, he’d have no choice but to forcefully cut the vines curled around him and hurt you beyond repair. That wasn’t something Yunho could ever see himself do and before it turned into a cloying love, he’d save you both the hurt and pain, and just leave. You’d eventually grow your sweetpeas somewhere else.

Because in the end, you were all too sweet for him.

Author's note pt.2: I've read a lot of different interpretations of the song and I wanted to share my (if you haven't kind of already grasped it). While reading the lyrics, I understood that person A doesn't believe they are worthy of person B because of their different life styles and nature. In short, they are complete opposites. While that can be good (opposites attract) person A doesn't see it that way. They know right from the start that they aren't destined to be (the reasons to this are endless) yet they still try to pursue a relationship with person B until something tells them "this isn't right". Now being polar opposites, Person B thinks that person A is the one for them despite their differences. As mentioned, I know there are a lot of different opinions of what the actual meaning of the song is and I can totally get behind those too, but this was my first interpretation and what kick-started this whole oneshot.

Disclaimer For this fic, I didn't want to make it into an experienced x inexperienced trope. Mainly because a lot of people associate innocence with dressing/acting cutesy which I believe isn't valid. People can still like pastel colors, cute trinkets, dress cute and still be experienced (with sex, smoking, drinking, tattoos, piercings, etc). I think it gives a little more depth to the story by not making the MC new to all that, but I'm not trying to spread shame on those who are inexperienced as there's absolutely nothing wrong with it!!!

Also it's my first time ever writing something close to smut and it was so hard! I can't stress it enough 😭 I'll have to practice it way more before even attempting the real deal lmao. While we're at it, it's also my first time writing for Yunho so I hope I brought him justice!

If you've made it this far I just wanna thank you for reading (everything) and I hope you've enjoyed ❤️

#[🐶] HONGJOONGSPOETRY #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho oneshot #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #ateez songfic #kpop x reader #songfic #hozier #too sweet hozier #fluff #angst #rockstar au

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hariboz · 2 days

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boyfriend!ricky thoughts bc that’s my man!!

boyfriend!ricky who is so soft spoken and gentle with you, even during your disagreements. he doesn’t want to be mean to you, ever. it makes his heart ache if the anger he’s usually so good at covering up slips through his calm demeanour and causes him to say things he would never mean; spends so much time gently mending your heart after fights, whether he was mean or not, just because he hates fighting either way.

boyfriend!ricky who is so particular about his skincare and hygiene products but will always steal your shampoo if he can. pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about when you jokingly pester him, only for him to slip up with a giggle. says he likes the smell to be around him all day, because it feels like you’re with him (he’s a charmer)

boyfriend!ricky who gets soooo cocky when you compliment him, cheesy grin on his face as he eggs you on to say more about him. oh you like his hair? what else? you think he did well on stage? great, anything else?? it’s so endearing, the way he’s shyly smiling to himself while your praise him, it’s hard to not pepper his face in kisses and tell him every little detail you love about him. the way his ears turn red is just another bonus to the lovelicky phenomenon 🫶🏻

boyfriend!ricky who sends you details for upcoming dramas, asking which one you want to watch with him. it’s a commitment and not a suggestion, which means you’ll have to either be cuddled up right next to him every time a new episode comes out, or you need to make time so you can facetime and watch the episode together that way if you can’t be together in person. loves to share his unwinding time with you <3

boyfriend!ricky who is, contrary to his looks, the softest man to ever grace your life. sososo soft at heart and so genuinely in love it almost hurts. very in tune with your feelings and while he does sometimes struggle with communicating or expressing his feelings, you can count on him to always try and offer you the best version of himself. wants to be someone you can rely and fall back on. very much the enamoured type :(( 🫶🏻

boyfriend!ricky who has the money to buy you all the luxuries in the world — which he does — but he loves surprising you with little trinkets he finds on his shopping tours. he loves gifting you things, big or small, and there’s something so inherently lovely about receiving small, seemingly unimportant gifts that are actually so well thought out. ricky knows you incredibly well, so he doesn’t need to break the bank to make you happy, even if he likes to do just that just as much. one day he’ll come home with matching bracelets that cost him hundreds, and the next he will silently hand you a matching keychain he got from a little diy stand, all while he has that adorable, shy smile on his face. 🫶🏻

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skzdarlings · 23 hours

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bodyguard: the first guard | part three | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

part one | part two | part three | tba

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture. mentions of past sexual abuse, detailed descriptions of needles. chapter word count: 12,525 words.

B E F O R E

“Happy fourteenth birthday.”

Felix looks up from his work. He underperformed in training today and landed himself a punishment. His good record spared him anything too painful, but he has been assigned cleaning duty. Taking apart, cleaning, and reassembling weapons is not difficult work – he could do it in his sleep – but it is tedious.

Tedium is its own kind of torture, especially these days with his mind in a state of tumult. He has grown closer to Chris with each passing day. Felix knows they are not meant to think of each other as friends, just fellow soldiers, but that is the word Felix uses.

My friend.

That is who stands over Felix now. Chris is smiling and holding something wrapped in what looks like a kitchen napkin. Felix blinks at it, then furrows his brow.

“Huh?” Felix says. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Could be!” Chris says.

Felix supposes Chris has a point. Felix does not actually know his own birthday because he bounced around foster care before he found himself in Miroh’s program. If his birthday was recorded anywhere, no one told him what it was. So it could be his birthday. The odds are not great but not impossible.

“Um,” Felix says, because no one has ever wished him a happy – or happy possible – birthday. He guesses the best reply is, “Thanks?”

“It’s not a trick, man,” Chris says, smiling. He laughs at Felix, though it doesn’t feel cruel, and ruffles his hair before shoving the little wrapped item at him. “Here,” Chris says. “Got it especially for you.”

Felix unfolds the napkin and finds a cookie. It’s not the kind of food that is served at the regiment because their diet is so strict. Food is a sustenance and not a pleasure.

“Wow,” Felix says. It is a genuine surprise. Chris had to go out of his way to get this.

Felix feels embarrassed. He still struggles to cope with feeling in general. He almost yearns for a simpler, more naïve time, when he didn’t have to think or feel, just trust and follow. Now he is a flustered knot of embarrassment because Chris is giving him presents just because Felix mentioned he had never received one. It was an off-handed remark a few days ago, that he didn’t know his birthday and had never received a present but that it didn’t matter because he didn’t deserve it.

And he didn’t, he doesn’t, deserve any of it. Not a birthday wish or a thoughtful gift or Chris’s friendship. Felix has so much blood on his hands and he doesn’t how much of it is innocent. He never counted his kills like some other agents, stupid kids bragging to seem bigger and more powerful than their circumstances. Felix never did it for glory. He knew his place. Now he doesn’t count them because it doesn’t matter. It all comes back to him when he closes his eyes. He remembers what they were wearing, what they said before they died, the things they begged to a naïve, indifferent child.

He doesn’t count them because he doesn’t need a number to know it’s too much and he will never be able to take it back. He doesn’t deserve birthdays and friendships and Chris. He never will.

He doesn’t say this out loud. He knows Chris will argue with him, belligerent in his kindness and reassurance. Felix won’t listen in turn. The conversation would be useless. Rather than bother, Felix asks, “Where did you get it?”

“Hey, I know I’m trouble,” Chris says, still smiling, “but I got connections too, you know?”

Felix guesses he means Miroh’s daughter as she is the only agent with outside connections. They seem to have a tenuous understanding because she and Chris get in the most trouble. Chris, because he still bristles at commands and steps out of line. Her, because she’s Miroh’s daughter and held to a higher standard than the rest of them.

