#planning the trees is gonna be... .something else | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joemama-2 · 2 months ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 15.9k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation

a/n: was gonna post another sneak peek, but thought the entire chapter would be better :) as always, pls let me know of any typos

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

It’s a nice, warm morning. The sun’s out, there’s birds chirping, and a small breeze that feels lovely against the skin. And the best part of it all is that Hana called in sick today. Her now boyfriend, Naoya, reassured her everything would be alright and that he had an entire day planned out for just them two. Being taken care of by another person was a new feeling to Hana, one she hadn’t experienced since her last boyfriend.

She’s never been with a rich man before. And she’s especially never been to an upscale golf course, wearing a tight, sleeveless top with an even tighter little skirt. Naoya is in his stance a few feet in front of her, club in hand as he readies his shot. She can’t help but feel slightly out of place.

The brightness of the day feels almost surreal to Hana, like she’s stumbled into someone else’s life. The manicured grass stretches endlessly before her, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of freshly cut greens, mixed with faint hints of expensive cologne, clings to the air. She fiddles with the hem of her skirt, feeling self-conscious even though Naoya hadn’t once looked at her with anything less than approval since they arrived.

Naoya stands confidently, the sunlight catching the sleek fabric of his polo as he lines up his shot. His form is perfect, practiced—a natural at this, just like everything else in his life. He’s effortless in a way that makes Hana’s chest ache with something she can’t name. Admiration, maybe. Longing. Envy. She doesn’t know.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to stick out like a sore thumb. The outfit he bought her might make her look the part, but internally, she feels worlds apart from the other women here. Women with polished nails, designer sunglasses, and easy smiles born from years of moving through places like this without a second thought. Hana crosses her arms, squinting against the sun. She watches Naoya swing, sending the ball sailing with a crisp, clean sound that echoes across the open course. He turns back toward her with a wide, satisfied smile, the cockiness in his expression unmistakable.

“You’re up, babe,” he calls out, motioning her forward.

Babe.

The word feels strange, too, curling around her heart like a new pair of shoes she hasn’t broken in yet. It’s sweet, almost nauseatingly so, and it makes her feel dizzy, like maybe she could get used to this if she let herself.

Gathering her nerves, she steps forward, clumsily taking the club he offers her. Their fingers brush, and Naoya chuckles under his breath, stepping closer to adjust her grip. His hands are warm, firm, guiding her in a way that’s both helpful and possessive.

“Relax,” he murmurs near her ear. “You’re too stiff. Golf’s supposed to be fun.”

Easy for you to say. Everything about today, about him, about this life, feels so far out of reach for someone like her. But she forces a smile, tightens her fingers around the club, and lets him guide her swing. Even if she feels completely out of place, there’s a small, stubborn part of her that wants to fit. To belong.

Maybe, if she fakes it long enough, she eventually will.

“Ah, so close,” Naoya sighs, watching the tiny white ball miss its hole, veering way off to the right. “You would think you’d be a little better after watching me all this time.”

“I—sorry.” She scratches the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves her off, calling down the cart girl. Hana follows him as they approach the wide selection of cooled drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic.

“Hi, Naoya. What can I get for ‘ya today?” The blonde woman manning the cart asks, a smile on her pink lips. She tilts her head, regarding him with familiarity.

Naoya barely spares her a glance, his attention more focused on the line of bottles glistening under the sun. “The usual,” he says smoothly, reaching for his wallet without hesitation.

The cart girl giggles, a light, practiced sound that makes Hana’s stomach twist ever so slightly. She’s seen that look before, the way the girl leans just a little closer than necessary, the way her hand lingers when she passes Naoya the drink. It’s casual. Too casual.

Hana steps back instinctively, feeling like she’s intruding on something she wasn’t invited to witness. She folds her arms loosely across her chest, trying not to fidget, trying not to let the sudden sourness in her mouth show on her face.

“You’re looking good today,” the cart girl adds with a wink, handing Naoya a cold can.

He finally looks at her, flashing a charming smirk, the same one Hana had thought was just for her. “Yeah? Must be the company.” He says it without thinking, tossing a glance over his shoulder at Hana, almost like an afterthought.

The cart girl’s eyes follow his, her smile faltering for just a second when she realizes Hana’s standing there. Her gaze flicks back and forth between them, assessing, judging, maybe even pitying. Hana isn’t sure which would be worse.

Naoya tosses some cash onto the cart’s counter, far more than necessary for just a drink, and motions for Hana to follow him again. She does, but the small crack left behind by the encounter digs deep into her chest. As they climb back into his own golf cart, Naoya takes a swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t mind her,” he says casually, like he can sense her unease. “She flirts with everyone who’s got money. It’s nothing personal.”

Hana forces a small laugh, nodding like she believes him.

But deep down, a quiet voice whispers:

It’s not nothing to you, though.

And that’s what matters.

Naoya revs the cart up again, speeding toward the next hole, completely unaware—or maybe just uncaring of the way Hana sits a little stiffer beside him now, the sun suddenly feeling a little too hot on her skin.

“So,” he speaks up, causing Hana’s head to turn toward him. “You and bestie still not speaking?”

The mention of you causes her to stiffen, a frown forming on her lips. She scoffs. “No. And I don’t plan on it.”

“Shame, thought you said you guys were good friends.”

“We were, until she started changing when that…that asshole came in her life.”

Naoya hums, stopping the cart at the next destination. He doesn’t get out immediately, instead letting the engine idle while he leans back lazily against the seat, his hand casually resting on the steering wheel. His eyes, however, are sharp and calculating as he watches Hana’s face carefully.

“Guess that’s what money and status do to people, huh?” he says, a little too lightheartedly. “Especially when it’s someone like Satoru Gojo.” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, a slow, rhythmic beat. “Big name. Big wallet. Big ego.”

Hana huffs, crossing her arms and looking away toward the sprawling green of the course. “He ruined her,” she mutters bitterly. “She’s not the same person anymore. Everything’s about him now, about his life, his rules. Like she doesn’t even think for herself anymore.”

Naoya lets her words hang between them for a moment, pretending to be focused on something off in the distance. When he speaks again, his tone is almost lazy, casual almost. “You know…” he starts, drawing out the thought like it just occurred to him, “people like him… they don’t change for anyone. And they don’t really let anyone get close unless there’s something they can use.”

Hana furrows her brows, turning to look at him again.

Naoya catches her glance and shrugs innocently. “Just saying,” he continues. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s caught up in something way bigger than she realizes. Maybe even something that could end badly for her if she’s not careful.” He gives a small, knowing smirk, like he’s letting her in on some forbidden secret, like he’s doing her a favor. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re not mixed up in all that,” he adds smoothly. “But…” He trails off, feigning hesitation before flashing her a boyish grin. “You probably know more about what’s going on with them than anyone else, huh? Even if you’re not talking to her anymore.”

Hana shifts uncomfortably. She does know a lot, or at least, she used to.

And despite the way things ended between you two, there’s a bitter part of her that still wants to talk about it. Wants to air out the injustice she feels. Wants someone—anyone—to understand how wrong it all was. Naoya picks up on her hesitation immediately and presses just a little further, voice dropping to something more coaxing.

“Come on, Hana. You can trust me. You know I’m on your side.” He leans in slightly, eyes locking with hers, that charming smile never once faltering. “I’m just curious,” he murmurs, “about how deep she is with the Gojo group. About what Satoru’s really after. That’s all.”

He says it so sweetly, like it’s harmless. Like it’s just friendly concern. But beneath it all, Hana can’t shake the feeling that there’s a lot more riding on her answer than he’s letting on.

“I…I don’t know.” She admits, shrugging lightly. “I mean, they have a kid. I don’t see why else they’d still need to be close. She used to tell me when I first met her that she’d never go back to her ex, but that was before I knew who he was.”

Naoya listens intently, his expression carefully neutral, but his mind is already calculating the information. He nods slowly, leaning back slightly as if he’s processing her words, but really, he’s already piecing everything together. “Hm.” He hums thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the cart. “I guess when you throw a kid into the mix, things change. But… I don’t know, Hana. That just sounds a little too clean, don’t you think?” He tilts his head slightly, feigning curiosity. “The way she acted before, all that ‘never going back’ talk… Do you really believe she’d just… forget about him, that easily? People like Satoru, they don’t let things go so easily. Not when they have so much to gain.”

He watches her closely, gauging her reaction to the way he phrases it.

“You sure she’s not just… saying that? Or maybe she’s in deeper than she lets on?”

Hana shifts slightly, clearly torn. She’s not sure if she should give him more, but something about the way Naoya talks makes her feel like he already knows more than she does, as if he’s playing her like a pawn and she’s too distracted by her anger to realize it. “I don’t know,” she says again, voice quieter this time, her uncertainty growing. “I mean, you’re right. I’m not sure. She told me everything was over, but she… she’s always been so secretive about him. Like there’s something she’s hiding. I don’t think it’s just the kid, you know? There’s more. But she wouldn’t talk about it.”

Naoya’s eyes glint with barely-contained satisfaction, his hand moving casually to pick up his drink from the cup holder. He takes a slow sip before speaking again, voice smooth and coaxing. “Right, that makes sense. There’s always something people like her hide. But…” He pauses, letting the words linger. “If you really want to help her—if you care about her at all—you should let me know what’s going on. People like Satoru don’t play fair, and your friend might be in way deeper than she thinks. I’m not trying to pressure you, but if you know anything that could help… It could keep her out of something she can’t get out of.”

The words are wrapped in a thin layer of concern, but the underlying message is clear: if she doesn’t give him more, he might just find another way to get it. Hana feels a slight shiver of unease crawling up her spine, but she doesn’t know why, not completely. Part of her still wants to trust Naoya, but the other part is beginning to feel like there’s something more to this conversation than meets the eye.

“So, what do you think?” Naoya presses, his smile gentle but determined. “Think you could tell me a little more? For her sake, of course.”

She racks her mind, biting at her lip in thought. Scratching her head. Pulled between two sides of wanting to keep her friend’s privacy, but also wanting to please the man who’s been giving her so much and more. Sure, he has his mistakes, but so does she. So does everyone. So do you.

“I…I don’t know.” She mutters.

Naoya’s smile falters, assessing her for a few silent seconds before humming and getting out of the cart. He stretches lazily, the sun casting a soft glow over his sharp features as he plants the club into the ground and leans on it. His stance is casual, almost careless, but Hana can feel the shift in his energy, a subtle coolness creeping into the air between them.

“That’s alright.” Naoya shrugs, tossing a look over his shoulder at her. “Take your time. Not like I’m in a rush.”

But his tone says otherwise, the underlying warning barely concealed. He straightens up, walking a few steps to the edge of the green, surveying the course as if the conversation hadn’t just taken a turn. Hana stays seated in the cart, her hands worrying the hem of her little skirt, heart thudding against her chest. She knows better. She knows she shouldn’t be entertaining this. She shouldn’t even be thinking about sharing anything about you. You were her friend first—her best friend.

But then she thinks about the nights Naoya spoils her with expensive dinners. About the shopping trips. The way he says she’s beautiful, special, that he sees something in her that no one else does.

Maybe it’s not so bad to share a little.

Maybe it’s just harmless.

And maybe… just maybe… you deserved a little karma anyway, after abandoning her.

She steps out of the cart, heels clicking lightly on the concrete path as she makes her way toward him. Naoya glances back, smiling a little, patient, expectant. “I…I really think it’s more of a custody thing. That’s just my speculation.”

Naoya lets out a small, amused hum, twirling the golf club between his fingers before planting it back down again, leaning into it with casual grace. “Custody, huh?” he echoes, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Interesting.”

His words are light, but Hana can feel the weight behind them. The air shifts again, the easygoing summer breeze suddenly feeling less refreshing and more suffocating.

She nods quickly, as if to justify herself. “Y-Yeah. I mean… it makes sense, doesn’t it? They had a kid young. There’s probably no formal agreement. She hid him for years. She would always vent to me about stuff like her rent, paying for food, and clothes for Koji. Stuff like that.”

Naoya nods thoughtfully, the club tapping lightly against the grass as he watches the horizon. But Hana knows he’s really paying close attention to her every word. “Hm. Sounds like she didn’t have much support,” he muses casually. “Even though she had family money. Or… used to, right?”

Hana shifts uncomfortably, casting her eyes down at her feet. She shouldn’t be saying anything. She knows it. And yet—

“She doesn’t really… talk to her family anymore,” she mutters. “Or, I guess, they don’t talk to her.”

Naoya finally turns fully toward her now, the sun catching in his sharp eyes. He smiles, soft and indulgent, but Hana can sense the calculation behind it. “She sounds like someone who’s good at burning bridges,” he says lightly, almost jokingly. “Even the ones she might need later.”

Hana shrinks a little under the remark, guilt coiling in her stomach. Still, she doesn’t correct him. Maybe because some bitter part of her agrees. Or because it feels easier than defending someone who left her behind.

“You said she hid the kid for years?” Naoya presses, like he’s just casually connecting dots. “Why do you think she finally told him?”

Hana hesitates, nervously twisting her fingers in the fabric of her skirt again. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “She didn’t tell me how exactly he found out, either. But maybe she needed help? I mean… being a single mom is expensive. Maybe she got desperate. Or maybe he found out and forced her hand. I don’t know.”

Naoya’s smile widens a fraction, so small it’s almost imperceptible. “Right,” he says smoothly. “Makes sense. Desperation’ll make people do funny things.” He straightens, brushing invisible dust off his tailored pants, the polished image of someone who already has everything he wants, or knows exactly how to get it.

Hana looks at him, feeling small and a little stupid under the weight of what she’s just admitted, but Naoya only chuckles, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice soft. “You’re not betraying anyone. You’re just telling me what you already know.”

And Hana, desperately wanting to believe it, lets herself relax as Naoya pulls her closer, delivering a soft kiss to her cheek. “C’mon, let’s finish up here. We can get some lunch, hit up the mall, buy something pretty for you. You like that?”

And Hana nods, smiling shyly. “Yeah, I like that.”

“I don’t know if I trust your parents picking Koji up.”

Satoru glances at you as he finds a parking spot, brows knitting before he reverses back. “Why not? You’ll be in the interview and I have to run some stuff back ahh the office. They said they’d do it.”

Nerves fill your stomach, anxious about the interview you have with Carlisle & Harlow. Wearing your most sophisticated, fitted black button-up with the same color slacks to go with it.

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm yourself as you straighten the collar of your shirt. The sharp black fabric feels comforting against your skin, almost like armor, but it doesn’t ease the tightness in your chest. The weight of the interview looming over you is enough to make everything feel more intense. “I know you trust them, but I don’t think I’m ready to put Koji in their care. I don’t trust them, not after everything.” You glance out the window. “What if something happens and I’m not there? What if they treat him differently… like they treated me?” Your voice quivers slightly, betraying the vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep hidden.

He parks the car, turning to look at you. “Hey,” he gently speaks, gaining your attention. “I know it’s hard. You have every right not to trust them. Hell, sometimes I don’t. But I’ve talked with them, okay? And I promise you—I promise—that nothing bad will happen to Koji. I’ll protect him and you with all I can. And I’ll be damned if my parents have something to say about it.”

Your breath hitches slightly as you hold his gaze, his eyes a mixture of reassurance and determination. The sincerity in his voice tugs at your heart, but you can’t quite shake the gnawing feeling in your gut. “You say that now, but you’ve never been in my shoes,” you murmur, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t get to choose how they treated me. And if they treat him the same way, I… I can’t handle that. Not again. Not with Koji.”

Satoru sighs, his fingers drumming softly on the steering wheel, his gaze flickering between you and the parking lot outside. “I get it. I do. But you can’t shield him from everything. You’re not alone in this anymore.” He leans in, placing a hand over yours. The warmth of his touch is grounding. “You’ve been carrying this weight by yourself for too long. Let me help you carry it.”

You swallow hard, the uncertainty and fear bubbling up inside you. “It's just…it’s hard. Letting go, trusting people—especially them—it’s not easy for me.”

He nods, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I get it. You’ve had a lot of time to build walls around yourself. But this… this is different. Koji deserves a chance at family, at love. And that means we need to trust, even if it’s hard. Not just for us, but for him.”

You look at him again, his expression serious yet tender, and for a moment, the weight of the world feels a little lighter. He’s not asking you to forget what happened or pretend everything’s okay. He’s just asking you to trust him.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you finally allow yourself to soften just a little. “But if anything goes wrong, I won’t hesitate to step in.”

Satoru’s smile is small but full of warmth. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve got your back. Always.” He leans in, as if about to press a kiss to your forehead before you turn to the door.

You awkwardly clear your throat, grab your purse, and ignore the urge to look back at his face. “Right. I—I’m going to go in now. Good luck at work. Your parents have my number, right? They’ll text us if anything happens?”

A hand scrubs over his neck, settling back in his seat. “Um…yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Great. I’ll take the bus back.”

“Are you su��”

“Thank you for driving me, bye now.”

You close the door before hearing what he has to say next. Forcibly brushing off this weird limbo you two are in, and instead, focusing on the now. This interview. Yourself. Your future. That’s what matters most. It’s a tall building situated within the nicer, more metropolitan area of Tokyo. One you’re still finding yourself getting used to. You don’t miss your shitty neighborhood, you won’t. But there’s still a small voice inside your mind that tells you this kind of environment, just living a city life, is not for you. Maybe one day, you can own a piece of property out in butt-fuck nowhere. Some cows, maybe chickens, and at least one chestnut horse. Ah, the thought is a nice one. If all goes well with this gig, that future may actually be a possibility.

Entering the lobby, important-looking people pass by. Some on the phone, discussing whatever deals are on the line, others rushing about, seemingly in a hurry to get from one place to the next. It’s a little chaotic, if you’re being honest. But why wouldn’t it be? Everyone’s dressed to impress, you can tell by the pristine, dark fabric of one guy’s suit. There’s a receptionist desk further down; that’s where you head. Straightening up and dusting off the imaginary particles on your shoulder, you make your way over. A subtle confidence is what you try to exude, smiling politely at the younger woman seated behind the desk. “Hi, excuse me?”

“One moment, please.” She holds a single finger up, talking on the phone while simultaneously clicking away at something on her monitor.

You nod quickly, stepping back just a bit to give her space, hands smoothing down your slacks as you glance around the lobby again—more a reflex than anything else. The walls are glass and concrete, modern and intimidating, and the clean, minimalist aesthetic makes you feel a little out of place no matter how well you dressed today. Still, you keep your chin up.

The receptionist finishes her call a moment later, setting the phone down with a practiced smile. “Hi there, sorry about that. Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes,” you reply, clearing your throat gently. “I’m here for an interview with Ms. Carlisle at eight-thirty.”

“Oh, Ms. Carlisle hasn’t come into the office yet.” The receptionist replies, head tilting. “Are you sure your interview with her was today?”

Your expression dampens slightly, hands fiddling. “Oh, um…yes, I’m sure. She said today.”

“Hmm, well that’s interesting.” Once again, the receptionist clicks and scrolls away on her monitor for a few seconds. You almost begin to think it’s a sign from the universe that it was all too good to be true, that maybe Evelyn even forgot she scheduled a meeting with you today in the first place. You’re about to lose all hope, but the girl speaks up again. “Well, you’re more than welcome to wait for her in her office. She’s up on the last floor. Once you’re out of the elevators, take a right, then another right, then a left, keep walking down, and you’ll see it. It’s not hard to miss.”

You thank her with a polite nod, trying to ignore the tightening in your stomach as you step toward the elevators. Maybe it was just a simple scheduling mix-up, or maybe this is what it’s like working in a place where everyone’s too busy to worry about being on time. Either way, you’re here now—and you’ll wait if you have to. You're not about to let something like this shake you. The elevator dings open with a soft chime, sleek and metallic inside, and you press the button for the top floor, which is the twenty-first. As the doors close, you catch your reflection in the mirrored panel—sharp collar, clean lines, confident-enough face—and you give yourself the smallest of nods. You can do this.

The ride up is smooth and quiet, faced with the beautiful skyline of a bright Tokyo morning. When the doors finally slide open, you’re met with the hushed luxury of the executive floor. It’s quieter up here—less of the bustling chaos from the lobby. The air feels cooler, more sterile, with plush carpeting and abstract art lining the walls. Probably the higher up you go, the more important the people are, and the more hushed it is.