Chris can befriend almost anyone, garnering admiration in his peers if nothing else. His rebellious streak means no one wants visible association with him, but in the quietest of corners there is a whispered respect for the First Guard. He is as notorious as he is skilled and he has a natural leadership.

Felix supposes it is not outside the realm of possibility that even Miroh’s daughter would consider Chris a friend – but only somewhere even quieter than most.

Felix does not consider Miroh’s daughter a friend and he doubts he ever will. Her proximity to Miroh makes her an even bigger liability than Chris. Felix would never get close to someone like that, born into their position and too close to power for his liking.

“Miroh’s daughter, you mean,” Felix says.

Felix might keep his musings close to his heart, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t read them anyway. Chris is a soldier by instinct if not choice. He is always one step ahead. It’s like he is inside Felix’s head. He seems to know what Felix will do before Felix does.

“Yeah,” Chris says. He rubs the back of his neck, breathing deeply. He looks almost sheepish, as if admitting he knows better. “She’s not that bad when you get to know her. Really.”

Felix is certain he looks unconvinced. It makes Chris laugh.

“You look worried,” Chris says.

“I do worry about you,” Felix says. He looks down at the cookie in his hand. It is hard to say out loud, but he manages a weak, “You’re my friend.”

Chris is suspiciously quiet. When Felix looks up, Chris has a determination to his countenance.

“Find me when you’re done here,” Chris says. “I wanna show you something.”

Felix, as usual, does as he is told. When his punishment ends, he tracks Chris to the barracks where the older boy is patiently waiting. He claps Felix on the shoulder but otherwise doesn’t stop to greet him. He is a little skittish as he leads Felix to their mysterious destination.

It is not so extraordinary in the end. Nothing around here is. Everything is cold chrome and sleek silver, one room much like the next, branded by Miroh as surely as its occupants.

Chris knocks out a ventilation panel then leads Felix to what looks like an unused crawl space, forgotten and collecting dust.

“Welcome to my office,” Chris jokes, still with that nervous laughter. It is putting Felix on edge.

“Is everything all right?” Felix asks.

“Well, no, Felix,” Chris says. “It isn’t. You know that now, don’t you?”

A couple years of shared assignments between the best and second best, the rebellious and the reluctant. A couple years of watching Miroh bludgeon his way through the world. A couple years of regret.

A couple years of friendship to change everything.

“Yeah,” Felix says. It is all he needs to say.

“Sit,” Chris says. There is a corner of the room that has been cleared of dust, this part of the hideaway evidently well-used. “Let’s talk.”

Whatever conversation Felix expects to have, it is not the one he gets. He sits and watches Chris, watches him breathe and measure his words. Chris is usually confident in what he has to say, even when staring down a barrel of a gun. This is more than disconcerting.

“I’ve been talking to some others in the program,” Chris says. “We’re all growing up. I’ll be eighteen soon. If we’re already strong, we’re just gonna get stronger. Miroh has complete control over us. I’m scared that if we don’t do something about it soon, then everything is going to get worse. A lot, lot worse.”

“Do something,” Felix says, his mind going a mile a minute. “What do you mean? Who else have you told about this?”

“People I consider friends,” Chris says. He puts a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “People like you, Felix.”

He thinks of the cookie in his pocket. His heart punches up with alarm.

“Miroh’s daughter?” Felix asks and this time he knows for certain his thoughts are very clear. He says her name – not even her name, her position, the daughter and heir of the very thing Chris wants to fight – and he says it with the obvious inflection of what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking?

“She’s a friend,” Chris says in a voice he usually reserves for an enemy. It startles Felix into silence. Seeing that, Chris smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to trust her,” Chris says. “Just trust me. Felix, I want to get us out, all of us. I don’t want that man or any other man like him to hurt anyone else. Not kids, not adults, not anyone. I won’t put you in more danger, I swear. That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m gonna protect you, okay? I’m gonna protect all of you. When the time comes to take a stand, I just want you to be ready. If something happens, if it all goes wrong…”

Felix looks at him, alarm and worry plain on his young face. Chris squeezes his shoulder again.

“If…” Chris swallows then continues, “If it is all goes wrong, I’ll pay the price alone. But I’d rather die trying to save all of you than live another day hurting innocent people for Miroh.”

“Chris—” Felix starts, an argument on his tongue.

“Don’t,” Chris says firmly. “If there was anything worth dying for, Felix, then it’s this. I’m gonna get you out. I’m gonna get you all out. I swear. Just be ready for when I say. Just trust me. Just be my friend.”

Felix spends a week after that in a state of restless turmoil. He sleeps poorly and fights worse and even spends a night in the Cell for his mistakes.

He doesn’t know what to think about Chris and his intentions. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But if it worked…

It wouldn’t take the blood off Felix’s hands, but it would be a start to something better. Felix has little thought for his own fate, undeserving as he is, but he thinks about Chris. Chris, the First Guard, who has been here the longest, who has watched the most people die, who has been punished the worst.

Chris deserves better.

Felix believes in Chris. He believes if Chris made an effort, then he would have what it takes to make a difference. Felix knows Chris is capable. He could do what he sets out to do.

It is not Chris that Felix worries about.

Felix observes Miroh’s daughter, studying her more closely than ever before. Felix trusts Chris’s general discretion but he worries Chris has a blind spot concerning her. They are the only two in their age category and they share a small barrack, the forced proximity undoubtedly creating a semblance of intimacy. Chris might trust her but Felix is not so biased. All he sees is Miroh.

Felix watches her. She doesn’t spend much time with Chris in public, her only close relationship with Seo Changbin. They are a bit notorious together. Felix would not call them the best fighters but they are tricky. He is pretty sure they throw their fights with each other and embellish more than necessary. Both like a good skull crash, more brutal than efficient. The trickery and brutality makes Felix more wary of her.

At the same time, her obvious friendship with Changbin shows she can care about someone else. The pair throw a mean punch but always patch each other up after.

Chris catches Felix watching them. They are having a go in the ring, punching and flipping, grinning when they think no one is watching. They have smiles just for each other.

“You look really deep in thought, mate,” Chris says, laughing. He hands Felix a water bottle while toweling down his own sweaty neck.

“Huh?” Felix finally breaks his concentration. He takes the water and smiles one of his instinctive but fake smiles – the kind he uses on a mission, when he is trying to convince an adversary that he is an innocent, unassuming kid.

Chris sees through it, of course. He lifts an eyebrow at Felix then follows his line of sight to the ring.

“What?” Chris says, laughing again. His own ears turn a little red as he teases, “You got a crush on her or something?”

“Ew, shut up,” Felix says, throwing his own towel at him. He feels flushed despite the fact it is vehemently untrue. He is not used to being provoked with that line of teasing. “No,” he says certainly. “I have no feelings for anyone. But I think they might.”

“Huh?” Chris looks between Felix and the ring. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at them,” Felix says. “They’re a little too close, don’t you think?”

Presently, Miroh’s daughter has Changbin pinned to the mat. She is on top of him and whispering something that makes them both snicker.

Chris stares at them. After a beat of contemplative silence, he laughs. Felix recognizes the fake sound, the same disarming humour Felix uses when conning someone.

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?”

Felix watches Chris amble over. He says something to the duo and Changbin retaliates with some non-descript shouting and flailing. Miroh’s daughter rolls her eyes. She grabs Chris by the collar and yanks him into a fight.

The rest of the day progresses without much fuss or bother. Miroh has no jobs for them today so the schedule is just training and recuperation.

Felix manages to avoid punishment today. He tries expelling his anxiety in a fight but it does not fully work. Felix has come to realize he is not very good at letting go. Belief, emotion, the good, the bad: all of gets clutched in his fists and held to his heart.

Fighting tires him but it is not a satisfying tired, of exerted muscles and a pumping heart. He feels weary and everything everywhere is so loud, the chrome and steel of the Miroh facilities like an echoing dome. It cycles all that noise in an agonizing reverberation. It feels inescapable. He goes to the barracks which are smaller but it makes the claustrophobia worse.

Laying in his bunk, rubbing his temples, Felix dreams of a quiet room of his own.

It is then he remembers Chris’s hideaway. Chris miraculously dodged punishment today so he retreated to the barracks a while ago. Felix doesn’t want to disturb him but he figures Chris won’t mind him using the hideaway on his own if he’s careful.

They are permitted access to the training room for the few hours between work and mandatory repose. The hideaway is en route so it is easy for Felix to stealthily retrace his steps without raising suspicion. He disappears in the security blind spot the way Chris showed him.

Felix is in the tunnel when he hears a noise. He worries he was followed despite being so careful, but then he realizes the noise is ahead of him, not behind him.

He freezes in the crawl tunnel, trying to discern the sound. It doesn’t sound like talking, more like… breathing? Heavy breathing.

Then he hears a laugh that he recognizes as Chris. And he is not alone. The other noise is a sigh, a lighter, more feminine sound.

Oh.

Apparently, Chris’s hideaway is not just for talking to friends. The sound of kissing and sighing is more friendly than his conversation with Felix, that’s for sure.

Felix is frozen for a minute, too stunned and embarrassed to think of moving. He has to shuffle backwards to escape because he can’t turn in that part of the crawl space. If this was a mission, he could do it, but this is personal. He doesn’t want to get caught but it’s not because it will compromise any job; it’s because it will be awkward.

He scuffs his shoe in his backwards shuffle. It clangs, a subtle sound, but one that makes him wince.

It goes quiet around the corner. Felix knows he was heard and there is no time to escape. Seconds later, a frantic looking Chris is in the tunnel, red-faced with a line of sweat on his brow. His uniform is clearly dishevelled and Felix gets even more embarrassed.

Those feelings need somewhere to go. It comes out of him in a burst of frustration.

“What are you doing?” Felix demands, his voice breaking.

“Nothing!” Chris says, clearly a knee-jerk reaction. Then he takes a breath and says, “Look, I can explain—”

“It’s not Miroh’s daughter,” Felix says. He can’t even pose it as a question because he refuses to believe Chris could genuinely be that reckless and stupid. Befriending her is one thing – a stupid thing – but fooling around with the daughter of the powerful man who owns them is begging for tragedy.

“I’m not stupid,” Chris says.

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix says. “Whoever it is, you need to stop.”

“Look—”

“Seriously, Chris!”

“Felix—”

“It’s not worth it!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Chris snaps. “You’re not normal and you don’t understand what it means to care about someone like that.”

It is obviously thoughtless, blurted in the head of the moment. It hurts anyway. Felix wonders if Chris can see the pain on his face because Chris looks immediately remorseful.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that—” Chris starts.

“It’s fine,” Felix says. “You’re right.”

“Felix—”

Felix pushes backwards and leaves without waiting for any protest. He does not stop, marching all the way back to this bunk. Anger and embarrassment have finally dissipated by the time he returns. It has been replaced with determination.

Chris is the best, but he has been compromised whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. He feels too much, for everyone and everything, and it will get him in even more trouble than he is already in. if he retaliates with thoughtless provocation when it’s just Felix confronting him, then what will he do when it’s Miroh and the stakes are even higher?

Chris said he would protect them all. He swore to succeed at any cost, including his own life. There is no one swearing the same for him. No one has ever protected him.

Felix is the second best. He has never left a job unfinished and for that he is not deserving of the protection Chris is offering.

It won’t clean the blood on his hands, but if Felix can save a life worth more than his own, then maybe it will start to justify all of this, all of him.

Chris was right. Felix is not normal. But he was wrong say that Felix doesn’t know what it means to care about someone. Because of Chris, Felix knows how to care. He knows what he has to do.

Chris can try and save them all.

Felix is going to save Chris.

P R E S E N T D A Y

Miroh’s main facility has fallen.

It sounds so dramatic for something so anticlimactic, like you are describing the collapse of a kingdom and not the shutdown of his main office operation.

It feels like an apocalyptic demise.

You and Chan fight your way out of the building, taking on the people who fight in your name. Your father’s name. Miroh.

Miroh is dead. Irrefutably broken, little more than a heap of meat on the tarmac. With him gone and the only named heir on the run – you – this facility will shut down to maintain security.

Miroh ran a meticulously compartmentalized business. There is protocol for everything so even if one part of his operation fell, the rest could continue unimpeded. Miroh tried to establish a legacy that could rival old money like his enemy, going so far as to predict his own demise. Miroh has long braced for the eventuality of his end, so he made sure his business could fracture and run without him.

He did everything in his power to make you just like him, a little broken fracture of himself to ensure that legacy. But then he could not actually face what he created. He could not actually let go. He was the only one with the perspective and power and he had to keep it that way.

Miroh would not have accounted for your rebellion, not for the sake of someone else. For a friend.

Flashes of the last twenty four hours play in your mind. You can hardly pinpoint the change in yourself. It feels like this was somehow inevitable, despite how much you would have balked at the idea before. But now it is all that matters. It’s all that makes sense in this chaos.

You have to find your friend. This facility will be empty in a matter of hours, but there are others. Changbin is in one of them. You have no idea where to start.

One thing at a time, you tell yourself. Before you can ruminate on anything behind or in front of you, you need to fight. You do not have time for introspection or planning. You need to get away. Away from this place, away from your dead father.

Away from his soldier, the First Guard, Bang Chan, who for some reason is helping you escape.

You don’t know why. You seriously doubt your barely coherent pleading broke the conditioning and literal torture that made him into this thing.

You don’t have time to find out. At the first opportunity, you break away, leaving him with a handful of operatives to fight. It should keep them all occupied while you escape.

You do not want to risk trapping yourself in an enclosed space, so you do not venture to the parking garage where the company vehicles are stored. Some of them will be programmed and bugged. You feel bad targeting a civilian, but stealing one of their cars is the safest bet. There are some administrative employees who complete menial tasks for the company, those with next to no clearance level. They park their personal cars around the facility. You pick one that is easy to reconfigure without a key to boot.

Minutes later, you are driving for an exit. Your whole body is aching but you push through it. There will be time to recuperate when you are in the clear.

Sirens wail and alarms blare, every security measure in action. Your escape is certainly not a clean one but it doesn’t matter. You just need to get away.

If you can get off the facility grounds, you can lose any adversaries in the back country roads. The route to the facility was intentionally designed to be a convoluted labyrinth, making it difficult for enemies to approach without giving the facility ample preparation time. You know the paths better than anyone. You can get away.

A soldier marches right into the middle of your escape path.

It is too brazen for a regular agent. They would not be so stupid to try that, knowing you would just barrel into them.

You speed closer and recognize the First Guard. Chan is unflinching as ever, standing in the middle of the road as if he intends to stop your car with his body. He is strong but not that strong. You know that. But he looks like an inhuman phantom, looming there in his combat gear and mask, unphased and unharmed despite the hour of nonstop violence.