Following the receptionist’s directions, you navigate the hallway, counting your turns. Right. Another right. Then left. And just like she said, there it is—Carlisle etched on the frosted glass door in neat serif lettering. It’s large, imposing, and framed by dark wood with a gold handle that gleams faintly in the soft overhead lighting. You pause just before reaching for it, taking another deep breath to center yourself.

This interview could change everything. Not just your job. Not just your income. But your whole future.

You knock twice, then slowly push the door open.

No one is inside, as you expected, but it still felt respectful enough to knock. There’s a dark mahogany desk in the center, a reclining seat behind it, with two chairs on the opposite side. Two monitors with a landline and piles of paperwork stacked on top. To the right is a plush, black leather couch. The walls have some paintings, you could only assume cost way too much for such simplicity. Carefully, you walk inside, plopping down onto one of the two chairs. Hands folded in your lap as the silence envelopes you, head swivelling around as you continue to take in the atmosphere. It’s not too large of an office, but still bigger than your normal supervisor's one. You almost question how similar this one looks to someone like Satoru’s, someone who has a high ranking in such a noteworthy company. Not that you’ve ever seen his.

Boredom begins to strike as you wait for her to arrive. You check your watch. 8:36. If there’s one thing you hate most in your life, it’s late people. Your finger taps against your knuckles, your foot against the floor as time ticks. When you glance at Evelyn’s desk again, you notice that she has a framed picture. It’s the only thing on her mess of a desk that seems like a personal artifact. You lean closer in your seat, head tilting to the side and just barely nudging the frame so you can have a better look.

One more month until we meet you, Baby Jeanie.

Evelyn is wearing a white dress, with a very obvious bump beneath it. Beside her stands her late husband, Noah Harlow, his blonde hair reflecting the sunlight. Her head is leaning on his shoulder, and each of their hands is placed on top of the life they’ve created. Genuine smiles painted their faces. He’s wearing a clean, tan button-up, with light slacks to match. The day looks perfect, the picture beautifully representing what it must’ve felt like for the expecting couple. A small twist forms at your heart, lip curving down.

“Three years today.”

You jolt with a gasp, quickly settling back in your seat, forcing your slouched position away.

Evelyn’s voice is calm but laced with a grief you recognize immediately. Her heels click softly against the floor as she walks into the office, setting her bag down on the desk with practiced ease. She doesn’t look at the photo—she doesn’t have to. Her gaze is distant, almost unreadable, but you see the heaviness behind her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to—” you start, flustered, guilt blooming in your chest as you sit up straighter, “I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just—”

She lifts a hand, gently waving it off. “It’s alright.” Her voice is quiet, steady. “I keep it there because I want people to see it. It reminds me why I do what I do.” A pause. “And who I’ve done it for.”

You nod, unsure what else to say. Your fingers nervously clutch the edge of your slacks.

Evelyn takes her seat behind the desk and leans back in her chair, studying you with sharp, blue, observant eyes that don’t quite match the soft sorrow of her earlier tone. She taps the edge of her keyboard before finally breaking the silence again. “You’re early. I like that.”

“I—I wasn’t sure about traffic,” you manage, forcing a small, professional smile. “Figured it’s better than being late.”

“Smart. And rare,” she replies, and though her tone is cool, there’s something vaguely warm beneath it. “Let’s not waste time, then.”

She flips open a leather-bound folder, scanning your resume briefly. You can feel the shift—how she seems to pull herself together quickly, brushing her personal grief behind some invisible barrier to focus on the task at hand. “You did bring your resume, correct?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” You nod, reaching down to pull a folder out of your purse. You open it and hand her a straight, white sheet of paper stapled together. “

She takes it, head tilting as she analyzes it quietly. She hums. “Quite a lengthy list of employment.”

“I’ve been working since I was barely a teenager,” you nod.

Evelyn doesn’t look up at first, eyes scanning the page with the kind of thorough attention that makes your pulse tick faster in your throat. Her fingers rest at the corner of the paper, unmoving, like she’s weighing something much heavier than a resume. Finally, she speaks again.

“And not a single job lasted more than…ten months.” Her gaze lifts, sharp and assessing. “Why is that?”

You hesitate, the air suddenly feeling too thick in your lungs. There it is—that dreaded question. Not unexpected, but still difficult to explain in a way that doesn’t sound like you’re making excuses. You fold your hands in your lap, straighten your spine once more, and meet her eyes. “Most of them were out of necessity,” you say honestly. “Temporary work, short-term contracts, jobs I took to keep a roof over our heads. It wasn’t about building a career at the time. It was survival.”

There’s a pause. Evelyn leans back slightly, arms folding across her chest. She watches you in silence for a moment longer before her tone softens—just a fraction.

“And now?”

Your throat feels tight, but you manage to hold steady. “Now, I’m not just trying to survive anymore. I want something stable. I want something I can grow in, something that’s mine. For me. And for my son. I want us both to have security.”

Evelyn’s brow twitches faintly at the mention of your child, though she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she sets your resume down and steeples her fingers. The grief you saw earlier remains behind her eyes, like a shadow, but something shifts. “You’re not the most qualified person on paper,” she says bluntly. “But I’ve made decisions from instinct before—and they’ve served me well.”

Another pause.

“Tell me why I should take that chance on you.”

You falter a bit, and a part of you almost blurts out, Well, you came up to me at my job, you sought me out, but you hold it back. “Well, I’m a very…hard worker. I’m passionate, and I’m very dependable. I believe that I have a lot of years' worth of experience, and I can be a great addition to this company. I’ve never been a personal secretary before, but I’m diligent, I’m…great at conflict management. And I get my work done.”

“You and…many other people, Y/N.” She murmurs, leaning back in her seat, one leg crossing over the other. “Give me more. What makes you stand out?”

God, you hate questions like these. You rack your brain for a bit, coming up with the most generic answer. “I’m a very determined person. I’m adaptable.”

“And that makes you, what?”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat. Her tone isn’t cruel, but it is pointed, like she’s testing you, pushing to see if there’s anything beyond the surface. And maybe she has every right to. This is the kind of job people fight for, the kind you don’t just walk into from a string of restaurant gigs and hourly jobs. But you’ve fought too hard to shrink now. So, you breathe in, let your shoulders settle, and drop the polite, rehearsed version of yourself.

“It makes me someone who doesn’t give up when things get hard,” you say, voice calmer now, more grounded. “Someone who keeps showing up. Even when I’m scared. Even when I’ve got every reason to quit. I’ve worked through grief, through debt, through raising a child by myself. And I still found a way to keep going. I may not have a polished resume, and I might not look perfect on paper, but I learn fast, and I don’t need hand-holding. You won’t have to babysit me. I can take a hit and keep moving.”

Your voice quiets, but your gaze stays steady on hers.

“I know what it means to build from nothing. And I’m not afraid to start again, even here.”

The silence that follows is thicker this time, but not uncomfortable. Not exactly. Evelyn studies you with a different kind of stillness now. Not dismissive. Not uninterested. Just…watching. Measuring. Then, she speaks. “How old is your child?”

“He’s five now.”

“Going to school?”

“He is.”

Evelyn nods slowly, fingers steepled beneath her chin as she regards you with something unreadable—less like an employer sizing up a candidate, and more like a woman pulling apart a story that hits too close to home. “You’ll have to leave early sometimes. Sick days. School closures. Emergencies.” Her voice is even, neutral.

You nod. “I try to plan for those things ahead of time. But yes, sometimes they’re unavoidable.”

Another beat of silence. Then, she leans back slightly, eyes narrowing, but not unkindly, with intent. “Being a personal secretary isn’t just phones and calendars. It’s long hours. Emotional labor. You’ll be expected to run interference, manage people’s moods, anticipate needs before they’re spoken. My assistant before you quit because the pressure bled into her marriage.”

She lets that sink in. Not as a threat, but as a truth.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just telling you—you’ll be expected to carry a lot. Are you ready for that, Y/N? Not just for the job. But for what it takes from you?”

Your lips purse, fingers curling into your palms. Every question from her feels like a test. A reminder that this job, although presented to you, is not one for the weak. Well, luckily for you, you’re not married like the last girl. And, unluckily for Eveleyn, she may wish you were.

You huff a small breath through your nostrils before speaking with conviction. “I’m ready. I’ve made the necessary steps to get to where I am for my son and for me. I can push and push, and I can take just as much. I…I have more to fight for now.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicker slightly, just a subtle change in the way she regards you, but it’s enough to let you know she heard you. She shifts in her seat, elbows resting on the arms of her chair, hands folding neatly in her lap. There’s a glimmer of something—approval or maybe just curiosity—as she leans forward just enough to study you. “I see,” she murmurs. Her voice is softer now, less challenging. “You’re driven. That’s clear.”

You meet her gaze, holding it steady, feeling the weight of her scrutiny but refusing to flinch. This interview, this moment, it feels like one more battle you’ve got to win, and you’re determined to prove that you're capable of fighting for what you want, even if it’s a battle she doesn't yet fully understand. She taps her pen lightly against her desk, contemplating. “Alright, Y/N. I’ll be honest. I’ve had my doubts about taking on someone with little experience in this specific role. But you’ve shown me something I wasn’t expecting. I’ll need to run this by my team, but you’ll hear back from me soon. If all goes well, I’ll put you through a trial month. That’s all I can promise for now.”

You nod, the tension in your shoulders loosening just slightly. The worst of it is over. Or so you hope. “Thank you,” you say, standing up with a calmness you didn’t feel five minutes ago. You offer her a polite smile. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

Evelyn gives you a small nod, standing as well. “Good luck, Y/N. I think you’ll need it.”

As you leave the office, your heart is still racing, but now it’s not from nerves. It’s from knowing you’ve fought for this. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough. A smile makes its way onto your face. That wasn’t half bad and not nearly as long as you thought it would be. Of course, you would’ve loved to have been hired on the spot, but it makes sense that she needs to consult first.

Still, it wasn’t rejection.

You lightly chuckle, turning one of the first corners, when suddenly, you collide with someone. You gasp, stumbling back a little before catching your footing. “Oh, I—I’m so sorry. That was an accident.”

Locking eyes with the person you’ve just come into contact with, you see it’s an older man. His grey hair is styled sleekly back, with hints of crows feet around the outer edges of his hazel eyes. He’s dressed like every other man here. Nice, fancy, pristine. He dusts off his right shoulder, straightening his blazer out. “Don’t worry, simple mistake.” His voice is clean and smooth, slightly rough at the edges, which makes it obvious he was or still is a smoker.

You quickly step back, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment. The man’s eyes soften as he gives a short hum. “It happens.” He gestures to the hallway behind him with a brief nod. You step aside, offering another apology. His eyes just very briefly scan you up and down, lingering on a couple of features of your face, specifically your nose and eyebrows, before transferring quickly to your ears.

“Have a nice day,” you mutter awkwardly.

“Mhm,” is all he says before walking past you. Once he’s gone, your body feels lighter, as if this stranger’s presence made you all wacky from the inside. You cast a small look around the corner, making it just in time to notice Evelyn’s door closing with a click.

You swallow, shaking off the lingering feeling that man left behind. His presence, the way his eyes skimmed over you, there was something strange about it, but you can’t put your finger on what. You chalk it up to nerves from the interview and move on. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, right? Besides, it’s Evelyn’s opinion that matters now. You keep walking, feeling that mix of relief and uncertainty creeping back into your chest. It’s a good thing the interview went well, but the weight of waiting for a callback still lingers heavily. As you approach the elevator, you check your phone, noticing a message from Satoru.

Satoru: "How’d it go?"

You smile a little, despite everything. You type out a quick reply:

You: "Better than I expected. No decision yet, but I didn’t bomb it."

You hit send, stepping into the elevator, your mind still buzzing. A moment later, the door closes, and the hum of the elevator fills the silence. You rest against the metal wall, letting your thoughts wander back to the interview, to what could come next.

It could be the start of something bigger.

“My, this…neighborhood,” Akane comments, laced with disgust. Her face wrinkles slightly at the trash that leaks out of the garbage can, obviously not being taken care of, the sketchy-looking liquor stores that seem too close together, but must be an alcoholic’s dream. The car stops at the elementary school, she looks over at her husband. “Are you sure this is the boy’s school?”

“That’s what the damn GPS is telling me. That’s what Satoru said.” Yamato huffs, grabbing his phone, pointer finger jabbing at the bright screen, and pulling down the glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Akane sighs, straightening out her dress.

“C’mon, Satoru said his class should have already been let out, let’s go find the room.” Yamato pushes his hair back, sighing as he gets out his Rolls-Royce Cullinan. Rounding the car to open the passenger door for his wife. They link hands and head toward the front doors of Koji’s school.

“I hope we don’t get mugged,” Akane mutters under her breath.

“Oh, quiet. We’re only here for the kid.” Yamato easily replies, eyes rolling.

The inside of the school isn’t much better. The walls are faded, bulletin boards cluttered with crumpled flyers, hand-drawn posters, and outdated announcements. The linoleum under their feet squeaks with every step, and the fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. Akane grimaces as a child runs past them with a juice-stained shirt, followed by another with untied shoes and an uncovered sneeze.

“This place smells like glue and poverty,” she mutters, pulling her handbag closer to her side.

Yamato doesn’t respond this time. He’s focused on the numbers above each door, squinting until they finally stop in front of Room 2B. Children’s laughter and the low hum of a teacher’s voice filter through the door. Akane frowns, eyes narrowing at the chipped paint on the doorframe.

Yamato raises his hand to knock, hesitates for a moment, and then glances at his wife. “Just…behave, alright?”

“I always do,” Akane answers with a sugary edge, smoothing her hair back and lifting her chin as he knocks.

The noise inside dips for a second as a voice— the teacher’s—calls out, “Come in!”

And just like that, the Gojo parents step into a room that’s far too small, far too loud, and far too beneath them—only, they’re not here for any of that.

They’re here for Koji.

Yamato presents a small smile. “Hello, we’re here for our…” grandson? Should he say grandson? Technically, he is, but it doesn’t really feel that way. “Koji. We’re his grandparents.”

“Ah! Right!” The teacher, an older lady with brown hair and a stained apron, nods. “His mother said he would be getting picked up by you two.” She turns her head over her shoulder, and the other kids who haven’t been picked up by their parents yet either. “Koji! Your grandparents are here, come get your backpack and jacket.”

Koji looks up from the little table where he’s been coloring with a few other kids. Crayons clatter as he quickly slides out of his chair, eyes wide and uncertain as he stares at the unfamiliar older couple standing at the door. He doesn’t move right away. His teacher encourages him with a soft pat on the back. “It’s okay, sweetie, go on.”

He walks slowly, dragging his feet just a little as he clutches his drawing in one hand. When he reaches them, he stops just a few feet away, looking up. His face is unreadable—neither shy nor excited, just…quiet. Observing. His blue eyes flick from Yamato’s trimmed goatee to Akane’s sharp heels.

A slightly awkward affair as the three leave the room, his teacher ensuring to tell Yamato to tell Koji’s mother about his homework left in his backpack. He nods, hand hesitantly hovering above the boy’s small shoulder as they walk back down the hallway. Yamato and Akane share a knowing, quiet glance.

Once they get outside, Akane clears her throat, looking down at Koji. “Koji, do you remember us?”

“Um…only a little bit,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he mentally recounts the day he first saw the two who call themselves his grandparents. Luckily, you and Satoru were with him that day, but now he’s all alone.

They get to the car, with Yamato opening the backseat. Koji’s eyes widened slightly in awe at the sleek, black car presented in front of him. “Papa’s car is cool too…” he offhandedly comments.

Akane arches a brow. “I’m sure it is,” she replies curtly, helping him into the car with a practiced grace that still feels stiff, unfamiliar. Koji slides into his booster seat, hands lightly grazing the armrest before clutching his backpack in his lap. Yamato shuts the door and exchanges another glance with his wife before circling back to the driver’s side. The moment he starts the engine, the car hums to life with silent power, and for a while, none of them speak.

Koji, ever perceptive, clutches his drawing a little tighter.

Akane breaks the silence first. “So… what were you drawing back there?”

Koji hesitates. “Me and Mama. At the park.”

“Hmm,” she hums, gaze forward. “No Papa?”

Koji’s lips press together. “He wasn’t there that day.”

Yamato’s knuckles tighten slightly on the wheel. Akane doesn’t respond, but the weight of her silence is as cutting as her tone. After a few more seconds, Yamato clears his throat, glancing at Koji through the rearview mirror. “We were thinking we could take you out for something to eat. Anywhere you like.”

Koji blinks. “Like… McDonald’s?”

Akane’s lips curl into something halfway between a smile and a wince. “If that’s what you want.”

“Can I get a toy?” Koji asks, almost hopefully now.

“Yes,” Yamato answers, firm but not unkind. “You can get whatever you want.”

There’s a beat of calm. Then, very softly, Koji says, “Mama doesn’t have a car like this.”

Yamato exhales quietly. “I know.”

Akane folds her hands in her lap, casting a sideways glance out the window. “That’s why we’re here.”

The ride to McDonald’s isn’t as painfully quiet. Yamato turns the radio on, volume in the middle. Koji swings his legs back and forth, looking out the tinted window as the streets blur past him. His head tilts when they pass the McDonald’s. “We missed McDonald’s,” he says, looking at the older couple with a confused gaze.

Yamato meets his eyes through the rear-view mirror momentarily. “There’s another McDonald’s closer to our house.”

“Your house?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m going to your house?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why not my house?”

God, he forgot just how questioning children are. Akane answers this time. “Because your mother and father will meet us there later. Until then, you’ll stay at our house.”

Koji is silent for a minute, processing the information. He looks down at his drawing, hands smoothing out the paper. “Is your house big?” He questions.

Akane gives a soft hum, like she’s debating how much to say. “Yes. It’s quite big. There’s a garden and a fountain in the front. We have a piano, too.”

“A piano?” Koji repeats, eyes lighting up just a bit as he looks up from his drawing. “Do you play it?”

“I used to,” she replies, her voice a little softer now. “Maybe I’ll show you.”

Yamato glances at her, surprised by the gentle tone, but doesn’t comment. He switches lanes with ease, and they pass through the quiet, wealthier side of the city. The roads get smoother. Cleaner. Koji notices the change, too.

“Are there kids in your neighborhood?”

“A few,” Yamato answers. “Most are older, though. Teenagers.”

“Oh.” Koji pauses again, then looks back out the window. “Mama says big houses get quiet.”

Akane’s lips press together tightly. “That’s true. But sometimes quiet can be peaceful.”

Koji doesn’t respond. He just tucks his drawing back into his backpack and rests his chin in his hand, blinking slowly at the soft-spoken world outside the window—one that doesn’t look like his. One that doesn’t feel like his.

Yamato parks in the McDonald’s parking lot, unbuckling. Akane and Koji do the same, waiting for the man to open their doors. Koji hops out as Akane does. Koji, ever excited, begins to briskly walk to the front doors of his favorite place. Yamato and Akane’s eyes widen, quickly following.

Akane’s hand awkwardly juts out, as if she’s about to grab his hand, before stopping. She instead clears her throat. “Walk slower, now.”

Koji slows down, glancing up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles, scuffing his shoes against the concrete as he adjusts his pace. He waits beside her, though there’s a slight fidget in his steps. He’s not used to slowing down for anyone but his mom.

Inside, the McDonald’s smells like fries and melted cheese. A kid screams with glee somewhere near the play area, and Koji visibly relaxes at the familiar chaos. Yamato leads them to the counter, where a bored-looking teenager takes their order. Koji clutches the edge of the counter, peering up as he declares confidently, “I want a Happy Meal. With the dinosaur toy. And apple slices, not fries. And orange soda!”

Yamato raises a brow but doesn’t argue. “Happy Meal. Dinosaur toy. Apple slices. Orange soda,” he repeats to the cashier, who nods with a shrug.

Akane watches Koji from the side, eyes tracing how easily he fits here—how his energy might be too big for their cold, cavernous home. She adjusts the pearl bracelet on her wrist, a little unsettled.

Once they get the food, they sit at a clean booth near the window. Yamato and Akane both sit across from Koji. Koji munches on his food contentedly, his legs swinging again. He pulls the toy from the box, a green triceratops, and sets it beside his apple slices. “He looks mad,” he says, turning it toward them.

Yamato checks his watch. “Maybe he doesn’t like apple slices.”

Koji giggles slightly at the dry humor of his grandfather. Yamato clears his throat, looking up and leaning back in the booth. The older couple watch in quietness as Koji happily devours his food, occasionally stopping to move his toy dinosaur and mimic a small roar.