But that’s not the reason you stop. You think about him in that van. You could only see his eyes but they were expressive, the tilt of his head inquisitive.

You slam on the brakes. The car stops inches from his body but he doesn’t even blink.

Your heart is racing, breath bursting in gasps. He strolls around the car as if he was just waiting for his ride.

Soldiering instinct propels your hands. You draw a gun as he opens the passenger-side door. He bends down and looks at you, his brow quirked with a silent question. Your hand shakes and he is too good not to notice. You know that, but a regular person would never guess because he does not take his eyes off yours.

He disarms you, faster than a blink. He drops into the passenger seat, then slams the door and shoves the gun in its storage compartment.

You stare at him. Your gaze follows the line of his stark profile. His hairline is a little sweaty but he doesn’t look out of breath.

You don’t know what to think.

This is the longest you have been in his company since you were kids in training. Your memory of him is insubstantial, having spent little to no time with him personally. But it hardly matters what he was. Now he’s a soldier above all soldiers, a shadow filling this small civilian car. He’s not the biggest man in the world but he’s overwhelming all the same, partially because of his uniform and partially because of his posture. He feels too big for this little human space. His knee hits the gear shift, his thighs bulky in the small seat, his shoulders broad where he leans back.

He looks across the car and meets your eyes. You think about how many people have met this gaze, maybe in a moment just like this, sitting across from Miroh’s asset in a little civilian vehicle before he put a bullet between their eyes or snapped their neck. You have seen the results of his missions even if you were not involved in them. The statistics and numbers speak for themselves. Those eyes have seen more death than life and right now they are resolutely focussed on you.

You jump when he lifts his hand. He says nothing but turns the rearview mirror in your direction. You reluctantly peel your gaze away from him. You see what he sees: a vehicle in rapid pursuit of your own.

“Shit,” you say. You shove the mirror back into place. Your hands collide for a split second.

You can’t linger on the weirdness of this moment, that the First Guard is your ally, sitting in the passenger seat and helping you escape.

You drive. The other vehicle chases you down. You get past the easy security measures, blowing past gates and guards. When you approach the last gate, Chan rolls down the window and twists his body. He pulls the stashed gun and aims somewhere. Your eyes are on the road so you don’t see exactly what he does, but the gate slams shut between you and the pursuing vehicle, trapping them on the other side.

Then it is just you, him, and the road.

He puts the gun away. He sits back. He rolls up the window. He makes it seem like a routine, still unphased while your heart pounds with adrenaline.

You do not look at him. You do not speak. You focus on escape, taking a convoluted path through the countryside just in case. When the facility is far, far behind you, you take a back road and pull into a shadowed space between some trees.

You slam to a stop, shift the gear to park, but keep the engine running. You clutch the steering so hard, you imagine it cracking beneath the force of your grip.

Chan still does not speak. The last time he spoke was on that rooftop. What now?

A damn good question.

You look at him. He is not sitting the way you would expect a machine of a man to be sitting. You would have thought the First Guard would sit straight-backed and braced for confrontation, but his slouch is almost insouciant. He sits with his knees apart, his body slanted where his elbow rests on the door. One gloved hand strums the door and the other is draped over his thigh. He looks at you without any expression you can interpret.

You are tired. Your body hurts. Your father is dead and the operation is changing and your only friend is suffering and you can’t do anything about any of it. This morning you held a modicum of control over your life – or you thought you did – and now everything has spiralled.

You know logically that Chan is a victim of Miroh, but right now it does not matter. He is an infuriating figure of composure, not to mention your father’s greatest weapon, and that combination snaps the elastic thread of your patience, already stretched to its limits.

“Take off the fucking mask,” you say.

He stares at you, his expression still unreadable. You are tempted to reach across and rip the mask off his face. You would definitely not succeed, no match for his reflexes on a good day, but logic is inconsequential in the face of your emotions.

He doesn’t test you. He stares for another moment then raises one gloved hand. He unhooks the mask and peels it off. He runs the other hand over his face and through his hair.

You are not sure what you were expecting. The same brown eyes stare back at you, lined with a smudged shadow to look as dark and intimidating as possible. His brows are thick and dark, his hair as black, sweat loosening the slick style so a single curly tuft falls over his forehead.

You follow the slope of his nose down to his mouth. His mouth is closed and he is not smiling. He has full lips, almost too pretty for what he is. Glancing at that mouth on that too-pretty face, you picture a dimple smiled. The memory is almost a blur, a smear of an image over his face. You blink and it’s gone, his stoic face staring back at you.

“What is it?” he says. His voice is like the rest of him, too big in this small space. You swear it shakes the car and the earth under it, though that is ridiculous. It’s just a voice. He’s just a man.

Except he’s not. He’s something else, something that should not have done what he did. You have a million questions. You need those answers before you can continue but it all jumbles together in your head. It’s all too much, the flashes of today, of the past, of an uncertain future full of even more violence.

You finally turn off the engine and get out of the car. You have no intention of going anywhere, but you need space.

You pace in a long line, breathing in and out, using every trick in the book to ease your racing heart. After a minute, you hear the passenger door open. You look over your shoulder at Chan.

You can’t help the instinctive reaction to measure him like an adversary. It doesn’t help he has pummelled you twice in the last few months, not to mention his horrid reputation in an already horrid place. It would be stupid not to brace yourself.

He approaches you cautiously. He has the gall to raise a hand like you are the wild thing and he is the tamer.

“Easy,” he says. His voice is not so booming out here. Other than the dark combat uniform, he almost looks normal, his whole face open to you, eyes narrowed with intense focus.

It makes you breathe harder, the exhale shaky. He notices because he tries to placate you.

He smiles.

It is forced and unpracticed, but there are those dimples, just like you thought. You would have been less startled if he bared his teeth like an animal. The smile unnerves you, undoing all the calming work of your exercises.

“It’s all right,” he says in a frighteningly gentle voice. He tilts his head as he looks at you. “It’s just me, yeah?”

Just him. Like that should comfort you. You suppose you can marginally see things from his perspective, that maybe he has proved himself. After all, he helped you escape. It is obvious he is not doing this for your father or he would not have let you kill him. This is not part of a grand plan. There is no strategy. It’s all over.

It’s just you and him.

It does not comfort you the way he evidently thinks it should. Now is the time to ask those million questions, but you are beyond words. You are a live wire and that pitiful attempt at a truce ignites a flare of angry sparks.

You were built to fight. It punches out of you. Literally.

Chan is faster than you. He dodges your swing with ease, fast as an electric current himself.

“Hey now,” he says, holding out both hands. “Don’t—”

You know you can’t win this fight. You know it’s stupid to try. But each swing flies out of you, instinctive as breathing. He catches every blow, bats your hands out of the way, but he doesn’t swing back. His refusal to fight infuriates you. It makes you feel as helpless as you are.

An aggravated cry spills out of you, a strain behind your eyes as you take another swing.

“Stop it,” he snaps, his smile gone.

He finally goes on the offense, catching your hands and pinning them down. There is a moment of struggle before you feel the driver door at your backside, his body caging you in. You rear up against him but he holds you down, hip to hip, hand to hand.

“I said stop it,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you ask, voice breaking. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your chest is pressed against his, moving with your breath while he stands like an ungiving wall. You glare at him and he stares back. His brow furrows in seeming confusion. He closes both eyes and breathes out, a steadying breath.

You thought seeing him lose composure would make you feel better, but you feel worse, more unnerved than before.

He looks at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering when he clenches it. You stare at it as he releases you.

“You must know I can’t trust you,” you say.

You make the mistake of lifting your hands to shove him away. You do not intend to punch him again, the worst of that aggression gone, but he doesn’t know that. You suppose you can’t blame him for his instincts after your demonstration.

When you lift your hands, he grabs your wrists. Swiftly and effortlessly, he pins your hands by your head.

“Oh,” he says. His eyebrows lift and his face is far more expressive than you expected. “I’m the one who can’t be trusted, right?”

“Excuse me?” you snap.

“I’m doing my job, yeah,” he says. “Yesterday you were running jobs for Daddy and today you shot him dead. Wanna talk about erratic behaviour? Wanna talk about who’s unpredictable? About who can trust who here?”

Your mouth parts with a useless, breathless rebuttal, stammering and empty. You didn’t expect that many words from him, not when he has been a silent shadow for so long. Never mind the easy, casual speech, every colloquialism and the taunting hurl of daddy. It makes you think of that scathing, troublesome boy he once was, as sharp with his tongue as everything else. But he is not that boy. You know for a fact he was broken. He has done all those jobs for Miroh without causing any strife in the operation. He is a weapon and nothing more. He exists to follow orders.

Until today. Until you.

“So?” you finally say, because what else can you say?

“So?” he repeats.

“So.” You have those million questions, but there is only one that really matters. “What are we? Soldiers without a general? Because right now it seems like we’re two people who have no reason to trust each other and no reason to work together.”

Your gazes are locked and you measure each other. Not that you are much of a threat to him. He has you pinned with very little effort. If you were at your fighting best, you like to think it would be a little challenge, but right now you stand no chance against him.

But he doesn’t want to hurt you or he would have done it already.

He drops your hands. He doesn’t step away, still regarding you with that scrutinous eye, but it is a menial demonstration of trust.

You drop your arms. You stare back at him, refusing to show the depth of your weakness. You think his body might be keeping yours upright, your legs so weak. You do everything in your power to keep your wild emotions in check, to keep the tears in the back of your eyes. You breathe deeply.

“I’ll help you find your friend,” Chan says, the last thing you expect him to say. You can only watch as he sighs and speaks. “You were my last mission,” he says. “Miroh told me to bring you in. I did. He wanted me to watch you. I am. He wanted me to be your—” He laughs but it is not a happy sound, dry and devoid of pleasure. “Your bodyguard, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Consider this me following orders,” he says. “That’s what I do, yeah? I follow orders. And I don’t leave a job unfinished. Ever.”

“And Miroh?” you say tentatively. “The fact I killed him?”

He shrugs dramatically, hands open in surrender.

“Miroh didn’t make me his bodyguard,” Chan says. “He made me yours.”

It is such preposterously simple logic that you laugh, a disbelieving bark of a sound. You look around at nothing, like the answer to your ridiculous circumstance is in the trees or the road.

When you look at Chan, he is still looking at you, his brow quirked inquisitively.

“Well?” he says. “Is that enough? Can we work together to finish this last job?”

“Your job,” you say slowly. You meet his eyes. “So that’s what I am to you?”

It’s meant to be an easy question with a reassuring answer. He is a soldier. You are his job. He will do what you ask. It’s as simple as that.

He tilts his head as he looks at you. His contemplation is too heavy. It was a simple question for a simple soldier who should speak no language outside of missions and reports.

His gaze is searing and it makes your heart skip a startled beat.

“Yes,” he says. He speaks the word like it’s exhausting to say out loud. It lands with a thud on an exhale. “My job.”

His forearm is planted by your head. His other hand grips your bicep. He is keeping you in place with his hips and thighs. You can feel the tension in his body.

You have no idea why you do what you do. It comes from the same place as those desperate punches. You know it’s useless, you know nothing will come of it, but you ride the propulsion of adrenaline. Your body, on the brink of desperation, has been pushed to its utmost capabilities in the last couple hours. What does it want? What do you want?

What did you ever really want?

You kiss him.

It shocks you both. Unlike the punch, he does not know how to retaliate. He stands there, breathing into your mouth. He is neither encouraging nor withdrawing.

You stop quickly and wipe your mouth. Mortification sets in.

None of this is like you. You blame stress. Your body is confused and hurt. You need recuperation. Whether you like it or not, you need comfort too. It is a deep internal call, only human. But you won’t be getting that from the solid, inhuman wall around you.

You push at that wall and it finally gives. Chan steps back. You doubt a punch would have moved him so easily as that kiss.

“Ignore that,” you say. “Adrenaline. I’m still – not right.”

He just stares, once more a silent shadow. You breathe out in a huff.

“Okay,” you say. “And we’re back to the staring. At least I know you’re still working.”

You turn to open the car door, effectively ending the tense exchange. Chan walks away. He silently circles the car to reach the passenger door. You look at his face, once more stoic and expressionless. He doesn’t look at you, dropping into the vehicle without another glance or sound.

You close your eyes. You take another deep breath of fresh air.

Maybe this is good. Maybe Chan is the ally you need right now. Someone level, someone only concerned with mission parameters. Someone who will not become compromised because of emotion.

Because you are very compromised.

You are not thinking clearly. You need a plan and some water and rest.

You get in the car. You start the engine. You don’t speak another word.

You drive for hours, wanting distance between you and the destruction.

The silence in the car is piercing, your head aching after the first hour. The little space acts like an echo chamber for your tumultuous thoughts. You keep replaying the day, every death and cry. You think about your security team strewn across those stairs, just another casualty in Miroh’s game. You think about your father, the unplanned murder but the utter lack of regret in your heart.

You think about Changbin. Your reckless side wants to look for him right now. You cannot stand to waste another second. Based on your father’s words, he could be anywhere, subject to any number of horrors. But despite the whirlwind tempest of your mind, there is a soldier inside you and she is more pragmatic. You are in no condition to fight. Even if you knew Changbin’s exact location, you would be no use to him. You need to rest, formulate a legitimate plan, then attack.

You can’t afford to make any mistakes. Better than anyone, you know the forces you are up against.

You pull into a highway fill-up station at dusk. The car needs fuel and so do you. There is a little shop near the fuel pumps, the place deserted other than the bored cashier behind the counter.

There was some cash in the glove box, enough for necessities. You will inevitably need to steal or manipulate, but you prefer to lay low tonight. You were careful to avoid traffic cameras and security tv as you exited the previous city. By the time the car is reported and Miroh’s operation works out your connection, you will be off the grid.

You turn off the engine and reach for the wallet. Chan snatches it first.

“What are you doing?” is spoken in unison.

“I’m going to buy us some fucking water and food,” you say.

“Are you? Really?” He gives you a pointed up-and-down look. “You gonna do that looking like you just played cannonball with a cement wall?”

You have not gotten a good look at yourself, just a flash in the rearview mirror, but he is probably right. You feel like utter shit so you must look it too.

“Well, you can’t go in there either,” you say. Even without the mask, he is clearly in an unusual uniform. A bored clerk will remember a terrifying soldier in combat clothes marching through his shop.

Chan flashes you a dimpled smile, frighteningly charming.

“Sure I can,” he says. “Just have to blend in.”

Your eyes widen as he discards both gloves then opens the neck of his shirt. You stare as he efficiently strips off his top layers.

If he looked powerful in the uniform, he looks as just as intimidating without it. He doesn’t boast gargantuan proportions but he doesn’t need it. There is lethal strength to the rolling musculature of his sturdy body.

You shouldn’t care. Soldiers strip all the time, long assignments and shared compartments making it an inevitability. But Chan is not just another soldier. In your head, he is that living shadow, covered all the way up to his eyes in the Miroh black and blue. Seeing all that skin is a startling reminder of the man under the mask.