It’s strange for them. They’re grandparents, and yet they know close to nothing about this boy. All that they do is he’s a carbon copy of their son, but his mannerisms closely match yours.

Akane finds herself watching Koji more than she eats. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, just like you do when you’re distracted. His laughter comes in bursts, quick and bright, like a firecracker going off in a still room. And when he talks about his toy, he looks up at them with expectant eyes, seeking some kind of shared interest neither of them really knows how to give yet.

Yamato studies him too, arms crossed now, food half-finished. The boy’s smart. He doesn’t fidget aimlessly; he thinks before he speaks. He absorbs everything. Just like Satoru did. Maybe more.

Koji finishes his apple slices, downs the rest of his orange soda, and then sits back and smiles at them. “Do you have toys at your house?”

“No,” Akane answers honestly. “But we can get some.”

“Cool,” he says, simple and trusting. “Papa gets me a lot of toys.”

Akane hums lowly. “Do you like your toys?”

“I do!” He chews on his last chicken nugget.

“What’s your favorite toy?” She asks, arms on the table as she leans forward.

Koji doesn’t answer right away. He swallows his food, then looks up at her with that same wide-eyed honesty he always has when asked something serious. His fingers toy with the edge of the Happy Meal box. “I like my robot dog,” he finally says. “Papa gave it to me when I was sick. He said it could bark and dance, but it only spins in circles now. I think I broke it.” He pauses, thoughtful. “But I still like it.”

Akane tilts her head slightly, a quiet softness tugging at her features. “Even though it doesn’t work right?”

Koji shrugs. “Yeah. Because Papa said it’s mine. So it’s special.”

She studies him—how simple his logic is. How unwavering his sense of loyalty already seems to be. Her fingers tighten ever so slightly around the edge of the table. “I see,” she murmurs. “That makes sense.”

Yamato glances at her, then down at his phone.

Koji sits up straighter. “Do you have toys from when you were little?”

Akane chuckles under her breath, caught off guard. “Not anymore. I didn’t keep many things.”

“Why not?”

She hesitates, then smiles faintly. “I guess I didn’t think I’d need them.”

Koji stares at her for a second, then looks at his dinosaur toy. “You can have this one if you want,” he offers, sliding it across the table toward her. “So you have a toy again.”

Akane freezes.

Even Yamato lifts his eyes from his phone, blinking in surprise.

“O-oh, well, um—” she clears her throat, hesitantly taking the toy in her hand. “Well…that’s very…nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Mama says sharing is caring.” He shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Akane’s eyebrow lifts. Seems you’ve taught your boy some good manners. At least.

She turns the toy over in her hands, the little green dinosaur staring back at her with its molded plastic scowl. Something in her expression softens further, an unspoken crack in her perfectly composed exterior. It’s clear she hasn’t been offered something so small yet so sincere in a very long time.

“Well,” she says carefully, “I’ll take very good care of him.”

Koji beams, nodding. “Good. He doesn’t like being alone.”

Akane offers a small, almost reluctant smile. “Neither do I.”

Yamato watches quietly, lips pressed together, a crease forming between his brows—not because of disapproval, but something closer to discomfort. Like watching something unfamiliar begin to unfold in front of him. Just then, Koji reaches for his drink, slurping the last of his orange soda loudly. He sighs, satisfied, then stretches his arms out wide. “When are Mama and Papa coming?”

Akane and Yamato share a quick look. She reaches for her clutch, already checking her phone.

“They’ll meet us back at the house later,” Yamato says, standing up slowly. “Let’s get going before traffic gets bad.”

Koji jumps to his feet with a little bounce. “Okay!”

Akane hesitates just a moment longer, placing the dinosaur into her purse beside her wallet and keys, treating it more carefully than she expected she would.

The entire bus ride to your ex’s parents’ house was spent in utter anxiety. You fiddle with your hands, foot tapping, and looking out the window. You haven’t seen them since that one day a couple of months back. You wish things were just easy enough so that you could have at least a semblance of a relationship with them. Especially if this co-parenting works out, it’s going to be inevitable you’ll be seeing them. You sigh, head resting back against your seat, eyes closing.

“Satoru not bringing you food anymore?”

You gasp and jolt, whirling around quickly. The kitchen light flips on, caught right in the act of stealing a couple of pastries from the pantry, as well as a carton of orange juice.

Akane stands in a nightgown, arms crossed, with a strong expression. Her eyes move up and down your figure, scoffing audibly. Her chin tilts up, silently commanding you to explain yourself.

You swallow the current food in your mouth, wiping it with your hand. “I…um…I—well, I can explain.”

“Explain?” She steps forward. “Explain why my son’s good-for-nothing girlfriend has not only been staying in our guesthouse, but stealing our food? Go on, then. Explain.”

Her belittling tone makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. God damn it, Satoru. Where the hell are you?! “I…um…there’s—there’s just some stuff going on at home. Satoru said I could stay here until things clear up.”

“And he didn’t even bother to tell me or his father.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to over—”

“Why are you here?”

“I—I needed a place to stay. I’m sorry. I won’t be here for long.”

Akane stares at you for a long, unbearable second. Her jaw clenches. You can tell she’s holding back something sharp. Maybe it’s restraint, or maybe it’s just another judgment she wants to hurl your way. “I should’ve known,” she says quietly. “Satoru always did have a soft spot for broken things.”

That one stings more than you’d like to admit. Your throat tightens. You look down, ashamed, both hands still wrapped around the cold carton of juice. “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” you whisper. “I just needed a couple weeks. That’s all.”

Akane stares you down in silence for what feels like a full minute. The ticking clock above the stove echoes between you, and your heart hammers louder with each passing second. Her eyes narrow, not with confusion, but calculation. “Let me guess,” she says finally, her voice quiet but sharp enough to cut glass. “You got into a fight with your mother again. Or maybe Satoru ran his mouth and scared you off?”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s not like that.”

“No? Then tell me. Because all I see is a girl too proud to ask for help and too stupid to leave when she should’ve.” Her arms drop, but her words are no less harsh. “You’ve been sneaking around this house like a rodent. Do you know how humiliating it is to find out from the housekeeper that someone’s been using the shower and leaving dishes in the sink?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You can feel your throat tighten.

Akane sighs—long, exhausted, and judgmental. “You girls think just because someone like Satoru gives you attention, you’ve made it. But you don’t know the first thing about surviving in this family.”

Your knuckles whiten around the orange juice. The ache in your chest is unbearable, but you force yourself to speak. “I didn’t ask to be here. Satoru said it wouldn’t be permanent. He’s helping me. And I’ve been trying to stay out of everyone’s way.”

“You failed.” Her reply is quick and cutting. “Do you know how hard his father and I work to keep his name clean? To keep distractions away while he was studying, preparing to inherit everything? And now look at him—sneaking you in like a dirty secret.”

The word “distraction” lingers in the air like poison. You blink rapidly, biting your tongue until you taste metal. “I’m not trying to ruin his life.”

Akane steps closer now. She isn’t yelling. She doesn’t need to. “Then leave before you do.”

Akane snatches the food and juice from your arms, giving you a brief jut of her chin. “Go back into the guesthouse. I’m not dealing with you anymore tonight.”

You blink, holding back tears. Wordlessly, you bite your lip, turn on your heel, and exit through the back door into the cool night air. Tears sting your eyes as you enter the guesthouse, closing the door with a shut before making your way to the bed.

You sit on the edge of the bed for a long while, still in the dark, clutching the hem of your shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground. The burn in your throat won’t ease, no matter how hard you swallow. You press your palms to your eyes, trying not to let the sob crawl out of you.

She doesn’t know.

You repeat this tiny mantra to yourself, willing your brain not to go into overdrive for what will be the millionth time this week.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Satoru promised. He said they wouldn’t even have to know you were here. Just a few weeks, just until you guys figured out what to do, until you started feeling better, until you could afford that studio apartment in Setagaya. But it’s already been four nights since you found out, and you’re still waking up at three in the morning, stomach twisted in knots, half from nausea and half from sorrow.

And he still hasn’t answered your texts.

You stir awake from your small nap as the bus gets to your stop, rubbing your eyes and getting off. His parents’ place shouldn’t be too far from here, if memory serves you right. You sigh and begin walking, just trying to think about being able to see your little boy in a little bit, not come face to face with them.

You hug your coat tighter around you as you walk, the cool afternoon air nipping at your cheeks. The streets are too clean here. Too quiet. You hate how familiar it still feels, the ivy-lined walls, the sharp turns of the hedges, the cold elegance of it all. You used to think it was beautiful. Now it just feels heavy.

Your feet move on instinct, carrying you past the old stone wall you remember scraping your knees on one time, the bakery where Satoru used to buy you those strawberry mochi on Fridays. Everything is the same, but so different.

You pause as you get to the intercom at the gate surrounding the Gojo Estate. Pressing the button. A small buzz sounds out, a man’s voice you recognize coming in. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N.”

There’s a tiny silence before you hear another buzz, the wide gates slowly opening. Taking a deep breath, you start up the long driveway, hands shoved in the pockets of your coat. Eyes focused on the two white grand doors. Once you get there, the doors open, revealing Yamato.

You purse your lips awkwardly. “Um…hi.”

He nods briefly before stepping aside. The moment you enter, a wave of nostalgia washes over your entire being. You force yourself not to book it out of there.

“Satoru said he’d be here in twenty minutes,” Yamato utters.

You nod, looking around. “And Koji?”

“Come,” he motions with his hand, turning to walk down the hallway towards the large living space. You follow a few steps behind, passing by a few family memorabilia on the way. You stop when he does. You blink, head tilting slightly.

In front of you, your son and Satoru’s mother with their backs turned to you. They sit on the seat of the piano.

The scene before you feels surreal, like stepping into a memory that doesn’t belong to you, yet it does. Koji, perched on the piano bench, his tiny fingers brushing over the ivory keys, a look of intense concentration on his face. And Akane, beside him, her back straight and her hands poised delicately over the keys as she guides him. The quiet, peaceful moment is almost too perfect.

“She’s been teaching him for the last hour, he’s very curious.” Yamato comments, arms crossing. He side-glances at you, noticing your quietness.

“Oh, well…that’s good. He’s never seen one in person before,” you mumble, awkwardly shifting on your feet. You can faintly hear Akane mutter a direction to your son, followed by his nod. Your stomach turns, unsure of how to feel about all this. “He’s been behaving?” You decide to ask.

Yamato nods, meeting your eyes. “Quite so.” He says nothing for a few more seconds before sighing and angling his body towards you. “Look, this is new for all of us. I didn’t expect him to be so open towards us.”

“Because I taught him to be kind to everyone,” you cooly reply, looking up at him. “No matter what.”

Yamato gets the silent message, jaw ticking just barely. “I know you may have resentment towards us, but we’re not your enemy,” he finishes, voice steady, but laced with something heavier.

You blink, swallowing thickly as your fingers curl inside your pockets. Enemy. You weren’t expecting that word, but maybe it fits more than you’d like to admit. Your silence stretches too long, and you know he’s waiting for you to snap, to throw all your pent-up frustration in his face.

But you don’t. Instead, you let out a small exhale, glancing back at Koji and Akane. “I don’t resent anyone,” you say, voice quiet. “I just don’t forget.”

Yamato says nothing, but the pause between you sharpens. Then he gives a small nod, almost as if conceding to something unspoken.

You walk past him.

As your feet carry you toward the piano room, Koji glances over his shoulder again. “Mama!” he beams, hopping off the bench and running into your arms.

You catch him easily, hugging him tight, letting his little arms wrap around your neck like ivy. “Hey, baby,” you murmur into his hair, inhaling the warm scent of shampoo and sunshine. When you lift your gaze again, Akane is standing. Her expression is cool and composed as always, hands clasped neatly in front of her. She doesn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes says enough.

She sees you.

“Thank you for teaching him,” you offer, voice strained but civil.

Akane tilts her head slightly. “He’s a fast learner,” she replies. “Takes after his father.”

You don’t comment on that, resisting the urge to say his mother, too.

“Would you like to hear what he’s learned?” she adds, tone perfectly poised.

You blink in surprise. For a moment, you wonder if this is some sort of trap, but Koji pulls back, eyes shining with excitement. “Can I show her, Grandma?”

Akane gives a small nod. “Of course.”

He runs back to the piano. You follow more slowly, sitting beside him this time. Your eyes flicker to Akane. She doesn’t sit, but she watches, hands folded, body rigid in that ever-disapproving way. Or maybe that’s just what she’s forever used to.

And still, as Koji presses the keys with tiny, proud fingers, all you can do is wonder:

Is this her trying?

Or is this just her performance?

You never know with these people.

Koji plays a small, four-key symphony. You smile softly, watching his tiny fingers move around the white keys before looking up at you with an expectant smile. “Oh, you’re so good. That sounded so wonderful,” you kiss his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to bring him into your side.

He giggles, kissing your cheek back. “Grandma said I’m a puh—poo—umm…a pr—”

“Prodigy,” Akane finishes for him.

Koji nods quickly. “Yeah! That! A prodigy!”

You can’t help the way your lips twitch at the corners, though you keep your tone even. “Is that so?”

Akane finally moves, just enough to step closer. “I wouldn’t say it lightly,” she murmurs. “He has an ear for rhythm. Muscle memory. Coordination. His age group typically struggles with that.”

You glance at her sideways. “He’s always been observant. Picks up things quickly.”

Akane nods once. “Yes. He’s sharp.”

There’s something there—a flicker of approval, rare and unfamiliar. It lands oddly. Not unwelcome, but not quite comforting either. Still, it lingers longer than you expect. And for the first time since arriving, her words feel… not like a dismissal. Not like judgment. More like an assessment.

You exhale slowly. “Well… as long as he’s enjoying it.”

Koji beams between you both. “I wanna be really good. Like the people on Papa’s phone!”

You blink. “What people?”

“He showed me a video of a man playing piano with his eyes closed. Really fast!” Koji’s eyes go wide. “I wanna do that.”

“Sounds ambitious,” you murmur, brushing his hair back gently.

“It’s possible,” Akane says, arms crossing. “With discipline and the right environment.”

Your jaw tightens, but you keep your expression neutral. “He’s five.”

Akane’s gaze doesn’t waver. “So was Satoru when he started.”

The comparison between Koji and Satoru is one you expected, but that doesn’t make you any less frustrated. You look back at Koji, his joy too pure, too focused, to let the weight of that conversation reach him. He starts playing again, a slower, clumsier version of the earlier song, tongue poking out in concentration. “Well, he’s not Satoru. He’s Koji.”

“He can still learn how Satoru did.”

“Or he can learn what he wants, when he wants. And if I allow it,” you calmly reply, standing up from the bench and taking your son into your arms. He’s already growing big enough to the point where picking him up hurts your back even more. However, you still want to cherish whatever strands of dependency you can with your son, even if that means suffering a backache.

Akane’s lips press into a thin line, not quite disapproving—but not agreeing either. You can see the tension in her posture, in the way her hands shift slightly as if she wants to say more but is holding back. “He’s yours,” she finally says. “That much is clear.”

You hold Koji tighter. “He always has been.”

Yamato clears his throat, hoping to die down the growing tension as he stands beside his wife. “Why don’t you two wait for Satoru in the dining room?”

You don’t need to be told twice, turning on your heel and walking out of the room, practically feeling their eyes burn holes in the back of your head. Once you’re gone, Akane sighs heavily, foot tapping against the ground. “That girl hasn’t changed.”

“I’m not in the mood to break up a fight right now, Akane.”

“I’m not fighting,” she snaps, glaring up at Yamato. “I’m observing. Simply. It’s not my fault she dislikes us.”

“It doesn’t matter if she does or does not, I don’t care enough to worry about that. But at least try to act civil in the presence of a child, yes?” Yamato asks in exasperation, eyebrow lifting.

She scoffs. “I am acting civil. Do you see me raising my voice and throwing a tantrum?”

“No, but it’s your tone.”

“And how is my tone?”

“Jesus Christ, just be nice for one goddamn minute. I’m too old for this crap,” Yamato huffs deeply, hand running through his hair. His lips are set into a creased frown, and he waves his hand up. “Just try to make her feel somewhat comfortable, okay. Got it?”

Akane opens her mouth. “But she—”

“I said, got it?” He asks again, giving his wife a look she’s familiar with. One that says he won’t tolerate her disobedience any longer.

Akane’s jaw tightens at the silent command, but she doesn’t argue this time. She just presses her lips together, gaze flicking toward the doorway you disappeared through. “…Got it,” she says eventually, her voice clipped.

Yamato sighs through his nose, the tension leaving his shoulders just slightly. He doesn’t say anything else as he steps out, leaving his wife behind in the piano room. She lingers for a moment, her eyes drifting toward the bench where Koji had been sitting—small hands, wide eyes, laughter like Satoru’s when he was little. She swallows something bitter before turning on her heel and following after her husband.

In the dining room, you sit Koji down on the edge of one of the long chairs, pulling his little hoodie off his head and smoothing his hair. He swings his feet as he sits, talking excitedly about the keys, the sounds, how Akane let him press the pedal even though he “wasn’t supposed to.” You smile and nod in all the right places, but your mind is elsewhere, your eyes flicking to the large windows, the too-white walls, the marble floors. It’s like being dropped into someone else’s memory.

You hear their footsteps before you see them. Yamato enters first, his face unreadable as always, though there’s a tiredness behind his eyes. Akane follows after, her posture still regal, but her expression more composed. Less… cutting.

She doesn’t look at you as she sits on the opposite side of the table.

Yamato clears his throat and glances between you both. “Would either of you like tea while we wait?”

“I’m okay,” you mutter.

“Um…juice?” he asks Koji, his voice a tad bit gentler.

“Apple?” Koji grins.

Yamato nods. “Coming right up.”

As he heads to the side kitchen, silence settles between you and Akane again. You keep your attention on Koji, who starts humming some made-up song to himself.

Then, after a beat, Akane speaks.

“I didn’t mean to undermine you,” she says, tone low and careful, like each word has been weighed a dozen times before being spoken. “I only meant to point out potential.”

You glance at her. Her gaze is steady.

“He’s your son,” she says. “But he’s Satoru’s, too. You can’t expect the world not to notice what’s in his blood.”

You lean forward, resting your arms on the table. “I don’t mind the world noticing. I mind when people try to turn him into someone he’s not.”

She sighs. “All I did was suggest he has greater potential.”

Akane’s words hang between you like an unresolved chord. The flicker in her eye, curiosity, perhaps hope, maybe even defensiveness—doesn’t go unnoticed.

You tilt your head. “I’m not against potential. I’m against projection.”

Her lips twitch at the corner. “You think I’m trying to mold him or something?”

“I think you don’t realize how easy it is to mistake admiration for control,” you say calmly. “And I’m not going to let him grow up thinking love has conditions attached to it.”

Akane stiffens slightly at that, her hands tightening over her lap. “You assume the worst in us.”

“No,” you reply softly. “I remember the worst. That’s not the same.”

Another pause. This time, it’s her gaze that flickers away, settling on the far end of the table where Koji now softly drums his fingers, looking between you and her. She decides not to push it; the longer the discussion grows, the more curious he might become. She looks up as Yamato holds out a juice box for Koji to take.

Just as he does so, Satoru walks into the room. His two top buttons unbuttoned, eyes glancing between his mother and you, silently trying to determine the comfort level of the current situation. “Hey,” he says, coming over to stand beside you. A quick look at your expression says everything.

“Papa!”

“Hey, buddy.” Satoru smiles, welcoming Koji into his arms, adjusting the small boy against his chest. He gives him a small kiss on the top of his head. “How was school?”

“Okay, I’m gonna miss my friends.” He admits, looking down with a small frown.

“Aw, buddy. I’m sure you are, but you’ll make even more friends at your new school.”

Koji childishly sighs, arms wrapping around his father’s neck and putting his face into the crook of it.

Satoru pats his back lightly, now focusing on his mother and you. His first question is directed towards you. “Everything good?”

You nod, though it’s a small, half-hearted gesture. “Peachy,” you murmur, not quite sarcastic, but not fully honest either.

His hand remains on Koji’s back, rubbing in slow, thoughtful circles. He glances at Akane, who has returned to her perfect stillness, eyes calmly watching the exchange as if it’s all part of a silent evaluation.

“She was just making observations,” you say before he can ask. “About Koji’s potential. About blood. About you at five.”

Satoru raises a brow, slowly lowering Koji to the chair beside him. “Mom,” he says, voice calm but edged, “We talked about this.”

Akane doesn’t flinch. “And I was careful. I said nothing out of line.”

“You never do,” he replies smoothly. But the look he gives her carries more weight than his tone. It’s the look of a son who’s lived too long parsing praise from performance. Yamato goes to his seat beside Akane with a grunt, muttering something about needing a stronger drink. You focus on Koji again, standing up to wipe juice from the side of his mouth as he slurps through the straw.

Then, Satoru shifts slightly closer to you, brushing your arm. “We don’t have to stay long,” he says low, for your ears only. “We can head out now, yeah?”

You glance at Koji, who’s swinging his legs, and you nod.

But it’s Akane who speaks next.

“You’re always leaving,” she says, tone bitter.

Satoru exhales through his nose. “And you’re always making it easy to.”

“The cooks will be making some shrimp tacos,” she says, standing as well. Her arms cross, looking between the two of you. “Maybe the boy can—”

“Koji is fine,” you cut in, fixing her with a firm gaze. “He’s a picky eater.”

Her lips purse tightly, restrained disapproval lurking behind her eyes. As if she is holding back a sharper comment. Her posture doesn’t waver, but the chill in the room thickens.

“He’ll learn to adjust,” she finally says, looking at you. “Children do. Especially in families like ours.”

Families like ours.

The words cling, sticky, and unpleasant. Satoru’s jaw tightens. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch at his side, the smallest urge to step in, to shield, to lash back. But instead, he smiles, tight, impersonal. “Koji isn’t some soldier in training, Mom.”

Akane lifts her chin. “And he shouldn’t be raised like a normal civilian, either.”

Yamato scoffs again, leaning back in his chair. “Here we go.”

Satoru ignores his father, eyes still on his mother. “He’s five,” he says flatly. “He likes dinosaur nuggets and cartoons that scream too loudly. He doesn’t need to know what it means to be part of this family yet.”

“And he doesn’t need to,” you add on.

She huffs dryly. “So you both plan on, what? Never allowing him to come over? To stay over?”

“Nobody is saying that, Mom.” Satoru exhales through his nostrils. “That is not at all what we said. Stop putting words in our mouths.”

“But that’s what I’m hearing.” Her voice rises, Koji just barely flinching in Satoru’s arms. You both notice, and your expression darkens. Satoru holds him closer, hand moving to his pearly white strands of hair to weave through in a calming manner. As if noticing the way she snapped, she blinks. For a moment, it looks like she might apologize.

But neither of you cares enough to stay to hear it.

“We’re leaving now.” You state, not leaving room for even more of whatever pathetic argument she might try to throw. Satoru and you turn, walking to the door.

Yamato side glances at Akane. Her eyebrows are furrowed, biting hard on her lip. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she looks regretful.

“Wait,” Koji says, looking over Satoru’s shoulder at the older couple. “Can I say bye to Grandma and Grandpa?”

Satoru pauses at the door, one hand on the knob, the other under Koji’s legs as the boy leans back slightly in his arms. You glance at him, silent, weighing the moment. Akane straightens. Yamato says nothing.

“Of course you can,” Satoru says finally, setting Koji gently down. “Go ahead.”

Koji pads back into the room, small feet quiet against the polished floor. He stops in front of Akane first, looking up at her with hesitant eyes. She meets them, unsure for once. There’s a flicker of something unfamiliar—a tender softness she doesn’t wear often enough, one she hasn’t had to wear in years.

“Bye, Grandma,” he says politely, giving a little wave.

Akane stares at him for a beat too long. Then slowly, she lowers herself to one knee, smoothing down her skirt. “Bye, Koji,” she replies, her voice quieter. “Thank you for coming.”

He smiles, just a little. She doesn’t hug him. But she brushes a piece of lint from his sleeve, like it’s the closest she knows how to get.

Next, he turns to Yamato. “Bye, Grandpa.”

Yamato grunts. “Be good, kid.”

Koji nods solemnly, then trots back to Satoru, who scoops him up with practiced ease. The tension hasn’t left the room, but the mood has shifted slightly, a tilt of something that might eventually become understanding. Or not. You don’t count on it.

Satoru looks over his shoulder. “We’ll be in touch.”

Akane nods once, lips pressed tight.

You don’t say anything else. The door closes behind you with a quiet click. As you walk down the hallway, Koji resting his head on Satoru’s shoulder, you murmur, “Thanks for not letting that go on any longer.”

He nods. “You looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing a glass at her.”

You snort, the sound small but real. “I still might.”

He holds open the front door. “Next time, we do neutral territory. Like a park. Or the moon.”

Koji yawns. “Only if there’s nuggets on the moon.”

You smile, despite it all. “We’ll make it happen.”

Akane sits back quietly in her seat, eyes laser-focused on the door you two just left. Her husband rubs his face. “I swear, if it’s not me one day, it’s you. And you said I’m driving him away.”

Akane doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze is still fixed on the door, her fingers tense around the armrest of the chair as though she’s trying to steady herself. Her jaw clenches, her silence a loud statement in the room. Yamato shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he leans back in his chair. “I’m getting too old for this.” He exhales heavily, rubbing his face with both hands, a look of both frustration and resignation settling on him. “Every damn time, Akane. Every time.”

Finally, Akane shifts slightly, her posture still stiff, but her eyes now narrowing as she shifts her eyes to her husband. “I don’t need your lectures right now, Yamato.”

“I’m not lecturing you, Akane,” he says, his voice sharp but tired. “I’m trying to understand where the hell we went wrong with him.”

Akane’s lips twist, the muscle in her cheek twitching slightly. “Where we went wrong? What about you? You think I don’t see how you’ve handled him? I’m not the only one pushing him away. He’s a grown man now, and he’s made his choices. Don’t you dare act like it’s all on me.”

Yamato’s eyes flick to the door again, his expression exasperated. “I don’t particularly favor either her or the boy, yes. But at least I can fake it in front of them. You preach how I’m ruining this family and how I care more about our legacy, but you’re the reason our son left our house angry, again.”

Akane’s gaze hardens as her husband’s words sink in, but she doesn’t respond right away. The silence between them thickens, heavy with the weight of old arguments and unspoken truths. Her fingers twitch tighter. Her posture remains rigid, every muscle seemingly on alert, and for a moment, Yamato wonders if she’s just waiting for the right moment to tear into him.

But instead, she takes a slow, deliberate breath, her voice quiet but icy when she finally speaks. “You want to talk about our son’s choices? Fine. But I’m not the one who hid behind his work, his pride, and a hundred excuses to avoid facing the truth.”

Yamato glares at her, the sharp edge of his frustration showing. “And what truth is that? That you’re right? That everything I’ve done to protect this family, to secure our future, was a mistake?”

Akane’s lips curl into a tight, bitter smile. “No. The truth is that we’ve been playing this game for too long, Yamato. For decades. You think Satoru’s leaving this house—this family—is his fault? You’ve built this perfect little empire on the backs of people like him, forcing them to believe they owe you everything. You taught him to put legacy before everything else, before loyalty, before love, before family.”

Her words cut deep, and Yamato feels his chest tighten. He leans forward, staring at his wife for a long, painful moment. “And what? You think you’ve been a perfect mother? You think you’ve done everything right? You think Satoru’s supposed to just bend to your every whim because you said so?” He scoffs bitterly. “You’ve been so busy trying to mold him into something he could never be. You haven’t seen him, Akane. Not really. You’re just as shitty as I am.”

Akane’s eyes flash with something, either anger or regret, or maybe both, but she’s quick to mask it with a calm veneer. “I’ve seen him. I’ve seen exactly who he is, and that’s what I’m trying to protect. This family doesn’t have the luxury of softness, Yamato. Not when it comes to survival.”

Yamato laughs, a hollow, humorless sound. “Survival? Is that what you think this is? You think we’re still fighting to survive?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the silence. It’s as if both are trying to hold on to the shards of a family that, in truth, has already splintered. Yamato’s gaze falls back on the door, his voice softer now, tinged with weariness. “I don’t know anymore, Akane. I don’t know what’s left of this family.”

Akane’s expression softens, just slightly, but her voice remains firm. “Then maybe it’s time you figured it out.” She gets up and storms out the room.

Yamato leans back in his chair, finally letting his eyes close for a moment, as though trying to block out the heavy weight of the conversation and everything that’s still left unsaid between them.

God, can we just be a normal family for once?

“He barely even let me come over to his parents.” Himari scoffs, teeth gritting. She’s leaned over the middle console from the back, eyes narrowed into slits as she watches the car housing her used-to-be-boyfriend, his annoying wrench of an ex, and some useless kid drive off.

Haruka sits beside her, wearing a white fur coat and dramatic, huge sunglasses that cover her eyes. She nudges beside Himari’s side, causing the other woman to grumble, in an attempt to get a look herself before the car makes a turn. Emi sits in the passenger seat, while Kenji is in the driver’s seat. The tint of their blacked-out vehicle keeping their presence obscured from outside view.

Himari huffs again, tapping her fingers impatiently against the window. “I don’t get it. He just let her waltz in and take over, like it was nothing. Like I wasn’t even there.”

Haruka, ever the faux composed figure she is, brushes a strand of hair out of her face and sighs dramatically. “Men are always like that, darling. So quick to give away what doesn’t belong to them.”

Emi leans forward, her voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not just about what belongs to him. It’s about what she thinks she deserves. And she clearly thinks she deserves him.”

“So, what now?” Himari crosses her arms, looking at her parents, then at Haruka. “I’m confused how this old hag will help.”

“Huh?! What did you—”

“She’s here to reclaim her daughter and drag her out the clutches of Satoru, Himari.” Emi sighs, looking over her shoulder at her daughter. “Just ignore her, she’s only an accessory.”

“Excuse me!—”

“Approach her again,” Kenji finally speaks, effectively quieting down the car. He lights a cigar. “His father has been sending a representative to meet with me instead of himself. Seems cowards run in the family.”

“And then what? What if she doesn’t help?” Himari argues back.

“I can help,” Haruka starts, lip curled into a scowl. “I’m not a useless brat like you. God, your generation knows nothing of respect.”

“I respect people who are on my same level. You? You’re like my pair of 2016 Versace pumps.” She flips her hair back.

“Oh, you little—”

“I have reinforcements. When the time is right,” he lets out a puff of smoke. “They’ll start playing too.”

Himari groans loudly, running her hands through her hair.

Haruka glares at Himari, her lips tightening into a practiced, poisonous smile. “I see Emi’s been raising her like a spoiled show dog. Pretty enough, but all bark, no bite.”

Emi chuckles softly, her tone dismissive. “And yet she’s the one he was with until your daughter came crawling out of the shadows, looking for scraps.”

“Crawling?” Haruka lets out a bitter laugh, the fur collar of her coat brushing her jaw as she turns to face Emi more fully. “Please. She doesn’t crawl—he has to have come looking. Don’t confuse desperation with effort. If anything, your Himari was the warm-up act.”

Himari scoffs, insulted, but Kenji speaks before she can bite back again. “Enough,” he says, cold and unamused. “This isn’t a fashion spat at a luncheon. This is about leverage. And right now, we don’t have it.”

The silence that follows is tense, thick. Himari bites the inside of her cheek, her nails tapping faster now.

“What do you want me to do then?” she asks, frustrated. “Just wait around while she plays happy family with him? With that child?”

Emi snorts. “If you had done your job properly the first time, we wouldn’t be here. But now…” she tilts her head, a calculating gleam lurking in her eyes, “we take advantage of what she loves.”

“And what’s that?” Himari asks, venom on her tongue.

Kenji answers instead, calm and deliberate. “Her son.”

That shuts everyone up.

The silence hangs for a second too long, and then Emi, always the tactful one, breaks it with a smooth, almost bored, “You don’t touch the boy. You use the boy. It’s simple, really.” Haruka’s lips twist into a knowing smile. “Now that’s strategy.”

“I’ll accept as low as 730,000 yen,” Mei-Mei cooly states, leaning back leisurely in her chair. Legs crossed with a coy smile. “Last time, you low-balled me a bit. And it ended up causing quite a stir. I’m sure this will be even double that, so the lowest is 730,000.”

Across from the table sits an older man. Tapping his cane against the ground, his wrinkled face set into a constant grim expression. His eyes so dark, they look like hollows in his face. Bushy white brow just barely lifting as he hears her offer.

“Quite the offer for an audio tape,” Gakuganji expresses grimly.

Mei Mei’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it grows just slightly, thin, polished, dangerous. “It’s not just an audio tape,” she purrs. “It’s leverage. Undeniable. Unedited. The kind of thing that makes people resign overnight, or mysteriously disappear.” She leans forward, fingers lacing together on the table, her voice lowering but still smooth as silk. “730,000 is the price of convenience. Of silence. And I’m being generous.”

Gakuganji’s tapping stops. His cane stills, and his knuckles tighten around the curved handle. “You’re young,” he says, voice dry as gravel. “Too bold for your own good.”

“And you’re old,” she replies sweetly. “Too used to being feared to realize when someone’s already won.”

A long beat passes before Gakuganji chuckles under his breath, no humor in the sound. “You’ll learn the consequences eventually.”

Mei Mei’s eyes narrow, her tone still velvet. “I already have. That’s why I charge before I hand things over. And besides, you’ll learn too, won’t you? Considering I’ve been doing your dirty work for you for a few months now.”

“My hands are not dirty, yours are.”

“And so are my ears.” She easily adds. “Unfortunately for you, I haven’t been able to ear-hustle on much. Other people with higher bids have my attention more than you and your mysterious vendetta against the Gojo Group.”

“It’s not mysterious.”

“Then why them?”

Gakuganji’s eyes glint, though his expression remains carved from stone. “Because they’ve forgotten what it means to answer to someone.”

Mei Mei hums, unimpressed, brushing invisible lint from her lap. “You mean you.”

“I mean structure,” he grits out. “Power has rules. Lineage has purpose. And Satoru Gojo—” he leans in, voice dropping to a growl, “—spits on both. Just like his father before him. Just like his mother did in silence.”

She tilts her head, amused now. “So this is about old grudges? Bloodlines and bruised egos?”

He says nothing. Mei Mei lets out a light, airy laugh, reclining again. “Fascinating. And here I thought it was about money. Or maybe land. You’re boring when it’s personal, Gakuganji.”

His knuckles twitch again around the cane. “When it’s personal, Mei Mei, it’s permanent.”

She smiles again, cold and brilliant. “Then you’ll have to pay extra for permanence. I’m not cheap, and I don’t do charity for bitter old men.”

“This is a necessary execution. They believe they are worth more than everyone else. Especially Yamato’s devil spawn. He disrupts balance itself. Privileged, spoiled rotten, wealthy, and unfortunately…very smooth talking. Everyone bends to his will just because of his name.” Gakuganji gruffs out.

She lets out a quiet, amused hum. “Necessary and personal usually go hand in hand, old man. I just like to know who’s paying for what. There’s always something more beneath the price tag.”

His lips curl in distaste. “And there’s always someone like you, digging for the bones after the war.”

She smiles again, dazzling and cold. “Better than dying in it. So.” She taps her manicured nail against the table. “730,000. Or I hand the audio to someone with less of a vendetta and more imagination.”

Gakuganji’s eye twitches.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Mei Mei holds out her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you. Again.”

a/n: i’ll be releasing the first chapter of the levi fic after this. everyone who has commented to be on the taglist, u have been noted lol (i swear im not ignoring). anyway, hope u guys enjoyedddd :)

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wongyuseokie · 2 months ago

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Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 1: Love at First Collision

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 18,732 words im sorry i couldnt stop yapping

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: mentions of blood (nothing graphic), wonwoo is also yn's housemate, but they have a mildly flirty relationship. joshua cares too much about plants. strong language and mentions of food and alcohol. Y/N is pretty confused, quite lost in general about her feelings, and very much in denial. quite a bit of arguing, no one here is good with their emotions. Y/N will be very annoying here. I apologise, but the girl has trust issues. they go back and forth, I’m very sorry. she’s feeling insecure, but nothing too intense (she got sad because of alcohol). Smut Warnings: protected sex (sadly this happens once in the first chapter, and that’s it lol), oral (m & f receiving) big dick! Mingyu, because duh! Sex toy usage (using it on y/n and it’s a vibrator, it’s red if that helps?), multiple orgasms, overstimulation. Lots of spicy moments with a ton of teasing. Shower sex. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 1! Series Masterlist

“I am not picking up your tree, Joshua.” You held the phone to your ear, exasperated, as your best friend whined like a child on the other end.

“Y/N, please. First of all, she’s a plant, not a tree! Second, that plant is my baby. She can keep everything else in the breakup, but she’s not getting Lydia!”

You blinked. “You named a tree?”

“She’s a bonsai,” Joshua sniffled, voice wobbling with heartbreak. “And my bitch of an ex left her out on the front step to die. Lydia’s gonna freeze, Y/N.”

You sighed. “You’ve really lost it.”

“Nope. I gave her a human name on purpose. So now you feel guilty abandoning her.”

You groaned. “You’re emotionally manipulating me with a bonsai.”

Joshua smirked through the phone. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But I swear to God, if I have to hear about Julie one more time—”

“Nope! Just Lydia,” he said quickly. “Please rescue my plant baby. I love you, bye!”

The call ended before you could protest again. You let out another sigh, tossed your phone on the desk, and returned to your open document.

Writing had always been your dream—getting to pour your thoughts into something tangible, something that made people feel. You’d started at your company writing fluffy lifestyle pieces—“Make Your Apartment Your Sanctuary,” and “7 Houseplants That Won’t Die Instantly”—but lately, you'd taken control.

Now you led the Lifestyle and Well-Being column, tackling everything from relationship advice to self-love, and yes, even that viral review on the best adult toys on the market. The one that made your editor blush and your DMs explode.

You smiled faintly at the memory. You were making people feel seen—and that meant something.

“Done for the day?” Your boss asked, pausing by your desk.

“Yeah, you need me to stay late?”

“Nope. Just wanted to say—your latest article? Stellar.”

You beamed. “Thanks.” With a wave goodbye, you packed up and headed out—ready to play plant savior.

“Damn, she is cold,” you muttered, spotting the sad-looking bonsai on Julie’s icy doorstep. You scooped Lydia up like a wounded pet and drove her straight back to your apartment.

“Shua?” you called as you stepped inside.

“Lydia!” he gasped dramatically, leaping from the couch.

You blinked. “You greeted the plant before me?”

“And?” he said, completely unapologetic.

“I rescued it for you!”

“Can I water my girl first and hug you after?” he asked sweetly.

You laughed, tossing your bag onto the sofa. “Fine.” Ten minutes later, Joshua returned from the kitchen, Lydia perched happily on the windowsill and a bottle of wine in hand.

“She’s adjusting well to her new home,” he declared, pouring you both glasses. “And hydrated.”

“How nice,” you deadpanned. “Jealous of a plant now.”

“Oh, don’t pout. I’d hydrate you too, but unlike Lydia, the last time I sprayed you with the hose, you got mad.”

You snorted. “Why the hell is her name Lydia anyway?”

“She looked like one.”

You raised a brow. “Okay, then what do I look like?”

Joshua smirked. “Horny.”

You glared. “I will drown your bonsai in wine.”

He grinned. “C’mon, your last article must’ve left you a little pent up.”

“Shut up,” you said, throwing back your drink.

By the time the wine bottle was empty, you were curled into Joshua’s side on the couch, the warmth of alcohol and his comfort loosening your guard.

“Seriously though,” you murmured. “Why’d she dump you?”

He gave a bitter chuckle. “Said I was too nice.”

You blinked slowly. “Wait? How is that an issue?”

He smiled. “You’re drunk.”

“You always do that,” you muttered, suddenly pulling away.

“Do what?”

“Assume I’m just a drunken mess.”

“Well, right now you kind of are. And... you’re really close.”

You recoiled further. “Right. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” he groaned.

You didn’t answer. You just grabbed your phone instead.

Joshua sighed. “Okay, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

You poured yourself another glass—your third—just in time for Wonwoo, your other housemate, to walk through the door.

You were sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling over the edge, a half-empty wine glass resting when Wonwoo walked in, looking devastatingly handsome in his work attire.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his toned forearms, and a pair of perfectly tailored black trousers. His tie was slightly loosened, and his hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times. You couldn’t help but stare, your wine-hazed mind fixating on how effortlessly attractive he looked.

“Wow,” you murmured, not realising you’d said it out loud until Wonwoo’s eyes flickered over to you, a small, amused smile appearing on his lips.