You find Chan watching you, amused. That stupid eyebrow is quirked again.

“What?” you snap.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Be right back. Don’t miss me too bad.”

You roll your eyes, slumping in your seat as he gets out of the car. You have half a mind to drive away but you are pretty sure he would find a way to manifest at your destination anyway.

You watch as he enters the shop in a nonchalant stroll, wearing just his pants and boots. He waves at the cashier and says something that makes him laugh.

To his credit, Chan looks like a regular guy on a hot day, casually perusing a gas station shop. He makes small talk with the cashier and they laugh some more.

You knew Chan was a good soldier but you didn’t expect him to be such a good agent too. He is probably better at the civilian act than you. You are standoffish and opt for a quiet demeanour, blending in through invisibility rather than a persona.

Chan walks in and out, the cashier unaware of the nature of his customer. You return to the road with a full of tank of gas and some sustenance.

“Are you going to put your shirt back on?” you ask.

He gives you a side-eye as he shrugs the outermost layer back on. He doesn’t do it up. You refuse to act like a glimpse of his bare chest means anything to you.

Except it does. When he sits there with his knee against the console and his skin showing and a tuft of hair over his forehead, he looks like a person. He is a person, one who has been subject to some of the worst horrors of Miroh’s operation.

There is no denying Chan is a complicated figure, unwillingly complicit in atrocities. He acts like a normal person with a fully cognizant mind, but you just witnessed for yourself how easily he can fake that. You do not know how much of the real Bang Chan is actually inside him.

“Chan,” you say after a long time. The sun has almost fully set, the sky in its navy gloaming.

“Yeah?” he says.

There are no words that suffice. You could give an entire speech and it would be virtually meaningless.

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaving the breadth of the apology up to his interpretation. You keep your eyes on the endless miles of highway that stretch ahead. There is a long journey in front of you. There is a longer road behind you.

The car is illuminated with golden light from passing cars and overhead lamps. It flashes over his face in the deepening darkness.

“Don’t be,” Chan says. He crosses his arms in a protective position, looking out his window though there is nothing to see but the highway and passing cars. “None of this was your fault,” he says.

You laugh, a similar humourless sound to his earlier laughter.

“That’s not entirely true,” you say, thinking of all the missions you deliberately ran for Miroh. You thought you could make it mean something. You were just like your father, believing the ends would justify the means. You never tortured Chan yourself, but you were part of the operation that kept him in chains. There was nothing you could do to save him, but you certainly never tried.

He looks at you. You hear him move, the crinkle of his clothes, the water bottle he twists in his grip.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” he says. “Seriously. Today was crazy. Everything’s crazy. You’re not responsible for it.”

“I’m not not responsible,” you say. “My team is dead. My friend is gone. My dad – well, you can’t say I didn’t do that.”

“He had that one coming,” Chan says, his laugh a little more real. “No offense, but your dad kinda sucked.”

You find yourself laughing more genuinely too.

“Yeah,” you say. “I think we can agree on that.”

You fall into silence but it is more comfortable than before. There has been an undeniable tension since the moment he climbed in this car, looking at you with questioning confusion as you pointed a gun at him. You were panicking but he must have been equally bewildered. To him, you were a mission. He lives by his orders.

“I should apologize to you,” he says.

You look at him with obvious surprise. He meets your gaze, his expression sincere if not a little chagrined. His dimples show with a faint smile but it is not very happy.

“I’ve been an ass,” he says. “Today was – well.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Trust me,” you say. You try to lighten the mood with your tone. “I’m a Miroh. You will never have to apologize to me for as long as you live.”

He doesn’t laugh or even force that pretend sound. He stares ahead, his gaze sorrowful and faraway.

“Sorry, that was—” you begin.

He forces a smile and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Truce?”

Smiling feels awkward and your injuries probably make you a terrifying sight. But he accepts it, nodding at you. The car does not feel like such a claustrophobic space after that. The air is clear as it can be, considering who you are.

Neither of you has an identity right now. You were tethered to the same monstrosity and now it is gone. Everything is different.

You are too tired for another late-night heart-to-heart. It is time for rest.

There is enough cash for a cheap motel room. You find a quiet inn off the highway, sequestered beyond trees and countryside fields. You finally look at yourself properly in the bathroom mirror. You decide Chan’s earlier remarks were a severe understatement. You look like a battleground more than a soldier.

You injures will repair themselves with time, but it is a grisly sight. You shower for now. The soap and water helps.

You don the same shirt and underwear. New clothes will be a necessity. You mentally plan tomorrow, everything you will need to accrue before you formulate an attack. You have already mentally plotted the closest facilities, but you will need to verify their function and security protocol before striking.

You are mentally strategize as you exit the bathroom. You are distracted, thinking nothing of the fact you are wearing underwear and a shirt.

Chan already showered because you insisted, knowing you would take longer with your injuries. He is sitting on one of the single beds, sorting through his weapons. There is the gun you stole from Miroh plus his own array of armaments, things so well hidden you did not realize he even had them. They are laid out on the bed. He sits at the foot in his combat pants and nothing else, his dark hair damp and face bare.

You stroll past him, feeling his eyes as they lift from a gun to your bare legs. Now that you have scrubbed the worst of the brutality from your body, you feel like something of a person again. His flicker of attention ignites an undeniable spark in your belly. At first, it startles you, because the First Guard is the absolute last person you should ever think of like that.

But then you look at him. He has turned his eyes back to his work, saying nothing as he reloads the gun with second-nature efficiency. He is holding a weapon but, despite his conditioning, he is just a man.

You are a grounded person. You keep your head down and go about your tasks with confident certainty. He is here, you are here, it has been a long day, and it is not unusual for soldiers to seek comfort before the dawn of a new fight. Comfort is as important in healing and recuperation as anything else.

You sit on your own bed and look at him. He is effortlessly attractive with his dark hair and dark eyes, the sloping muscle of his firm body. You trace his chest and abdomen with your eyes. He does not lift his gaze, his attention on the gun.

“Do you want to fuck?” you ask.

Bang Chan is the best soldier in the force. You are pretty sure he has never fumbled a weapon quite so spectacularly. It clatters to the floor and he kicks it under your bed.

“What!” he says. He doesn’t look at you as he retrieves the gun, laughing a comically nervous giggle. “Um… what?” he asks again. Before you can answer, he shakes his head. “That’s uh, wait. Um. No. Bad idea, right? I mean—”

“It’s just a suggestion,” you say, not really offended. “It’s been a long day. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both adults here.”

As you say it, you consider his circumstances. Chan has spent his entire life in the house of Miroh. He is not innocent but he might be inexperienced. This man has killed dozens of people and worked dozens of dangerous operations. His body is built for violence, not pleasure, and certainly not his own.

You find yourself blurting, “Have you ever…?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, brow furrowing with annoyance.

“All right, all right, just asking,” you say. You decide not to push the topic because it clearly makes him uncomfortable. You just cleared the air and you don’t want to muddy it again.

You change the topic swiftly. You make some empty remark about the weather as you turn on the small television. It’s an old contraption, buzzing with static as it flickers to life.

Chan resumes his work. He puts his head down to concentrate.

Your gaze inevitably strays to him.

His hair dries curly. It feels like an unusual thing to know about the First Guard. He looks so much younger with a clean face.

You jump when that face lifts. He looks at you.

“It wasn’t… you know…” There is a hunch to his shoulders, his eyes dropping to his work. “I just did it on missions, ya know?”