“Did you just... wow me?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and shrugging off his coat.

You didn’t even have the decency to feel embarrassed. Instead, you just giggled and nodded, lifting your wine glass in a mock toast. “You look outstanding, Woo. Like, unfairly good.”

He arched a brow, walking into the living room and leaning against the arm of the couch, towering over you. “Have you been drinking alone?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “I started with Joshua, and then he got all snippy. But thankfully, you’re here now looking like a model from a GQ spread. Seriously, do you just walk around looking like that?”

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound low and almost too attractive for your mildly intoxicated state. “It’s called having a job, Y/N. You should try it sometime.”

You scoffed, pretending to be offended. “I have a job! I just... don’t have to wear a suit for it. Or look that good doing it.”

He gave you one of those half-smiles that made your heart thump. “You look pretty good right now. Maybe it’s just the wine talking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, poking his arm lightly. “Are you flirting with me? Or just being nice because I’m a little tipsy?”

He glanced at your wine glass, then at you, eyes softening. “A little of both, maybe.”

That made you giggle again, and you scooted over, patting the empty spot next to you. “Sit. You’ve been working all day. You deserve to relax.”

Wonwoo hesitated, but eventually lowered himself onto the couch, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned back. You could smell his cologne now, something warm and woodsy that made your stomach do a little flip.

“So,” he said gently, “what’s with the sad eyes? It’s Friday.”

“Joshua’s pissed at me, I think.”

Wonwoo nodded. “He’s not the best with drunk people.”

You pouted. “So you think I’m drunk too.”

“I think you’re not sober,” he teased, pulling you easily into his lap.

“You’re really pretty, you know,” you mumbled.

Wonwoo glanced at you, one brow raised, clearly fighting a smile. “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Am not,” you argued, sticking your tongue out. “I’m just being honest. You don’t get to be this attractive and not know it.”

He finally gave in to a full smile, one that made your heart flutter. “You really don’t hold back when you’re tipsy, do you?”

You shrugged, taking another sip. “Life’s too short to hold back. And you’re too pretty to not be told so.”

Wonwoo shook his head, but there was a fondness in his gaze that made you feel oddly comfortable. You let the silence fall between you, not awkward, just... nice.

He glanced down at your empty glass and gently took it from your hand, setting it on the coffee table. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight.”

You pouted but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “You’re really comfy too,” you mumbled.

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, almost as if it was second nature. “You’re a lot clingier when you’ve had a few drinks.”

You hummed in agreement, not really caring to defend yourself. “It’s because you’re nice to cling to.”

You smiled. “So you’re back home early on a Friday night, what happened, no hot date?”

“Nah, my job and its demands make it difficult to date, what about you? You wrote a very spicy article, did that not get you at least a few contenders to try out the toys in your article?”

You sighed. “ Shut up, and plus, I crave intimacy, not just a one-night stand.”

He paused. “Interesting.”

“Shh, let me sleep,” you mumbled as you curled more into his chest.

Wonwoo didn’t push you away, just let you rest against him, and you could have sworn you felt his thumb gently brush over your shoulder. Your heart beat a little faster, and you couldn’t help but smile, too comfortable to care about anything else at that moment.

As the show on TV changed to something else, Wonwoo sighed, seemingly more relaxed now that he’d settled in. “You’re lucky I don’t mind being your drunk pillow.”

You grinned, snuggling closer. “You secretly love it.”

He didn’t reply, but the soft chuckle that rumbled through his chest was answer enough.

You blinked. “Sure.”

~~ The next morning, you walked into a plant shop, hopeful that obnoxiously expensive and ornate plant would make up for the snippy exchange you and Joshua had last night. The bell above the door jingled as you approached the counter, pointing to a tiny bonsai in the window. “For a friend,” you said. “He likes plants?” The older man smiled. “He named his.” The man chuckled, gently wrapping the pot. “Plants are like people. They need the right love to thrive.” “Yeah,” you murmured. “Thanks.” ~~ You were returning back to the apartment, and you took a sudden turn–then froze.

“Oh, shit—” you yelped as the tiny bonsai smashed into someone’s face.

“FUCK,” he yelled, hands flying to his nose.

“Oh my god, I—your face—your plant! I’m so sorry!”

The man looked up, wincing. “You could have broken my nose. And you’re worried about the plant?”

“Do you live here?” You asked, noticing how he was standing outside the apartment door opposite yours, ignoring the blood.

“What?”

“I mean—can I help? Do you have ice?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Come in.”

Inside, he handed you his keys, too dazed to care.

“You’re very trusting,” you muttered, digging through his freezer.

“You already injured me. What more could you do?”

You found an ice pack and vodka, held up both. “You want comfort or numbness?”

“I’ll take both,” he mumbled, sitting down.

You pressed the pack to his nose. “What’s your name?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

“I’m Y/N.”

He cracked a pained smile. “So this is how you meet people? Assault first, names later?”

You laughed. “Only when I’m feeling flirty.”

“Cute,” he said, gently taking the ice pack from your hand.

You stared at the barely bleeding gash. “You’ll survive.”

“See this scar?” he pointed to one above his brow. “My sister gave me that. I can handle one pot-wielding girl.”

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly through the windows as you sat on Mingyu’s couch, nervously picking at a stray thread on your sweater. Mingyu plopped down next to you, a little too close, but you didn’t mind. His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned back, stretching his long legs out.

“So,” Mingyu said, flashing you a charming smile. “Now that I’ve lured you into my lair, I guess I should actually get to know you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? You planning to interrogate me?”

He shrugged, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. Gotta make sure my neighbor isn’t secretly plotting my demise. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out why you always look like you’re on a mission when you leave the building.”

You bit back a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean when I’m rushing to meet deadlines and not running a secret spy operation?”

Mingyu grinned. “Exactly. So what’s with all the late-night typing sessions? What do you do?”

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a writer. Lifestyle pieces mostly. A bit of everything — fashion, travel, relationships. It’s kind of like... whatever my editor thinks people are obsessed with that week.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “That sounds pretty cool. So you just... write about life?”

“Pretty much,” you said, relaxing into the couch. “Sometimes it’s advice columns, sometimes it’s think pieces. Occasionally, it’s lists of the top ten sex toys to spice up your love life.”

Mingyu choked on his drink, coughing as his cheeks flushed. “Wait... that was you?”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

He cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed but unable to hide his smirk. “I, uh... I might have read that article. Thought the writing was... bold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Bold, huh? Didn’t think that piece would be your go-to read.”

Mingyu grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t exactly on my list, but it popped up. It was one of those late-night ‘am I missing out on something’ moments.”

You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. “I didn’t peg you as the type to read lifestyle blogs.”

“I didn’t peg myself as one either,” he admitted. “But the writing was clever. Funny. Made it sound... approachable. I should’ve known it was you.”

You snorted. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving you a soft, lopsided smile. “You made it sound... less intimidating.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. “Well, I do aim to please.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully. “And here I thought I was the one trying to impress you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, leaning closer. “How’s that working out for you?”

He chuckled, eyes flickering to your lips for just a moment. “Jury’s still out. But I’m definitely intrigued.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you tried to play it cool. “What about you? What’s your thing?”

Mingyu gestured casually to the wall behind you, where a few framed photographs hung. You turned around, realizing you hadn’t noticed them before.

“They’re yours?” You asked, genuinely surprised.

He nodded, a bit shy now. “Yeah. I’m a photographer. Mostly freelance, but I’ve done some shows and a few magazine spreads. I guess I’m always chasing light and moments... like that one.” He pointed to a picture of a bustling street at sunset, the sky bleeding shades of pink and orange over the cityscape.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, stepping closer to look. “You really captured the way the city feels alive.”

Mingyu’s lips curved into a soft smile. “That’s the goal. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

You glanced back at him, raising a brow. “So, you just wander around looking for the perfect shot?”

He nodded, leaning back comfortably. “Pretty much. Sometimes it’s places. Sometimes it’s people. Anything that feels... real.”

You felt a little flutter in your chest at his words. “That’s kind of poetic.”

Mingyu smiled, a little bashful. “Didn’t mean to get all deep on you.”

You waved him off. “No, I like it. You’ve got this... thoughtful way of looking at things.”

He gave a little shrug, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Maybe I just know how to make things sound good. Photographer skills.”

You laughed. “And here I thought writers were the ones who spun stories.”

He leaned in just a bit, his voice low and playful. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

You met his gaze, your heart racing. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

Mingyu smirked, his fingers lightly brushing yours where they rested on the couch. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“So...” Mingyu leaned in, cocking his head. “If it’s not weird to ask, did you test all those toys out yourself or get reviews from others?” Your eyes widened. “A bit of both.”

“Interesting.”

“I guess you and your significant other can maybe test it out, and I can get more real-time feedback,” you suggested awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

He laughed. “Y/N, if I had a significant other, I wouldn’t be sitting here, very turned on, icing my face.”

You swallowed and laughed awkwardly.

An hour had passed, and you were still seated on Mingyu’s couch, the casual conversation flowing easily between you two. The warmth of his apartment wrapped around you, made cozier by the soft lighting that glowed from the corner lamp. Mingyu had moved closer at some point during your chat, and you couldn’t help but notice how his knee brushed against yours every now and then.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mingyu said, his smile widening as he leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

“You’ve managed to convince an entire city that they need to buy seven different types of pillows just to sleep better?”

You laughed, shrugging. “What can I say? The perfect sleep experience is an art. Plus, people like to feel a bit pampered. Who doesn’t love the idea of sinking into a mountain of plush pillows?”

“Fair point,” he conceded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You make it sound so luxurious, I almost feel bad for my one sad, flat pillow.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, that’s unacceptable. I think I have a new mission: upgrade your pillow situation.”

Mingyu chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as he reached for his drink on the coffee table. The simple touch sent a jolt of awareness through you, but you kept your expression calm.

“What about you?” You asked, trying to steer the focus away from how his touch made your skin tingle. “Aside from photography, what do you do when you’re not charming people with your art?”

Mingyu’s lips quirked up. “I cook. A lot. It’s therapeutic. Plus, I’m kind of a food snob.”

Your eyes lit up with intrigue. “You cook? Like, actual meals? Or are we talking ramen and scrambled eggs?”

He scoffed playfully. “Ramen? Please. I can make homemade pasta from scratch. You’d be impressed.”

“That’s a bold statement. I might have to hold you to it.”

He grinned, eyes glinting with a bit of challenge. “I’d love to prove it. But only if you promise to be an honest critic.”

You hummed, leaning in just slightly. “I’m always honest. Sometimes a little too honest.”

His eyes traced your features, lingering a little longer on your lips before darting back to your gaze. “I don’t mind honesty. It’s refreshing.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and you couldn’t help but notice how Mingyu’s hand had inched closer, resting on the back of the couch just behind your shoulder. The proximity made your pulse quicken, and you weren’t sure if it was the way his voice dropped a little lower or the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.

“So,” he said softly, voice almost a murmur, “would you ever do a part two for that sex toy article? ”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Why, do you have any suggestions?”

Mingyu raised his hands in mock surrender, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe; would you listen to them?”

You smirked. “Maybe; I am a very open-minded person,”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and this time, he didn’t look away. Mingyu leaned in just a fraction, testing the waters. “Oh? I think I’d like to get to know you better.”

Your breath caught at the implication, your heart thudding against your ribs. Mingyu’s hand moved from the back of the couch to gently brush your cheek, thumb tracing a light, comforting path along your jaw.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded slowly, your voice just as soft. “Yeah... It’s okay.”

He smiled, his lips curving into something almost relieved, before he closed the small distance between you. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, careful way. When you responded, pressing closer, he deepened the kiss slightly, his other hand moving to your waist.

The world seemed to melt away, and all you could feel was the warmth of his touch, the way his lips moved with yours like he’d been waiting to do this for a long time.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to catch your breath, Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“Worth the wait,” he murmured, his voice rough and sincere.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. “Definitely.”

“I guess I’m happy you almost broke my nose,” he murmured, leaning in slightly.

You let out a soft gasp when he kissed you again, making you melt against him.

“I want to hear that sound again,” he whispered, making you giggle, and you grinned, and he took it as a sign to further things.

He picked you up easily and carried you to his bedroom and onto his bed, settling you onto his lap like you belonged there. His lips never stopped moving against yours, each kiss more heated, more desperate.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were panting.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, voice lower, rougher now.

You nodded eagerly, lips parted, skin already flushed.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

A moan escaped before you could stop it.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, that smug smirk creeping back. “Ooh. Praise kink. Duly noted.”

His hands slid up your sides, under your dress, fingertips skating along your skin like he was unwrapping a gift.

“Can I?” He asked again, but this time, he was already tugging at the fabric.

“Please just do something,” you said, practically squirming in his lap, need pulsing through you like a heartbeat.

He laughed softly — a dark, delicious sound. “You’re adorable when you beg.”

Your dress slipped over your head and onto the floor in one swift motion.

“No bra?” He asked, amused.

“Didn’t feel like it matched the vibe,” you replied with a lazy shrug.

“Big fan of that choice,” he said, palming your breasts in his large hands, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch. His mouth followed, warm and wet, kissing and sucking until you were arching into him.

Then his hand drifted lower.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing these either,” he muttered, fingers brushing over the damp heat between your legs.

You let out a soft gasp, legs parting instinctively. “Can I feel you?” He asked again, voice a low rumble against your throat.

“Please,” you breathed, nearly trembling with how badly you needed him.

He slipped your underwear down slowly, teasing you, drawing this out like he enjoyed how desperate you were.

“Been a while?” He murmured, fingers sliding between your folds, making you jolt.

“Way too long,” you confessed, barely managing to speak.

He groaned. “Fuck, I want to taste you so badly, but some beautiful disaster smashed me in the face with a plant tonight.”

“There’s always next time,” you managed to say, breath hitching as he continued to tease your entrance with maddening patience.

“Oh? There’s going to be a next time?” He asked, cocky now.

“Depends if this time’s good,” you teased back.

He grinned, eyes dark. “Oh, sweetheart... it’ll be better than good.”

He lifted you off his lap, laid you gently on the bed like you were something breakable. You watched him undress — slow, purposeful — revealing long lines of muscle and the kind of body that made your mouth water.

When his boxers hit the floor, you let out an involuntary, “Fuck.”

“You keep flattering me; I might forget we’re not in love yet,” he joked, grabbing a condom from the drawer and rolling it on.

“Mingyu,” you moaned, writhing on the sheets, “please, I just need to feel you inside me.”

He froze, eyes wide.

“Won’t it hurt if I don’t—”

“Dude,” you cut in, voice raw. “I’ve been in a dry spell so long I’m practically a desert. Just fuck me.”

He blinked. “Did you just ‘dude’ me while begging for dick?”

“Yes, and your boner better survive it,” you shot back.

He laughed — hard — but that laugh turned into a groan as he lined himself up and slowly pushed inside you.

Your body arched like a live wire had touched it.

“Fucking hell,” he gritted out. “You’re so tight.”

You gasped, fingers digging into the sheets as he bottomed out.

He started moving — slow, deep thrusts that had you babbling nonsense within seconds. One of his hands slid between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing just the right way.

“I can’t... I’m gonna—” you whimpered, already spiraling.

“Let go. Come on, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmured.

And that was it.

You came hard, shaking, crying out as your body clenched around him. A few rough thrusts later, Mingyu groaned, burying himself deep as he spilled into the condom.

He collapsed on top of you, his face pressed to your chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, still panting.

“You’re amazing. Thank you.”

He looked over at you, one brow raised. “Are you... thanking me for sex?”

“I mean, yeah? That was better than therapy.”

He laughed, brushing a strand of hair off your face. “I still owe you one. My hands and tongue haven’t even had their turn yet.”

Your eyes widened.

“Unless this was a one-time ‘itch to scratch’ situation?” He added, voice quiet now.

You smiled, slow and wicked. “I think we can definitely make it happen again.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Just... next time, maybe don’t lead with blunt force trauma.”

You grinned. And said,“No promises.”

“I should get going,” you murmured, reluctantly sitting up and scanning the room for your scattered dignity — aka your dress and underwear.

Mingyu nodded, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you move. “Yeah. I mean... this wasn’t exactly how I imagined meeting my neighbors, but I’m not complaining.”

You grinned as he tossed your underwear to you with a lazy smirk and handed you your dress like it was some ceremonial robe.

“How do I look?” You asked, smoothing your hair and tugging the dress into place.

“Stunning,” he said, eyes dragging over you with no shame. “But also, like you just got thoroughly fucked.”

You groaned, covering your face. “Great. Just the look I was going for.”

“Hey, it’s just a few steps across the hall. Embrace the walk of pride,” he teased.

You paused, glancing at the door. “Should I help you finish unpacking? You still have boxes everywhere.” He shook his head. “Nah. Go get rid of that plant for your housemates before you break another part of me.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Oh that’s a good idea, I have a weapon in my hand.”

Mingyu reached for your wrist and pulled you into a kiss — slow, sweet, and way too tender for a one-night stand. It left you blinking when he pulled away.

“What was that for?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You had that look — like you were overthinking everything. Just wanted to remind you I’m not a dick.”

You bit your lip, smiling. “No... just a guy with a really nice one.”

He laughed, low and raspy, and you forced yourself to peel away before you crawled right back into bed with him.

“See you,” you said, pausing at the door for just a second longer than necessary.

You slipped out, gathered your things with whatever grace you had left, and padded barefoot across the hall to your own apartment — slightly sore, definitely smug, and still tasting him on your lips.

“Oh my God, you’re alive!” Joshua gasped, immediately pulling you into a hug. Then he squinted, nose crinkling. “Wait—why are you sweaty?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, lounging by the counter. “Your dress is on backwards.”

You groaned, tugging at the fabric. “Okay, you nosy bitches, can I at least shower first?”

Joshua tilted his head like a puppy. “So… who’d you fuck?”

You glared at him, cheeks heating. “Our new neighbor. And for the record, I accidentally smashed a bonsai into his face first.”

Joshua blinked. “Why did you have a bonsai?”

You shrugged. “Felt bad. Thought a peace plant might help.” His expression softened. “We’re good, really. But damn. You broke his face, and he broke your back? That’s some poetic symmetry.”

You groaned again, stalking toward the bathroom. “I need a shower. Don’t go anywhere—I’ll be back with way too many details.”

Both men nodded eagerly, already settling in like a live show was coming

~~ You were halfway into post-shower bliss, freshly changed and just barely reclaiming some dignity when there was a soft knock at your bedroom door.

“Can I come in?” You heard Wonwoo’s voice ask.

You glanced up and smiled. “Yeah, come in.” You patted the empty spot on the bed beside you.

“Did I disturb you?” He asked, motioning toward your open laptop and mess of notes.

“Not really. Just I was brainstorming, earlier,”

Wonwoo settled beside you, his presence warm and familiar. “Maybe write about your latest hookup?” He teased with a slight edge in his voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay, what’s with that tone?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d want to maybe ask me instead? Weren’t we sort of flirting last night? I don’t just pull everyone onto my lap. But I guess the hot neighbour is who you prefer? What if he’d been a serial killer?”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “I literally knocked him out with a plant. Pretty sure he wasn’t in a position to hurt me.”

Wonwoo flopped back on your bed, arms spread wide. “So that’s it? He read your article, got turned on, and you jumped his bones?”

You snapped your laptop closed and sighed. “Why are you sounding so judgmental?”

He rolled his head toward you. “I was just worried, okay? What if he was a creep?”

You softened a little, scooting closer. “He’s not. He’s nice. Chill.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Okay. So... was he good?”

You laughed. “He's, um... big.”

One of Wonwoo’s eyebrows arched. “That’s not a skill, Y/N. Did he use his hands? Or, you know, go down on you?”

You gave him a pointed look. “His nose was still swollen from my plant assault. He was doing me a favor, not trying to win Olympic gold in oral.”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “What, were his hands broken too?”

You huffed. “Look, I was desperate. Dry spell hell. He solved the problem. Can you stop interrogating me?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Besides, why do you care who I hook up with?”

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Since it’s some random guy who lives next door, and you’re acting like you’ve known him forever. You can’t just trust people like that, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “He’s not a random guy. He’s a new neighbor. It’s not like I’m inviting a complete stranger into my life.”

“He kind of is a stranger,” Wonwoo argued, stepping closer. “You don’t know what he’s like, what his deal is. You’re smarter than this. You shouldn’t just let someone into your life because they’re charming or whatever.”