“Did it,” you say. “On missions.” It doesn’t register right away, partly because you are tired and partly because you did not expect him to continue this conversation. “You mean sex?” you ask. “You had sex on missions?”

“I had sex for missions,” he corrects, eyes on the weapon he is disassembling. He is acting like the conversation is meaningless, his attention divided, but you know his task does not require that degree of concentration. He could take that thing apart in perfect darkness.

“For missions,” you repeat. “What, like a honeypot type scheme? You?”

It seems ridiculous at first. You picture the First Guard smashing through windows and tackling you in stairwells. There is nothing seductive about that raw violence. But then you look at the man in front of you, young and handsome, the one who so easily charmed that cashier while pretending he was someone else. You picture him in a suit and tie, maybe a t-shirt and jeans. He would be devastating with the right preparation.

Chan is the best. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you he would excel regardless of the scheme.

“Something like that,” he says. He finally loads the magazine. “It wasn’t so bad, though. Seriously.” He twirls the gun with an effortless flourish. The grip finds his palm like the pistol is a part of him. “Trust me. My body was used for worse things. You get that too, yeah?”

You suppose you relate well enough. You were raised in the same program, put through the same grueling regimen. You have done things and you are not proud of them all. Your circumstances are not the same, though. You are each uniquely situated in your positions, even if you started in the same place.

We’re all that’s left.

Changbin’s voice in your head causes your mind to drift.

“What about you?” Chan asks, drawing you back to the conversation.

“Me?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “You.”

The First Guard is asking you about your sex life. You woke this morning in a safe house and put on combat gear, ready for another mundane day of field work. Somewhere in the middle of that was a cascade of violence. Now Bang Chan is asking about your sexual proclivities. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would laugh.

“I mean, nothing special,” you say, sufficing for the boring truth. “Mostly just this. Sex doesn’t really mean anything to me. It’s like exercise. Long nights on a job. You know. Fellow soldiers on a mission. Sometimes a civilian hook-up.”

You can’t parse the expression on his face. His gaze is somewhat judgemental, or maybe it is just scrutinizing, intensely focussed. It bristles your nerves. Your tone is more derisive when you say, “I’m not a romantic.” You hold his intense stare in your own. “Sex is just a bodily function to me. Sometimes the body needs the release or the pleasure or whatever, so I satisfy it and move on. That’s who I am. I work. I get the job done. That’s what I have always done.”

What you always did. You are not sure how to describe yourself anymore. You nonetheless punctuate that definitive statement. You assume that is the end of the conversation.

Then Chan asks, “So there’s… no one… for you?”

If he was any other soldier, you would think he was angling for flirtation, but he just turned down your very blatant offer. You do not know why he has any motivation to ask such personal and irrelevant questions.

It is not worth the argument. You conclude with a simple, “No.”

He nods, rocking his whole body with the force of his too-casual gesture. The tips of his ears are red, though your gaze does not stay there. You are quickly distracted by his bicep. He lifts an arm to rub the back of his neck, muscles softly rippling. His brazen questioning coupled with his awkward shyness is incongruous.

You think it is unlikely you will ever understand this man. He has been taken apart and put back together too many times. Fragments of him seem to fire all at once and in great contradiction.

“What about Changbin?” he asks. “He must be pretty special to you. Ya know, for you to have done all this for him.”

You are simultaneously struck by repulsion and sentiment. Changbin is very special and you regret not realizing it sooner. He has always been at your side, taking hits to protect you well before he became your bodyguard. He is the person who kept you smiling. You understood each other on a different level. His friendship was a rare gift and you took it for granted. Now you would do anything to have it back.

But also…

It’s Changbin. Ew. You are an only child but you feel a brotherly affection for him. Picturing him in any other context is nauseating. It just feels wrong.

You have such a visceral reaction of disgust that Chan laughs. He puts up his hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he says. “Just friends, then?”

“Yes,” you say. “Though there’s nothing just about it.”

You have replayed that rooftop exchange a hundred times, torturing yourself with every possible outcome. If only you did this, if only he did that. You rearrange every second, trying to find a version with a different ending.

You wonder how he will react when he finds out what you did. Aha, murder princess living up to her name! he might say. The old man should have seen it coming. I knew you could it, but of course I did. I’m so much smarter and better looking than everyone else here.

You smile at the idea but it fades quickly.

Changbin was with you last night. He was sitting within arm’s reach, his scar under your fingertips. Now he could be anywhere and it’s all your fault. Not just because of the rooftop mistakes, but because of every mistake you made before that.

You exhale. Your shoulders shake. Chan watches you close a fist around a pillow.

“You all right?” he asks.

“I’m ending it,” you say.

“Sorry, what?”

“I always thought Miroh was an inevitability.” You are speaking out loud but mostly to yourself. Your gaze is fixed on some distant point, your mind and heart miles away. “But he wasn’t,” you say. “No more soldiers. No more experiments. No more bribes and theft and terror. My father is dead and I am going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I am going to make sure his work dies with him.”

You look at Chan. A day ago, you both existed for Miroh. Now you are two people planning to dismantle an empire from a motel room and a stolen car.

“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask.

A part of you is braced for the worst, that he will reject it, that he will revert to some kind of conditioned programming and drag you back to a facility for condemnation.

Even while you think it, you know it won’t happen. The eyes staring back at you are as clear as your own.

“I’m just the bodyguard,” Chan says. “I go wherever you go. Always.”

You feel invigorated to start now, but you are tired beneath the burst of adrenaline. You need to let your body heal.

The room is dark and you doze in the light of the television. After a couple hours, you roll over and find Chan is still awake. He is laying on his bed, arms crossed and eyes open. He is watching the shopping channel, ad after ad after ad, with far more intensity than it merits. His mind must be somewhere else. You can only imagine what he is thinking about.

You wonder how much he knows about himself. He responded to your half-coherent treasonous pleading. Does he remember hating Miroh? Or is he truly only helping you because of mission parameters?

It is easy to forget when he is a bare-faced, curly-haired young man slouching in a motel bed, but Bang Chan is lethally competent. He knew all of Miroh’s innermost schemes. It will come in handy now, but it makes him an irrevocably dark character, whether it was willing or not.

You wonder how much Changbin would trust him.

Wait.

You were so distracted with your plans, you did not question a moment in your conversation.

Chan mentioned Changbin.

You never told Chan the identity of your friend. When you were pleading with him, you just called him a friend.

Maybe Chan heard you talking to your father. Maybe he knows about your relationships because that was his job. Maybe he just guessed because Changbin volunteered himself in the ring.

Maybe Bang Chan remembers more than he is letting on.

You fall asleep to the soft drone of the television. Your mind is walking in circles and you dream of similar rings. Nightmares of chrome cages and steel traps, a suffocating helplessness squeezing your ribcage.

In your dreams, the room fills with smoke, a charcoal smog that chokes you as quickly as the compression on your chest. You look down but you can’t see your body, only feel it. Your invisible body struggles against invisible bindings. You gasp for breath.

Your father appears. It is him holding you down, a heavy hand in the middle of your chest. You cry out. You want to move but your body is trapped.

You close your eyes. When you open them, Changbin is there. He is still a teenager. His head is bleeding – why is his head bleeding? – but he wipes the blood as if it’s nothing more than sweat, all his focus on you.

Of course it is. He’s your friend. He’s here to save you. How did you not see it before? It’s like you have been moving through the world in a fog, the same grey smoke that envelopes you now. His face is the only clear image, gawky with youth but alive and real.

The weight is lifted off your chest. Black spots swarm your vision as you suck in a lungful of air.