You crossed your arms defensively. “Why do you even care? It’s not like it affects you.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes softened just a little. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt. You always rush into things, thinking it’s all fun and games. Not everyone’s going to be what they seem.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sound like a dad, Woo.”

Wonwoo’s face flushed slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m serious. Just... be careful. I’m just looking out for you.”

You softened a bit at his concern, realizing he was only trying to protect you. “I appreciate it, really. But I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid.”

His expression was a mix of frustration and something else — something intense that you couldn’t quite place. Before you could think about it too much, he took a step closer, his hand lifting like he was going to cup your cheek, but he hesitated, fingers hovering near your jaw.

You felt your breath hitch, your eyes flicking from his hand to his eyes. “Wonwoo...”

His gaze dipped to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you grew thick with unspoken tension. It felt like everything slowed down, and your pulse raced at the thought of him closing the distance.

But just as he seemed to make up his mind, his phone rang, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a knife. Wonwoo cursed softly, stepping back and fishing his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah?” he answered, his voice suddenly tight. He glanced at you, eyes regretful. “I... I have to take this. Work.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, trying to act unaffected. “Right. Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a beat longer before nodding and walking out of the room to take the call. You stayed rooted to the spot, heart pounding, wondering just what would have happened if that phone hadn’t interrupted.

You flopped back on the bed, groaning into your pillow. Not only were you aroused, you were annoyed. You knew if you stayed here, you'd either break out one of your new toys or spiral into another pity party.

You grabbed your laptop, shoved it in your bag, and got dressed. A café. That was the move. Coffee, background chatter, and maybe a splash of wine. Anything to reset your brain. ~~ You were halfway through your first glass when a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up. Mingyu. Those eyes.

“Uh... no,” you said, blinking. “I mean—yeah, sit. Please.”

He chuckled. “You can say no if it’s weird. I won’t cry. Promise.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. Have a seat.”

He settled in beside you, pulling out his own laptop like it was the most casual thing in the world. You tried to focus. You really did. “Y/N?” He asked suddenly. “Hm?” “Do you hate your laptop?” You blinked. “No? Why?” He sipped his drink and gestured to your keyboard. “Because it sounds like you’re trying to kill it.” You stared at your fingers. “Seriously?” “I mean, you’re not typing—you’re committing keyboard homicide.” You sighed. “I’m just wound up.” “Want to talk about it?” You glanced at him, then nodded. “My housemate got nosy about us. Asked a bunch of judgmental questions. Then offered to do what you didn’t do, and right when he’s about to kiss me... boom. Call. He leaves. I’m left... frustrated.” Mingyu tilted his head. “What I didn’t do?” You swallowed. “Like... go down on me. Use your hands.” Mingyu leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Ah. That.” “My nose was a mess that night,” he explained. “And if I’m going down on someone, I want to enjoy it. I don’t want to half-ass it through a sinus headache.” You nodded slowly. “It wasn’t a complaint. It just—he made it sound like you were reluctant.” “Well, he doesn’t know me; I am never reluctant. Just injured with a bonsai.” “Well then, let me get this straight.” You leaned back with a smirk. “You’re annoyed because you were offered ‘better’ sex, didn’t get it, and now you’re taking it out on your poor laptop?” Mingyu blinked at you, and then you gave a slow nod. “More or less.” You grinned, and he took a step closer. “Lucky for you, I don’t tend to get phone calls mid-orgasm. Want me to help… ease that frustration?” Your breath caught. “I’m still writing.” “How many words?” You pouted. “Five. Just the title.” “Exactly.” He flashed a grin. “You’re wound up. Let me help.” “Give me like 1 hour more. I’m sure I can write,” you insisted, making Mingyu grin as he leaned back on the chair and played on his phone, with a knowing smirk, almost as if he knew you would not be able to get any work done now, considering how tightly wound up you were.

~~ “You’re not writing anything, are you?” Mingyu tilted his head at your laptop screen, clearly unimpressed. “I’m trying,” you muttered, snapping the laptop shut. “But it’s like my brain’s been replaced with mashed potatoes.” “Then come with me.” “To where?” “We’re going pub crawling. It’ll help you unwind.” You blinked. “It’s three in the afternoon.” He shrugged. “Perfect time to study the science of types. Dating, attraction, weird flirting tactics—there’s no better place than a pub.” “So this is pure science?” “Exactly,” he said. You groaned but grabbed your bag anyway. “Fine. But if we get sloppy drunk, I’m blaming you.” Mingyu grinned and offered you his hand. “Deal.”

~~ “Okay, she’s definitely into him,” Mingyu whispered over the rim of his pint, leaning toward you at the crowded corner booth. You peeked over at the couple across the bar. “How can you tell?” “She’s playing with her straw. That’s peak first-flirt body language. But watch—he’s not making eye contact.” “He’s staring at her chest,” you confirmed, rolling your eyes. “Typical.” Mingyu chuckled. “He’s either nervous or an idiot.” “Or both.” You sipped your wine and leaned back against the leather seat, your shoulder brushing his. Neither of you moved away. The buzz in your veins wasn’t just from the alcohol—it was from him. “You’re good at this people-watching thing,” you said. “Like, weirdly good.” “I’m a photographer. I notice things.” “You should’ve warned me you were charming.”

“I did,” he said, nudging your thigh under the table. “You just didn’t believe me.” You fought a smile and looked away. “What else do you notice?” “Right now?” He murmured, his voice low and smooth. “You’re tipsy. And you’re wondering what happens next.” You turned to him slowly. “What does happen next?” Mingyu grinned. “We go back to mine. Pizza, movie... whatever else comes naturally.” You raised a brow. “Smooth.” “Just honest.” And somehow, you found yourself in a cab minutes later, curled up against his side, letting yourself lean in just a little too close. The city lights passed in blurs, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or Mingyu’s hand on your thigh making you feel weightless. “Are you always this cuddly when you drink?” Mingyu's voice was soft against your ear as he helped you out of the cab. His hand stayed on your lower back, steady and warm as you made your way up the building steps. “I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, swaying just slightly. “You’re not not drunk,” he teased, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. “Shut up,” you said, but you were already laughing. “And for the record, I’m always this cuddly. Alcohol just makes me more velcro-like.” Mingyu smiled as he unlocked the door to his apartment, ushering you inside. “Welcome to my humble, semi-furnished, testosterone-fueled abode.” “I thought you said your roommates moved in?” “They did. You’ll meet them—eventually.” He kicked off his shoes and walked ahead of you toward the kitchen. You hovered awkwardly in the living room, suddenly very aware of how intimate this was. Mingyu in his home. You in his space. “Water?” He called from the kitchen. “Please.” You accepted the glass he handed you, your fingers brushing his. The contact sent a small spark down your spine. “So...” he said, settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. “Wanna tell me how many words you wrote today?” You narrowed your eyes at him as you sat down. “Why are you like this?” “Charming? Helpful? Irresistible?” “Insufferable,” you corrected, even though a smile tugged at your lips. “Still better than mashed potatoes for brains.” “Low blow.” He nudged you again, and you nearly spilled your water from how close you were suddenly sitting. His thigh pressed into yours—and that’s when it hit you. His thigh. Solid. Warm.

Unmoving. And then he flexed it. You choked slightly. Mingyu looked amused. “What?”

“Stop doing that,” you hissed. “Doing what?”

“That thing with your leg.”

“Oh?” He leaned in, grinning. “You mean this?”

He flexed again, and you tried not to squirm.

“You’re evil,” you muttered.

“You’re the one sitting on my thigh.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “I’m not sitting—” “You are,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “And I think you like it.”

You swallowed hard, heat curling low in your stomach. “Shut up.”

“I could make you feel better, you know.”

You turned toward him slowly. “I didn’t say I was feeling bad.”

“Then let me make you feel even better.”

His hand moved gently to your hip.

“You sure?” he asked, gaze sincere, voice quieter now.

You nodded, breath catching.

Mingyu smiled, pulled you fully into his lap—and the rest of your thoughts disappeared.

“Besides, I want to taste you,” Mingyu murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Say something?” You nodded, breath catching. “Yes.”

Mingyu smirked. “Good girl.”

You whimpered. “Oh no, praise kink. Dangerous game.” He grinned at you, full of teasing and promise, and led you back to his bedroom. You followed without question.

“Hey, nice,” you said, looking around his space. “You got the place set up.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said, casually kicking off his shoes. “I had help from someone, but we ended up fucking, so—she wasn’t that helpful.”

You shot him a glare. “Charming.”

“Sit.”

You did. He peeled off his hoodie in one fluid motion, revealing his bare chest.

“You just walk around looking like that?”

“Problem?”

“None,” you said, blinking hard. “Just—wow.”

“Tell me what you like. Move my head, stop me if it’s too much, too fast—just say the word.”

You nodded as he leaned in and kissed you, slow and teasing. You pulled back.

“Wait.”

Mingyu raised a brow, but you stood and started undressing.

“Stop,” he said. “Let me.”

You sat back, breath uneven. He knelt in front of you, his fingers working the clasp of your bra. The straps fell like they were made to. He tossed the fabric aside before wrapping his lips around your nipple, warm tongue flicking against the sensitive skin. His other hand massaged your other breast in perfect sync. You whimpered as he switched sides, giving both equal attention, his lips dragging heat from your skin.

“Oh, I love those sounds,” he murmured against your chest, lips brushing your sternum.

He hooked his fingers into your panties and slid them down, tossing them somewhere across the room.

“If I can’t find those later, I’m blaming you. They were one of my favorites.”

“You’ll survive,” he said, just before he kissed your clit.

Your hips bucked.

“Right there?”

You nodded, breathless.

He smirked against you, arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you still. You weren’t going anywhere—not when he was just getting started.

He traced slow, deliberate circles over your clit with his tongue. Unwavering. Steady.

“You’re good at this,” you moaned.

“Also... was that my name in cursive on your clit?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.”

Mingyu didn’t let up—his tongue kept working you through every shaky gasp. You came hard, trembling in his grip. He didn’t stop. Not even when you cried out, not even when you begged. He sucked on your clit like it was oxygen. You came again, legs twitching, hand buried in his hair.

When he finally pulled back, you were wrecked—back slouched into the cushions, breathing heavy.

“So?”

“Amazing,” you whispered, blinking up at the ceiling.

You turned toward him, your fingers drifting to the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to,” he said.

“I know,” you replied. “I want to.”

He helped you slide them down, then hissed as you palmed his cock through his boxers.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, voice ragged. “Noted.”

You pulled him free and tried not to moan at the sight. He was thick, flushed, and already leaking. You licked his tip and smiled when his hips jerked forward.

“Fuck,” he muttered as you took him deeper. What you couldn’t fit, you made up for with your hand.

When you started massaging his balls, he gasped. “Shit. Shit. Baby, I’m gonna—”

You didn’t stop.

He groaned loudly, head falling back, fingers gripping the sofa as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, letting your tongue tease his tip one last time.

Mingyu collapsed back into the cushions, chest heaving. “That was... wow.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed and body warm, still glowing from the attention he’d given you minutes ago. He looked at you, all awe and affection. “You know,” he said, voice still breathless, “I should’ve invited you over way sooner.”

You were laughing, but the second you finished laughing, suddenly the afterglow of your orgasm had dimmed, and you were painfully aware of how naked you were.

“Hey… you okay?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet, and your eyes flicked to him as you instinctively grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to your bare chest. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, hoping your shyness wasn’t obvious. “Oh.” Mingyu stood, then paused. “Wait.” He turned the lights off, casting the room in soft shadows. “I can’t see much now, but I’ll just—”

He handed you his shirt blindly. “Here. You can use this.” “Thanks,” you murmured, slipping it on fast and clinging to the extra bit of coverage. The lights flicked back on, and Mingyu gave you a reassuring smile. “You can relax. I wasn’t trying to get you out of it again.” You gave a breathy laugh, still a little too self-conscious to meet his gaze.

“It was fun,” he added casually. “I mean... not that I’m saying we should do it again. Unless you want to. But not because I expect—shit, this is coming out wrong.”

You tilted your head at him. “You think?” “I’m just saying, I wasn’t expecting anything,” he backtracked. “You’re beautiful. And I’m not... trying to mess with your head or anything.” “Thanks for the orgasms,” you said dryly, tugging your jeans on. Mingyu flinched, clearly caught off guard. “Okay. That’s fair. I deserved that.” You bent down to grab your shirt and looked up at him with a narrowed stare. “Right. Because you’re so emotionally competent.” “I never claimed to be,” he said, his voice tight now. “Look, we barely know each other. It was just sex. You don’t have to get all weird about it.” You stood up, heart thudding now—not from embarrassment, but from frustration. “I’m not weird about it. But you are clearly trying to backpedal hard enough to twist your ankle.” “Okay, fine,” he snapped, raising his hands. “I’ll go. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He rolled his eyes as he walked out. You didn’t stop him. Not when you were that close to tearing up. You didn’t know why it suddenly affected you; you knew you had some slight issues with confidence and doubted yourself quite a bit; you just didn’t expect to get like that during a casual hook-up. ~~ You slammed the door behind him, then stormed into your own apartment. “Y/N?” Joshua looked up from the couch. “Not now,” you muttered, brushing past him and heading straight for your bedroom. You could still hear Mingyu’s voice echoing in your head. “It was just sex.” Fucking idiot. You paced for a moment before throwing yourself down on the bed. The knock at your door came less than five minutes later. You cracked it open to see Mingyu standing sheepishly, holding a paper bag. “I had to think of an excuse,” he said, offering it. “Your bra’s in here.” You sighed and took the bag from him. “You came back for my bra?” “I didn’t want to leave things like that, Bambi eyes let me in, I didn’t catch his name,” he admitted. “That’s Joshua; he let you in.” Mingyu glanced around. “Can I sit?” You pointed to the bed, and he eased down onto the edge. “Why did you come back?” “I’m shit at this. At saying things right. I always talk like an idiot when I’m... nervous.” You blinked. “You’re nervous?” Mingyu shrugged. “You make me nervous.” For a second, you just stared at him. Then, you said, “Stay.” He looked up. “What?” You crossed your arms. “Stay. Talk. Don’t leave again acting like we both didn’t enjoy that and like we don’t enjoy spending time with each other.” He exhaled a long breath, then nodded. “For what it’s worth,” Mingyu said, voice suddenly softer, “you have nothing to be shy about.”

You held his gaze for a beat, then gave a small smile. “Look, we started this all in the wrong order. You wanted to be friends…”

“Friends,” Mingyu repeated, eyes flicking around the room before landing on a small red object.

“Is that what I think it is?”

You groaned. “Oh my god, can you not—”

“A vibrator?” he grinned, walking over to grab it. “In plain sight?”

“Give it back.”

“Or…” he smirked, turning it over in his hand. “I could show you how sorry I am?”

Your mouth went dry. “What happened to ‘just friends’?”

“We can start that tomorrow.”

That was all the warning you got before he was on you, kissing you like he meant it. You tugged him closer by his shirt, falling back onto the bed as he slipped his hand down and popped the button of your jeans. You kicked them off along with your panties. His knuckles grazed your slick folds.

“You’re still soaked,” he said against your lips, eyes flicking down your body like you were art.

He pulled your shirt over your head.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

You smiled softly as he began kissing his way down, slow and reverent.

He turned the vibrator on and dragged it gently along your folds. “Shit,” you hissed, hips jerking as the cold metal touched your clit.

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling just right as the vibrator buzzed against your swollen clit. The sensation was overwhelming—fast and dizzying, his fingers moving steadily, the toy pressed right where it needed to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, digging your nails into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Mingyu whispered. “You take my fingers so well.”

Your body trembled, your thighs starting to shake as the pleasure built.

You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut. “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Mingyu smirked, kissing the inside of your thigh as you fell apart on his hand.

He pulled his fingers out and raised them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

“So… friends?”

You were still panting. “Yeah. Friends.” “Uh-huh.” He grinned. “Need help with that?” He nodded toward the very visible bulge in his pants.

You sat up slowly. “No thanks. That’s not what friends are for.”

“I’m saying no,” he said dramatically, “but it’s not my cock’s decision. He says yes.”

You giggled, giving his thigh a light slap.

Mingyu leaned in and kissed your forehead. “See you later, friend.”

You nodded, still dazed.

“Oh—by the way,” he added as he reached the door, “my housemates get back this weekend. We’re throwing a party. Chill night, drinks, people meeting people. Bring your housemates if you’re free?” You smiled, still trying to catch your breath.

“See you around, Gyu.”

He winked and closed the door behind him. ~~ Later that evening, you emerged from your bedroom to find Joshua smirking at you over a mug of tea. “What?” You asked, suspicious. He raised his eyebrows. “You moan loudly.” Your jaw dropped. “I was trying to keep it down!” “Yeah, no. Wonwoo thought you were a wounded animal at first.” You gasped, mortified. “I don’t moan that loudly.” Joshua gave you a pitying look. “You don’t think you do, but when you suppress it, it comes out like a dying banshee.” You groaned and dropped your head onto the counter. “Wait, did... Wonwoo hear?” Joshua nodded slowly, sipping his tea. “He might have been concerned for your well-being.” You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just great.” “So,” he said, voice light, “you and hot plant guy...?” “Friends,” you interrupted quickly. “We decided to just be friends.” Joshua arched a brow. “After that performance?” “It’s complicated. We don’t know each other well enough not to accidentally hurt each other.” Joshua tilted his head. “Wise.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. “Still, I need to talk to Wonwoo.” “To apologise? You know you don’t owe him one; you do whatever you want and whoever you want.” “I don’t owe him an apology, but I could at least apologise for the noise,” you said. “But... yeah. Kinda feels like the decent thing to do.” You hovered outside Wonwoo’s door before knocking gently and peeking in. “Wonwoo?” He looked up from his book. “Yeah?” You gulped. He was in grey sweats and a white shirt, lounging like some kind of soft-focus fantasy. “You’re drooling,” he said with a smirk. You groaned and walked inside, flopping onto the bed beside him. “I came to say sorry.” He shut the book, raising an eyebrow. “For what? Your gorgeous moaning? If anything, I should apologize for interrupting it with my concern.” You hid your face behind your hands. “You’re unbearable.” “Relax. You don’t owe me an apology. We’re not dating.” “Still. It wasn’t to get back at you or anything. I was just... left very frustrated.” Wonwoo chuckled. “That was entirely my fault. Work called.” You tilted your head, your eyes softening. “Mingyu and I agreed to just be friends. No feelings. No strings. Which... honestly? Sounds like the safest plan.” He looked at you for a beat. “And what about me?” “I know you,” you said softly. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” Wonwoo didn’t respond. He just reached forward, tugging you until you were curled up against his chest.

“You left me horny,” you whispered, teasing. “I know. I’m sorry. You deserved better.” There was a long pause before he added, “So… you two are done?” You nodded. “Yeah.” “Then,” he said, his hand brushing lightly at the strap of your top, “What if I just, you know, carry on from what happened earlier? I did get rudely interrupted with a phone call, and I believe I owe you a kiss.” You laughed. “Oh, yes you do.” Wonwoo smirked. “Only if he can see how gorgeous you look right now.” You leaned in, your lips close to his. “Can you do something?” “Patience is a virtue,” he whispered. “It’s not one of mine.” He grinned. “Very true.” And then his lips were on yours—soft, slow, deliberate. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I’ve got an article to finish,” you said reluctantly. “We’re good?” He asked. “We’re good.” You smiled, standing up. He smiled at you lazily, and you practically skipped back to your room.

~~ The next afternoon, you were in your local cafe, still stuck with the same five words you typed out yesterday on your laptop. However, you were laser-focused and attempting to write a new sentence about emotional risk versus reward when a voice interrupted you. “What is a ‘type,’ and why do we stick to it?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Mingyu! A warning would be nice!” He grinned as he slid into the seat across from you at the café table. “But you’re so jumpy—it’s adorable.” “Oh, please. Just sit, why don’t you.”

“I intend to,” he said, already making himself at home.

“So what brings you here? Stalking me?”

“I could ask you the same. Who sits in my usual spot with a laptop and sulks?”

“Writer’s block,” you admitted, closing your screen.

“Want to fix that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How?”

Mingyu grinned. “We grab a drink and talk about our dumbest hook-ups.” ~~ The bar was buzzing with low chatter and clinking glasses as you and Mingyu sat across from each other in a cosy booth, the soft amber glow from the hanging lights making his eyes look even warmer. You were on your third cocktail of the afternoon, feeling just the right amount of tipsy to start leaning into the silly side of the conversation.