When you look again, Changbin is grown. He looks like he did a day ago, dark bangs in his eyes, stocky build ready for a fight.

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

Not leaving here.

His voices dances around you. You are trapped in your body, a screaming, shrieking force, watching through dead eyes as the world spins. People pass but they don’t hear you. You try to reach for someone but your body doesn’t respond to your thoughts.

A labyrinthine stretch of road unfurls then disappears. You are standing in the infirmary at the main facility. You stare at yourself, the younger version of you. You are already dead behind the eyes, resigned to your situation. There are masked doctors around you. A tray full of needles. You watch as the long point penetrates your skin. You’re just a child, arm so small in comparison.

Your child face contorts with pain, an expression your adult face cannot mimic because you cannot control your face.

You remember the pain, even if you cannot cry. It was like nothing you had ever felt. The pain meant it was working. The medicant was only administered to you when it had been thoroughly tested. The first injection killed every subject except one. The second program was a success.

The children were writhing in pain for weeks, screaming and crying, begging for parents that never came. Yours did, looming over your bedside, touching your feverish forehead and speaking through the fog of pain.

An investment, Miroh called it. You’ll thank me one day.

Changbin is there. He is a child too. They put a needle in his skinny arm. He winces but he doesn’t cry. He isn’t scared of the needles or the pain, but he isn’t eager either. He is just there, his head down.

You blink and he is grown. The needle is still in his arm, only it is not an injection but an extraction. You watch the fullness of his face wither. They are taking too much. He becomes a child again, screaming in pain.

The same pain moves inside you.

No, worse.

Worse.

You never could have imagined a worse pain. It courses through your whole body, peeling apart your insides while you lay there, helpless, watching.

Your father stands over you. You’ll thank me one day.

He disappears. For a flickering moment, you see Bang Chan. Curly-haired, dimpled cheeks. He stutters and shakes like a bad film projection. His face contorts, changes. Wide dark eyes stare at you, his face covered in rain – water – tears? Pouring down his cheeks, mouth open and a mute cry in the grey.

You want to touch him but you cannot move. His face flickers again. You feel a tiny, infinitesimal twitch in your pinky.

Then he disappears altogether. Your father is there. He grabs you by the shoulders and slams you down, straight through the earth, holding you there in the darkness where no one can find you and you cannot move.

“Hey—” comes a voice, somehow reaching you in the depths of that pit. “Hey, hey, hey, wake up.”

In your dream, your father shoves you.

In reality, you are thrashing in a motel bed.

It takes a minute to realize you are awake, that everything was just a terrible dream. Your adrenaline is a white hot heat in your chest, your voice a strangled shriek as you clamour around the twisting sheets.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Chan says. “You’re just dreaming, whoa, easy, c’mon… It’s all good. Easy now. Breathe for me, okay?”

It feels like your first breath in years. It goes down shaky, your vision blurry. You realize Chan is holding your wrist, lightly but carefully. You blink up at him. He turned on the bedside light at some point. Half his face is lit in gold as he looks at you with concern. It is such a strange expression to see on him. These were the same eyes glaring at you over that uniform mask. Now that brow is pinched with worry, his own breath a staggered thing.

“You all right?” he asks.

You are sitting upright. You look at your wrist in his hand.

“Did I try to punch you again?” you ask.

“You missed,” he says, smiling. Then he shakes his head and says more seriously, “It was my fault. You were yelling in your sleep so I woke you up. I guess it was too fast or something. Just, you know, I don’t think the walls are very thick here.”

“Right,” you say. Your heart is still stampeding. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he says. “You… you good…?”

“Yeah,” you say. You are too weary for patience, so sarcasm spills out of you. “Peachy.”

He opens his mouth but you don’t wait to hear it. You slide out of bed and land on shaky legs. Your whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat. You want to shower, wash away the nightmare and the terror.

You are a light sleeper. You never dream like that. It is a testament to your exhaustion that you fell into such a deep sleep.

You tell yourself it was a dream, but your reassurances don’t work. Because it wasn’t really a dream, was it? It was flashes of real moments, real faces, real pain.

You stand under steady stream of hot water. You watch as the heat and the torrent opens a few scrapes, the water at your feet turning red. You think of Changbin with a needle in his arm, all that red pouring out of him. Standing there, helpless to do anything, like you are right now.

You have no idea where he is. You look at the scar on your palm and think of him in the moonlight, him in the ring, him at your side. A smile, a joke, a reassurance. A hand in yours, a promise.

He knew you better than you know yourself. He predicted this exact crisis of identity.

When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…

He drew that line across his palm. You picture a chasm of a wound, gaping and red, rushing red at your feet.

Just remember me, he said. I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.

True to his word, a man of principle to the end, he is bleeding for you right now.

In all your years of training, fighting, and soldiership, of missions and schemes, tricks and plots, you have always kept composure. Now it all weighs on you at once, every single second of your life, and it’s too much.

When was the last time you cried? You can’t even remember. It pours out of you now, big ugly gasping sobs that spill into the shower. You sit down where the water is pooling in pink. You wrap your arms around your legs and draw them up to your chest like a child.

You do not know how long you sit there, crying until it feels like there is no more water left in your body. It must be a long time because the water runs from hot to lukewarm. It feels strange to heave dry sobs with the shower still pouring down on you.

The water abruptly stops. You lift your head.

Chan stands there. He doesn’t look at you directly, his expression solemn, but he turns off the water and gets you a towel.

It feels surreal. Bang Chan is moving around a small motel bathroom, helping you like he has helped you all day. You stare at him with scrunched, sore eyes, your throat too strained to speak. You drop your legs and let him wrap the towel around you. Your heart kicks with momentary fright when he scoops you up, an effortless sweep.

No one has ever done something like this for you. You wouldn’t have let them, even if they tried.

You need it. You never realized how much you needed it. You are certain you will feel embarrassed in the morning, but right now you put your arms around his neck and cling for dear life.

He says nothing. He hooks an arm around your back and the other under your legs. He carries you back into the room and lays you in your bed, adjusting the towel for your modesty before pulling the blankets over you.

You continue to sputter and hiccup, looking at him as he moves. You wonder if he looks like this on a mission, determined and swift.

No. The First Guard wouldn’t fix the pillows under your head. He wouldn’t tuck the blankets around you.

Bang Chan stands over you, wearing nothing but his combat pants, no weapons or masks or piercing stares. He has curly dark hair and a soft face. When you touch his bare shoulder, he looks at you with a heart-shattering amount of tenderness. You didn’t know anyone could look at somebody that way, never mind him, never mind at you.

There’s a person inside him. There’s a person inside you. You don’t know who either of those people are, but you want to know. You need to know.

You curl your hand into a fist and feel the scar on your palm. A day ago, none of this would have mattered, but you know why it matters now.

“We have to find him,” you say. Your rasping voice is barely above a whisper.

Chan slowly cups his hand over yours, his palm to your knuckles, holding your touch against his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers. He nods.

“We will,” he says.

“You’ll help me?” you say.

“Yeah.” His own voice is a rasp, skirting the edge of emotion too. He swallows it down and smiles at you. “Like I said. I go wherever you go. Always.”

He sits with you in the soft golden light of that small bedside lamp. You do not think you can sleep again, but then exhaustion settles over you.

You are on the cusp of sleep when he touches your forehead. Your eyes meet briefly. It wakes you with a heart flutter, similar to a dream that drops you into reality. It is the heart-racing thump of a sudden fall. The kind that feels so real, more like a memory than a dream.

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