Mingyu was nursing a beer, his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol, or maybe it was just the comfortable atmosphere. You twirled your straw around in your glass before looking up at him with a playful grin.

“So, since we’re already a few drinks in,” you began, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I propose we play a game.”

Mingyu arched a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “What kind of game?”

You took a sip of your drink before answering. “We trade stories. Dumb hookups, silly dates – basically all the weird romantic escapades that made us question humanity.”

Mingyu chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Alright, I’m game. But only if you go first.”

You mock-pouted. “Why me first?”

“Because you suggested it, and I’m curious,” he shot back, smirking.

Rolling your eyes, you thought back to your dating history, settling on one that still made you cringe. “Fine. So, there was this one guy I met on a dating app – let’s call him Jay. We went to this fancy rooftop bar, and I’m thinking, ‘Okay, this could be good.’ About thirty minutes in, he starts telling me about his extensive Funko Pop collection. Like, I mean... hundreds. And he insisted on showing me every single one through a photo album on his phone. At one point, he even teared up while talking about a limited edition Batman figure.”

Mingyu snorted into his beer, trying not to choke from laughing. “No way.”

“Yes way! And it got worse. At the end of the night, he asked me if I wanted to ‘meet them’ at his apartment. Like, not him – them.” You groaned, shaking your head at the memory. “I made some excuse about needing to water my plants and just bolted.”

Mingyu was practically wheezing at that point, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You dated a Funko Pop guy. I’m never letting you live this down.”

You pointed at him. “Your turn, Mr. Judgy.”

He composed himself, taking a deep breath. “Alright. I went out with this girl from college once. Really pretty, seemed really cool. We went to a casual pizza place, and everything was great... until the food arrived. She took one bite, looked at me dead in the eyes, and said, ‘I think I might be a vampire.’”

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh, but he just stared at you, completely serious.

“Wait, what?” You finally said.

“Yeah,” Mingyu continued, leaning back against the booth. “She told me that eating anything but red meat made her feel sick, and she’s been craving ‘blood’ lately. She asked me if I’d ever wanted to bite someone, just to know what it tasted like.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, practically folding over in the booth. “You’re lying.”

“I swear!” Mingyu said, holding up his hands defensively. “She kept making weird comments about how pale I was and how ‘good my veins looked.’ I never got out of a restaurant faster in my life.”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Okay, you win. That’s worse than the Funko Pop guy.”

Mingyu grinned, obviously pleased. “Yeah, I still get chills thinking about it.”

You leaned back, feeling a little more relaxed now that the conversation had taken a lighthearted turn. The music in the bar changed to something more upbeat, and you tapped your fingers against your glass.

“So, what about the serious ones?” Mingyu asked, his tone shifting slightly.

You paused, your smile faltering just a little. “You mean serious relationships?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Just... curious.”

You took a deep breath. “I was with someone for about a year and a half. Thought it was going somewhere real, you know? Turns out he was cheating on me for months. Found out through his phone – he was so careless; he didn’t even bother deleting the texts.”

Mingyu’s playful expression faded, his brows knitting together in concern. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “It sucked at the time. Felt like my whole self-worth got thrown out the window. But I learned from it. Learned how to be a little more careful with my heart.”

He reached across the table, placing his hand over yours. The warmth of his touch grounded you, and you glanced up to see him giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“You didn’t deserve that. No one does,” he said softly.

You squeezed his hand back. “Thanks. I guess I’m still trying to figure out how to trust people again.”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before speaking, “I guess I’ll have to be very careful then.”

You met his eyes, suddenly feeling a little exposed but in a good way, and giving him a soft smile not sure how to answer him.

You took a second and then spoke. “And you? Any serious relationships?”

Mingyu hesitated, looking thoughtful. “There was one. A few years ago. We were together for almost two years, but we just... drifted apart. I guess I realized we were more comfortable than in love. It hurt, but it made me realize I don’t want to settle for just comfort. I want something real.”

You felt your heart soften at his honesty. “Yeah. I get that.”

The conversation hung between you, both of you wrapped in the honesty of the moment. The vulnerability, the ease of being real with each other – it made your stomach flip in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mingyu took a sip of his beer, his hand still holding yours, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this could be the kind of real you both wanted. ~~ By the time you both left the bar, you were walking arm-in-arm. Your heels clicked against the pavement, your head light with wine and conversation. “Okay, I’ll admit,” you said, “this was fun.” “More than writing five words and calling it an article title?” You smacked his arm. “Rude but true.” “Come on,” he said, flagging down a cab. “My place. Pizza and Finding Nemo?” “Nemo?” “It’s a classic.” “Big baby.” “Don’t hate on soft men,” he said as the cab pulled up. “We cry, but we cuddle like champs.” You laughed all the way into the taxi. ~~ “Here you go,” Mingyu said, handing you a soft black shirt.

“Thanks.” You stood up to change without thinking, but froze mid-movement when you realized he was still watching you.

“Whoa—wow maybe warn a guy, I almost got blinded by your beauty?” His eyes were wide.

You paused, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I just figured… I mean, you’ve seen everything before.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, stepping toward you. “It’s a fantastic view.”

You smiled sheepishly as you peeled off your shirt. Mingyu took it gently from your hands and set it on the bed, his gaze still lingering but soft. When you moved to take off your jeans, he helped again—quiet, respectful, but definitely appreciating every second.

“Need another shirt?” He asked, catching your hesitation.

“No, I just… I’m wearing a very uncomfy bra.” “Then don’t,” he replied simply. You raised a brow at him. “Want to help me get it off?” His grin widened. “Weren’t we just trying this whole ‘friends’ thing?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping closer, “and friends help each other.”

He didn’t need further convincing. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you into him. “That they do,” he murmured against your skin. His fingers moved up your back, undoing your bra clasp with practiced ease. The straps slipped from your shoulders like silk.

“Do you want me to fold this nicely with the rest of your clothes?” He teased, voice low and amused.

“Don’t push it,” you smirked.

“You’re cold,” he said, fingers grazing over your hardened nipples.

“Am not,” you muttered.

“Then are you turned on?”

You raised a brow. “And if I say no?”

“I’d find out anyway,” he murmured. “One finger, and I could prove it.”

You didn’t respond, just held his gaze.

Mingyu took that as permission. His hand slipped down your stomach, easing into your panties until a long finger slid inside you.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered.

You gasped as his finger curled just right. “Do you want to cum?”

You nodded quickly, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb found your clit.

He pulled his finger out with a sinful smirk. “Good. Then get on the bed.”

You climbed back onto his bed, legs slightly shaky. Mingyu knelt between your thighs and dragged your panties down in one smooth motion. His hands pressed your thighs open as he lowered his mouth to your core.

“Fuck,” you gasped when his tongue flicked your clit.

“Mingyu, wait—”

He immediately looked up, concern flashing in his eyes. “Too much?”

You shook your head, already lifting your leg to press against the hard line of his bulge. “No. I just—need you.”

His pupils darkened instantly. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Please fuck me.”

He made quick work of his belt and shirt, tossing them aside. “If I don’t eat you out, Wonwoo’s going to call me a selfish asshole.”

You groaned, laughing breathlessly. “Screw that. Just get in me.”

Mingyu climbed onto the bed, lined himself up with your entrance, and paused.

“Wait—condoms?”

“I have an implant.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Mingyu. Please.”

“At least you said please,” he grinned, and then he pushed into you with a low groan.

You clung to his back, nails digging in slightly as he started thrusting. His rhythm was perfect—controlled, deep, toe-curling.

His fingers found your clit mid-thrust, rubbing in time with each snap of his hips. You clenched around him, moaning as your orgasm washed over you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lowering himself to kiss you, forehead to forehead. “Can I—”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He groaned as he came, hips stuttering as he spilled into you. Your head lolled back, your entire body melting into the mattress.

“Amazing?” He asked softly.

“Stupid amazing,” you replied, still catching your breath.

“Get your pizza first! Your dick won’t fall off!”

You both froze at the shout. You blinked. “Who’s that?”

“One of my housemates, Seungcheol” Mingyu sighed. He quickly threw on his boxers and padded toward the door.

“Want to say hi?” “I’m naked.”

Mingyu grinned. “Well I’m half naked, just listen for the dramatics.”

You heard Seungcheol immediately yell, “Just boxers? Really? Why are you always half naked?”

You snorted, deciding to hop in the shower. After a quick rinse, you pulled on Mingyu’s shirt—it hung on you like a dress—and checked yourself in the mirror. Good enough.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m going to grab some water, is that okay?” You asked Mingyu when he came back to his bedroom.

“Of course!” ~~ “Hi,” said a friendly voice as you padded into the hallway in Mingyu’s shirt.

You froze. A new stranger stood leaning against the kitchen counter, smiling at you. “You must be Y/N.”

You blinked. “I—uh. Hi.”

“I’m Seokmin,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m one of three housemates here.”

You shook it, already feeling incredibly flustered. “Mingyu,” he called down the hallway, “have you heard of a shirt?” You groaned. Mingyu appeared behind you, still shirtless, holding two slices of pizza. “I have, but I’m sweaty.” “Fine, fine,” Seokmin waved him off. “Take care, kids. Use protection!” You turned around and buried your face in Mingyu’s chest. “Sorry about him,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” you said, muffled. Back in his room, you both settled in with greasy pizza and fresh sheets. “I hope you don’t mind that I showered,” you said. “You smell like me,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m keeping the shirt.” “Figured.” A pause. “You’re beautiful,” he said, quieter this time. You looked over at him. “I mean it,” he added. “Not in a creepy way. Just... in case no one’s told you recently.” Your stomach fluttered. You smiled, leaning into his shoulder as the movie started to play. ~~ Sometime between the second pizza slice and the end credits of Nemo, you found yourself stretched out beside Mingyu, your body limp, skin still tingling from his touch. He propped himself up on one elbow, brushing damp hair from your cheek. “We okay?” You blinked up at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah. Why?” He sighed. “Just... you’re hard to read sometimes.” “You mean emotionally?” He nodded. “I’ve been told,” you said softly. “Hey, its not a bad thing, just means I got to work harder.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his action making you swoon. “Hey,” he said a moment later. “I meant it. About you being my type.” You scoffed. “You don’t even know me.” “I know enough to want to keep knowing you.” You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. He grinned, pulling you closer. “Movie round two? Or round two in a very different sense?” You smacked his chest, laughing. “Movie first.” But even as you said it, your fingers were already trailing lower.~~ When you woke up the next morning, Mingyu was already in the kitchen, humming along to a playlist and flipping pancakes. You walked in wearing nothing but his shirt. He looked up, spatula still in hand. “Hi, gorgeous.” You smiled sleepily. “Hi.” He pointed toward the coffee he’d already made. “Caffeine. And carbs.” You padded over and tiptoed to reach up and kiss his cheek. “Are you trying to spoil me?” “Nope,” he said, flipping another pancake. “Just bribing you to stay longer.” You took a sip of the coffee. “Bribery’s working.” He grinned. ~~ “New shirt?” Wonwoo’s voice made you jump as you stepped into the living room.

You turned slowly, adjusting the hem of your oversized shirt. “Yes?” He raised a brow. “Is it clean?” “It’s Mingyu’s.”

“Ah,” Wonwoo said, voice flat.

You squirmed a little under his stare.

“Didn’t realise you two were still...” he trailed off, but the tone said enough.

You sighed. “We’re not anything. Just... two adults with no self-control and shared pizza.”

He let out a breath, his arms crossed. “Right.” “You’re mad.” “I’m not.” “You are.” Wonwoo didn’t answer.

“Fine,” you said, heading toward the kitchen. “Be grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, following. “I just, whatever.”

“Wonwoo, don’t be like that.”

“I’m just saying, kissing me, and then sleeping with Mingyu, won’t that give both of us mixed signals?” You blinked. “Maybe, but he doesn’t know.” Silence. Wonwoo sighed. “Well, that can’t end well.”

You dropped your arms to your sides. “This is exhausting, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then, don’t play both sides. Look, even if it’s early on, you and Mingyu have bonded quickly, and maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Besides, you want intimacy, and I’m not in a space in my life where I can give you exactly what you need to give you that.” The words hit like a slap, and your mouth opened, then shut. You turned away before he could see how much it stung.

~~ Later that evening, you sat on the rooftop of your apartment building, wrapped in Mingyu’s hoodie, a wine bottle tucked between your knees. The city sparkled in the distance, alive and unaware. “You okay?” Mingyu asked softly, stepping onto the rooftop. You nodded without turning around. “I’m great. Just airing out my emotional baggage.” He sat beside you, letting his thigh brush yours. “Want to talk about it?” “Nope.” “Want me to distract you?” You turned to face him. “You think distraction fixes everything?” “No,” Mingyu replied, smiling faintly. “But I’m really good at it.” You laughed. It was small, but it cracked through the ache in your chest. “I just got into an argument with Wonwoo,” you said quietly. “Why?” You sighed and began to speak. “I guess just an overprotective roommate,” you said, not wanting to tell Mingyu everything just yet. Mingyu tilted his head, studying you. “Oh, maybe he’s just looking out for you but going about it in the wrong way.” Your chest tightened. “Yeah, I guess so.” “How’s this, anytime you feel blue, you can come over to mine, and talk? I can promise pancakes and zero judgment.” You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Mingyu rested his chin on your hair. “Anytime.” ~~ A week passed. You wrote your article. He read three books. You shared meals, shared beds, shared soft smiles across busy rooms. But something was shifting. It wasn’t just about sex anymore; you two spent more time together, talked about more personal things, shared funny anecdotes, and sometimes you both would just cuddle, even if there was no sex. And that terrified you. ~~ “Y/N,” Wonwoo said one evening as you passed each other in the kitchen. “Can we talk?” You froze. “Now?” He nodded. “If you’re not too busy with Mingyu.” The words were laced with something—resentment? Pain? You leaned against the counter. “Uh..no I’m not. Look, I don’t want to keep fighting you on this. Besides, like you said, you can’t give me what I need, and all we did was just flirt and kiss once.” “I know, and believe me, I’m not mad at how we behaved with one another, but I’m worried. What if he hurts you?” “He won’t. I’ve been spending more time with him, and he’s just the sweetest.” Wonwoo met your eyes. “He better be. ” You swallowed. “He is.” A beat of silence. “Do you like him?” He asked. You blinked. “What? Of course I do, he’s such a sweet guy.” “No. Do you like him? In the sense that, do you have feelings for him?” You hesitated too long. “That’s what I thought,” he said quietly, walking away. You didn’t sleep that night. You kept thinking about the way Mingyu looked when he was reading in bed, or how he always remembered to bring you a drink without asking. The way he listened. The way he kissed you was like he was trying to memorise your soul. And the worst part? You were starting to fall for him. And that scared the life out of you. ~~ “You look like shit.” Joshua didn’t even glance up from his cereal when he said it. “Good morning to you, too,” you mumbled, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. He raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?” You poured coffee and took a long sip before answering. “Didn’t sleep much.” “Because of Mingyu? Or because of Wonwoo?” You froze, mug halfway to your lips. Joshua looked up now, spoon suspended midair. “You think I don’t notice things? Come on, Y/N. You’re not subtle.” You sighed. “It’s complicated.” He scoffed. “Love triangles usually are.” “It’s not a triangle.” “Sure. Just a very... emotionally charged V.” “Wonwoo and I spoke, and we cleared the air, okay?” You added, already tired from the conversation. Joshua grinned. “I know, I was eavesdropping when you guys were chatting.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Of course.”

“So what will you do about your very real feelings for Mingyu?” ~~ “Hey.” Mingyu’s voice was soft when he called you later that afternoon. “You okay?” You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired.” There was silence on the other end, but you could hear the way he breathed—measured and patient, waiting for you to say more. “I had a weird talk with Wonwoo,” you said finally. “What kind of weird?” “He asked me if I liked you.” A pause. “What did you say?” “I didn’t.” Another pause. “Do you?” “I... don’t know.” You heard Mingyu let out a slow breath. “Okay.” “That’s all you’re going to say?” “I’m not going to force you into anything.” You swallowed. “But what if this—whatever this is—ruins things? Between all of us.” “Then let it,” he said quietly. “If we’re all pretending to be fine, nobody actually is.”

~~ Later that week, Seokmin knocked gently on your apartment door. “Hey, sorry, uh... weird question. Have you seen Mingyu?” You blinked. “No? Not today.” He nodded slowly. “He’s been... off.” You closed your laptop. “Off how?” Seokmin scratched the back of his neck. “Quiet. Moodier than usual. Like he’s trying to disappear.” Your chest tightened. “Thanks for telling me. I’m heading out later; maybe I’ll run into him where he usually hangs out?” Seokmin smiled, “Thank you. You really do know him quite well. I appreciate it.” You found him at the park. Curled up on a bench, camera in hand, lenses strewn beside him like offerings. He didn’t even look up when you approached. “You’ve gone full tortured artist,” you said, forcing a smile. Mingyu clicked the shutter. “It’s quieter out here.” You sat beside him. “You didn’t answer my texts.” “I didn’t know what to say.” You smiled softly at him, “Just be honest.” He glanced over. “I want you. But I don’t want to be the one holding you back from figuring things out.” “You’re not holding me back.” “But you’re still stuck.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. I am.”

“Then say that. Don’t kiss me and pretend everything’s fine.”

You looked away. “I’m scared, okay? This... feels like it could be something real. And if it ends, I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

Mingyu’s voice dropped. “Then don’t.”

You blinked at him.

“Don’t walk away.”

You stayed on that bench until the sun dipped below the skyline.

You talked about everything and nothing. About the time he dyed his hair orange in college. About your first heartbreak. About the stupid article you were writing on “types” and how maybe Mingyu didn’t fit yours but kept checking every box anyway.

By the time you got home, your fingers were intertwined with his, and neither of you wanted to let go.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice caught you at the door.

Wonwoo’s eyes dropped to your hands interlaced with Mingyu. “I see you two are fine?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Interesting,” he said.

“Wonwoo, what are you—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted. Then, smiling, he said. “It’s fine, just be safe, you guys.”

You gave him a small smile, “Shut up.” ~~ That night, as you lay in Mingyu’s bed with your head on his chest, you couldn’t sleep. The silence between you was heavy, like it was holding its breath. “Mingyu?” “Hmm?” “If this ends badly... I don’t think I’ll survive it.” He kissed your forehead gently. “Then we make sure it doesn’t.”

~~ “You’re late.” Joshua said as you entered the apartment, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realise I had a curfew,” you muttered, brushing past him into the apartment. “You said you were coming home after dinner.” You kicked off your shoes. “I changed my mind.” Joshua followed you into the kitchen. “So you spent the night at Mingyu’s again?” You grabbed a glass of water. “Can we not do this right now?” Joshua scoffed. “You said this was a casual thing.” “It was.” “And now?” You didn’t answer. He let out a bitter laugh. “So that’s a yes.” “Shua, I’m not asking for your permission—” “No,” he snapped, “but I am your friend. And watching you sleepwalk into something that’s going to rip you apart isn’t easy.” Your chest tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know you. And I’ve seen how you get when you fall for someone.” You set your glass down a little too hard. “He’s not like the others.” “Maybe not. But you are someone who falls head over heels and more when you like someone, and I’m scared that one tiny misstep on his part will break you.” You didn’t text Mingyu that night. Or the next morning. Or the one after that. You needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out why everything felt like it was unravelling—when on the surface, things had never been more... perfect. So why did you feel so off?

~~ Three days later, Mingyu showed up at your door. “You avoiding me?” He asked, not bothering with hello. You stared at him. “I just needed time.” “Without telling me?” “I didn’t think I needed to give you a heads-up every time I took a breath.” Mingyu’s jaw flexed. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it.” You crossed your arms. “Then what is this about, Mingyu?” “You’re pulling away.” You stayed silent. Mingyu stepped closer. “You said this was real. That you wanted it.” “I did.” “And now?” You opened your mouth, then shut it because you didn’t know. Not really. Mingyu’s voice cracked. “You can’t keep doing this. Wanting me when it’s convenient. Pretending nothing’s changed.” “I’m scared, okay?” You snapped. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be all-in without ruining everything.” His eyes softened for a moment. “So ruin it with me. Together.” You blinked, stunned. But before you could say anything, Wonwoo appeared behind you. “Hey, just checking—” He froze when he saw Mingyu. His expression shifted, cold and unreadable. “Oh. It’s you.” Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “Nice to see you too.” You rubbed your temples. “Not now, please.” Wonwoo looked at you. “I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you want to talk. Or if you’re done letting him talk at you.” “Wow,” Mingyu muttered. “What’s his deal?” You turned on him. “Don’t.” “Don’t what? Point out the obvious?” “He’s trying to stand up for me.” “Right, and what am I doing? I’m just trying to get you to stand up for yourself, too.” You swallowed hard. “You should go.” Mingyu blinked. “What?” “I need space.” He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “Mingyu—” He stepped back, something shuttering in his face. “Right. Got it.” And just like that, he walked out. You shut the door and collapsed against it. Your chest ached in that specific, aching way that only happens when you push away something you want because you’re terrified you’ll destroy it. An hour later, your phone buzzed. Mingyu: I won’t chase you. But I’m not going anywhere either. You stared at the screen, heart thudding. Because that was the problem. He wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe that scared you more than anything. ~~ “You haven’t said anything in ten minutes,” Joshua pointed out, glancing at you from the other end of the couch.

“I’m thinking,” you replied, eyes fixed on the paused movie screen, not actually watching. He raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous territory.” You threw a popcorn kernel at him. “Ha-ha.” “Still no Mingyu?” “Nope.” “And that’s... good or bad?” You let out a long breath. “Confusing.” Joshua nodded slowly. “That tracks.” You finally looked at him. “Do you think I’m the problem?” He tilted his head. “Define ‘problem.’” “Do not make this worse.” He laughed under his breath. “Okay, look. You’ve had shit luck with relationships. You guard yourself. You get in your head. And yeah, sometimes you push people away before they can leave.” You blinked. “Damn. Don’t hold back.” “I’m just saying,” Joshua said, a little softer now. “Mingyu seems like the first guy who’s actually trying to stay. That scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” You didn’t answer. Later that night, you found yourself scrolling through photos. Pictures Mingyu had taken—blurry ones from the pub crawl, snapshots of street lights and half-smiles and candid moments. One of you laughing into a glass of wine. You hadn’t even known he’d taken that one. There was something about the way he saw the world. The way he saw you. Like he was already memorising you before he had the right to. Your heart ached.

~~ You couldn’t stop pacing. It had been a whole day since the fight, and your chest still felt tight. You hated fighting with Mingyu — it felt unnatural like the world was slightly off balance. You weren’t even sure how it had escalated so quickly.

One moment you were just trying to be honest, saying you needed some space to process everything that had happened between you two. The next, Mingyu was snapping, clearly frustrated, saying it felt like every time you took a step forward, you took two steps back.

Now, you were standing in your living room, debating whether to go over and knock on his door. Joshua had already given you a pep talk, telling you to just be honest with Mingyu, but it still felt like walking into a lion’s den. You weren’t even sure what you’d say.

“Screw it,” you mumbled to yourself, throwing on an oversized hoodie and making your way to his door before you could second-guess yourself again.

You hesitated for a second before giving three firm knocks. You heard some rustling on the other side, and then the door opened, revealing a tired-looking Mingyu. His hair was tousled, and he was in a plain white tee and sweats, but his expression was guarded.

“What do you want?” He asked, his tone sharper than usual.

You swallowed hard, feeling your resolve falter. “Can I come in?”

He hesitated, eyes scanning your face, before he finally stepped aside and let you in. You walked to the living room, standing awkwardly by the couch while Mingyu stayed by the door, arms crossed over his chest. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Mingyu,” you started softly, twisting your fingers together. “I hate fighting with you.”

He huffed, looking away. “Yeah, well, I hate feeling like I’m being pushed away every time things start getting good.”

You bit your lip, gathering your thoughts. “That’s not what I was trying to do. I wasn’t trying to push you away.”

“Then what the hell was it?” He snapped, finally turning to look at you, his eyes a mixture of hurt and frustration. “You do all these things that make me feel like this could be something, then the next day you’re saying you need space? I don’t get it. Am I supposed to just keep guessing how you feel?”

You took a deep breath and moved closer, but kept a little distance. “I... I got overwhelmed. I thought that if I took a step back, I’d be able to figure out what I was feeling without dragging you into my mess.”

Mingyu looked at you incredulously. “You are such a hypocrite, you know that? You keep telling me to be honest with how I feel, to just say it when I’m upset or happy or whatever. And then you get overwhelmed and decide to push me away instead of telling me what’s going on in your head.”

The guilt gnawed at your stomach, and you looked down. “I know. You’re right. I’m... I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Mingyu’s voice softened, but he didn’t move closer.

“Of how much I like you. Of how much this means to me. Because if this goes wrong... it’s gonna hurt. A lot,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

Mingyu sighed deeply, rubbing his face with one hand. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, you know. I’m terrified of screwing this up too. But you don’t see me trying to put distance between us every time things get intense.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “I’m sorry. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. I never thought I’d care about someone this much again. I just panicked.”

Mingyu finally moved, taking a step toward you. “You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep pulling back every time you get scared. I can’t take it. I’m all in with you, but I need you to meet me halfway. I can’t keep feeling like I’m chasing after you while you’re running in the opposite direction.”

You nodded, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. “You’re right. I know you are. I’m sorry I keep doing that. I just... I’m scared of losing you, so I keep pushing you away before you can leave on your own.”

Mingyu’s expression softened, and he uncrossed his arms, his hands hovering uncertainly before he cupped your face. “I’m not leaving. Okay? I’m not. You’re stuck with me.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you, and you leaned into his touch. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Then stop making it so hard to stay,” he whispered, his voice softer now, more tender.

You nodded, covering his hands with yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, and without another word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle, almost hesitant kiss to your lips. You melted into it, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as his fingers curled into your hair. The kiss was slow, tender, like he was reassuring himself that you were really there, that you weren’t going anywhere.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile up at him, and Mingyu sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re really exhausting sometimes, you know that?”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Yeah. But I’m worth it, right?”

He chuckled, finally wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Yeah. You are. Just... stop running, okay?”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your cheek. “Okay. I’m done running.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening around you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

You looked up at him, and this time you kissed him first, letting your lips linger on his, soft and unhurried. Mingyu hummed contentedly, his hands sliding up your back. The tension melted away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right again.~~

The next morning, after showering at Mingyu’s apartment and changing, you kissed Mingyu several times, before you left his place, and walked across the hall into your apartment to find Joshua seated at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal and the look. “You smell like sex and regret,” he said, casually spooning cereal into his mouth. “Morning to you, too.” “Is that Mingyu’s shirt?” You ignored him, heading toward your room. “You know,” he called after you, “I’ve been holding off on the ‘told you so,’ but I’m getting real close to breaking.” You stuck your head out. “Don’t.” Joshua raised both hands. “Just don’t get in too deep if you’re not willing to commit to him. It’ll hurt you both if that happens.” You stared at him. “What if I already am?” He frowned, setting down his spoon. “Then I hope any potential heartache is worth it.” ~~ That afternoon, you curled up on the sofa with your laptop. Article deadline looming. Blank document open. Brain, fried. It wasn’t until Mingyu texted that something sparked: Mingyu: What’s your favourite love story? You stared at the screen. You: Fictional? Mingyu: No. Real. You: Mine hasn’t been written yet. Mingyu: What if we wrote it together? Your chest did that stupid fluttering thing again. Like your heart had gone off-script. You smiled. You: Bold of you to assume you’d make the final draft. Mingyu: You keep rewriting the intro, babe. I’m just trying to stay on the page. You bit your lip, closing the chat. And just like that, your fingers flew across the keyboard. Because suddenly, you had something to say. ~~ Two days later, you knocked on Mingyu’s door with with snacks in attempt to bribe him to edit your lastest draft.

He opened it with sleepy eyes and messy hair, wearing a hoodie that had no business looking that good. “Morning beautiful,” he greeted with a warm smile. You smiled, and held up a USB. “I wrote a my final draft of my most recent article, do you want to help me edit?” Final draft. No red pen needed.”

“Is that why you have snacks?” He asked already smiling. You grinned “Maybe.” “Well in that case, get in here, Hemingway,” he teased, stepping aside to let you in. You watched him read it from across the room. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just kept scrolling, eyes focused, mouth slightly parted.

When he finished, he looked up. “That last line… ‘a spark can form the most unusual of places and encounters’.” You tilted your head. “Too much?” He shook his head. “No. It’s perfect.” You smiled softly. “It’s about you.” “I figured,” he said, walking over, “but it still wrecked me.” You leaned against the counter. “Good. That’s what great writing does.” He stepped closer. “So, does this mean you’ll fight for us?” “I think so.” He grinned. “Good, that’s all I can ask for.” “I think you already are.” And as he kissed you—slow, deliberate, familiar in all the right ways—you let the weight fall from your shoulders. Because maybe this wasn’t the start of a love story. Maybe it was the chapter where things stopped being a fantasy… ...and finally started feeling real. ~~ “You’ve been quiet all evening.” You glanced up from your wine glass. Mingyu was stretched out on the other side of the couch, hoodie sleeves bunched around his forearms, watching you with careful eyes. “I’m thinking.” “That’s dangerous,” he teased, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Want to talk about it?” “I don’t know how.” He nodded like he understood—but you could tell it still stung. You shifted in your seat. “What are we doing?” Mingyu blinked. “What do you mean?” “This thing. Us. It’s not just sex anymore.” “No, it’s not.” “And we’re not exactly friends either.” “I’m okay with not having a label,” he said. “Are you?” You looked down at your glass. “I want to be.” “But you’re not.” “I’m scared that if I name it, I’ll ruin it.” Mingyu sat up slowly. “You think love ruins things?” “I think people do.” That hit harder than you intended, and you both knew it. Later, when he kissed you, it was slow and sweet, like he was trying to remind you it didn’t have to be scary. You kissed him back with everything you had. And maybe that was the problem. Because giving someone everything? It meant they had the power to break you. ~~ The following day, the tension hadn’t left. You both pretended it had. You made breakfast. He teased you for burning the eggs. You laughed too loudly. He smiled too easily. But the silence between the sentences was deafening. When he finally left, the apartment felt too quiet. And when Joshua came home, he took one look at you and sighed. “Okay. Spill.” You sank onto the sofa. “I think I’m falling for him.” Joshua’s eyes widened; he never thought you’d admit it so quickly, but he didn’t interrupt. “And I don’t know if I’m ready.” He sat beside you, unusually serious. “Then don’t rush it. But don’t run from it either.” “I’m not running.” “You’re limping away at full speed.” You groaned. “God, you’re annoying when you’re right.” He smiled and bumped his shoulder against yours. “I only pull it out when necessary.” ~~ It was one of those quiet evenings, the kind where the city seemed to take a collective breath. You were on your way back from the grocery store, bags in hand, when you spotted Mingyu standing just outside your apartment building. At first, the sight of him made you smile – he was leaning against the railing, his broad shoulders relaxed, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the street lamp.

But then you noticed he wasn’t alone.

A girl stood in front of him, long hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a fitted leather jacket and heels that clicked against the pavement. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm lightly. Your steps faltered, and you instinctively took a step back, ducking behind the edge of the building.

Your heart clenched, a weird mix of confusion and something dangerously close to jealousy settling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel stupid – why did it bother you so much to see him with someone else? It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. But there was something about how effortlessly beautiful she looked, how easily she made him laugh, that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

A million questions ran through your mind. Did he know her from work? Was she just a friend? Or worse, an ex? You couldn’t help but notice how naturally he smiled at her, the way he leaned down to hear her better, his hand brushing back his hair the way he did when he was feeling a little self-conscious. You felt like a complete idiot, rooted to the spot, irrationally annoyed at how close they seemed.

You peeked around the corner, just enough to see her lean in a bit closer, her hand lingering on his arm. Mingyu seemed a little uncomfortable, glancing down at her hand before giving her a polite smile. They exchanged a few more words that you couldn’t quite hear, and then she waved, heading off down the sidewalk.

You waited until she was out of sight before stepping back out, trying to act natural. You kept your gaze on the ground as you made your way to the entrance, but of course, Mingyu spotted you instantly.

“Hey!” He called out, jogging over to you.

You forced a smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

He seemed to hesitate, studying your face. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, shifting the grocery bag to your other hand.

Mingyu frowned, stepping closer. “Are you sure? You seem... off.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, offering a small smile that felt too tight. “Yeah, just a long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Here, let me help.” Before you could protest, he took one of the bags from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. The familiar warmth made your heart ache, and you bit your lip to keep your expression neutral.

As you walked inside, you couldn’t help but feel silly for feeling so... possessive. You weren’t even sure why it hit you so hard. Sure, Mingyu had been flirty with you, and you had shared some intense moments, but did that really mean he wasn’t allowed to have other girls around?

Your mind kept replaying the way the girl leaned into him, her bright, carefree laugh, and the way Mingyu didn’t immediately step away. You hated how insecure it made you feel, and even more so how your mood had completely flipped.

When you reached your apartment, Mingyu put the bags on the kitchen counter and turned to you, concern etched into his features. “You’re incredibly cute when you’re grumpy, but I must still ask, why did you storm off when I called your name?” Mingyu stood in your doorway, his tone curious.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Of course I noticed.”

You crossed your arms, heart thudding. “You seemed busy.”

Mingyu scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You were laughing. With some girl.”

“Seokmin’s cousin?”

You looked away. “Does it matter?”

“It does when you weaponise jealousy against me.”

Silence stretched between you like a taut wire ready to snap.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you whispered.

“But you did.”

You met his eyes. “So did you.”

He sighed, stepping back. “We were supposed to be honest. About what we wanted. About how we felt.”

“You said we didn’t need labels.”

“I didn’t think that meant lying to ourselves.”

Your voice cracked. “I wasn’t lying.”

“No?” He said, eyes searching yours. “Then tell me you don’t care about me.”

You blinked.

Tell him.

Say it.

But you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t true.

And silence was the loudest answer of all. ~~ You didn’t speak for a week. No texts. No knocks on the door. No laughter through the walls.

It was excruciating. Even Joshua stopped teasing you.

“You okay?” Joshua asked one night, quietly.

You nodded. He didn’t press.

You sat at your laptop, staring at the blinking cursor. You hadn’t written a single word since the argument with Mingyu. It was as if you had lost your muse.

Worse—you might’ve lost him too. ~~ Another three days passed. You were walking home, umbrella flipping inside out in the wind, when you saw it: A plant. Sitting on your doorstep. A bonsai.

With a tiny note taped to the pot.

“Joshua told me you don’t like when plants have human names, but Lydia 2.0 says she misses you. -M”

You stared at it. Then you cried. Not a pretty, cinematic cry. A real one. Messy. Gutting. Cathartic. Because it wasn’t about the plant. It was about the space he left—and how much of you still lived in it. You knocked on his door the next day. No answer. You knocked again. Then again.

Finally, the door opened. Mingyu stood there, in a hoodie and sweatpants, eyes tired, expression guarded.

You held up the note. “You’re still annoying, you know that?”

“Glad to know I still have that effect.”

You exhaled. “Can we talk?”

He stepped aside. You both sat on the floor. No pretence. No distance. Just you two, knees touching.

“I miss you,” you admitted.

Mingyu nodded. “I missed you, too.”

“I panicked,” you confessed. “I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling, and I ran. I always run.”

“And I push,” he said. “When I want something, I push hard for it.”

You looked at him. “This thing between us... it’s not just physical anymore.”

“No,” he said softly. “It’s not.”

You reached for his hand. “So what now?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Now, we start over. No rules. No games. Just us.”

You bit your lip. “And if I mess up again?”

“Then I’ll remind you why you chose me the first time.”

You laughed through your tears. “You’re really good at that, you know?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning forward until your foreheads touched.

“Let’s just take it slow,” you whispered.

He nodded. “Slow sounds perfect.”

And in the quiet of his apartment, with your hand in his and hope blooming in the wreckage. You realised this wasn’t a new chapter. This was the real beginning. ~~ “So, what’s the plan for the housewarming?”

Mingyu’s voice drifted through the doorway as you padded into his kitchen, still half-asleep in your oversized T-shirt, hair sticking up in odd angles. You squinted at him, blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

“What housewarming?” You mumbled, fumbling for your mug and the coffee pot.

Mingyu gave you a lopsided grin. “The one I said we should do this some time next weekend? Seokmin and Seungcheol hyung are finally settled in. So I was planning to invite some of our friends, it’d be a nice way for everyone to see the new place, and we can also invite your housemates too?”

You took a long sip of coffee, the caffeine finally beginning to wake you up. “Oh. Yeah, sounds good. Just drinks and stuff?”

“Yeah, keep it chill—drinks, music, maybe a game or two if Seokmin gets bored enough,” Mingyu replied, leaning back against the counter with that casual confidence of his.

You raised an eyebrow. “You know Seokmin’s going to demand karaoke. Are you prepared for that chaos?”

Mingyu snorted. “I’m mentally preparing. I’ll make sure we have enough soju to tolerate his high notes.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a solid plan. Who’s handling the drinks and snacks?”

He gave you a thoughtful look. “I’ll handle the drinks, you take care of the snacks? That way I don’t accidentally buy a bunch of instant ramen and call it party food.”

You chuckled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll make a list. You’ll just have to carry all the bags.”

Mingyu smirked. “That’s what I’m here for—manual labor and looking pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at your lips. “You do one of those things better than the other.”

He made a face. “Wow, that’s harsh. I’ll have you know, I can carry all the groceries in one trip.”

“Sure, Hercules,” you teased, pouring yourself another cup of coffee. “Are you inviting everyone from the building or just the usual crowd?”

“Just the usual. Maybe a few others from the floor if Seokmin gets carried away. You know how he is—an introverted social butterfly in a chaotic package,” Mingyu replied, shaking his head fondly.

You hummed in agreement. “I’ll handle the playlist then. Can’t trust you to not play EDM the whole night.”

Mingyu put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I have taste, okay? Just because I like a good bass drop doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your acoustic love songs.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, if I hear one remix of a ballad, I’m kicking you out of your own party.”

He laughed, giving you a soft look. “Deal. I’ll keep it classy. Promise.”

As you both continued planning, Mingyu pulled out his phone, showing you a few decoration ideas. You couldn’t help but notice how excited he seemed about hosting—how he wanted everything to be perfect. It was endearing, really.

“So, we’ll get some fairy lights, right?” Mingyu asked, scrolling through a list of supplies.

You nodded. “Definitely. Maybe some cute string lights too, for the balcony. And I’ll put together a few cocktail recipes—something easy for people to mix themselves.”

Mingyu grinned. “You know, we make a pretty good team.”

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Yeah, we do.”

He leaned closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just make sure you save a dance for me, alright? Even if Seokmin’s singing ‘I Want It That Way’ at the top of his lungs.”

You snorted. “I’ll consider it—if you promise to at least try not to drink every cocktail I make.”

Mingyu chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “No promises. Your drinks are dangerously good.”

You gave him a soft smile, warmth spreading through you at his touch. As the two of you continued planning, you couldn’t help but think that this housewarming wasn’t just about the new place—it was about starting something new between the two of you, too.

~~ You were sitting on the living room couch, scrolling through your phone when you heard the front door open. Wonwoo stepped inside, holding a takeout bag, his shoulders looking a little less tense than usual after a long day at work. You looked up and gave him a small smile as he kicked off his shoes.

“Long day?” You asked, setting your phone down.

Wonwoo nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Presentation ran over time, and then the client had about a thousand questions.”

You gestured for him to sit next to you, and he plopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out. “Well, I’ve got some news that might cheer you up,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What now? You won the lottery or something?”

“Better,” you grinned. “There’s a party this weekend. Mingyu and his roommates are hosting a housewarming.”

Wonwoo gave you a skeptical look. “A party? At Mingyu’s place?”

“Yep,” you confirmed. “Seokmin and Cheol are finally settled in, and Mingyu thought it’d be a good idea to invite everyone over. Drinks, music, probably some weird games if Seokmin has anything to say about it.”

Wonwoo snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds chaotic. But it could be fun.”

You nodded. “Exactly. Plus, it’s a good way to get to know everyone better. I already told Mingyu we’d be there.”

He gave you a sideways glance. “You sure about that? Joshua’s been swamped lately. Don’t know if he’ll be up for it.”

You mock pouted at him. “Come on Wonwoo, please?” “Fine, against my better judgement, fine.”

Wonwoo took a breathe and gave you scrutinising look. “So... what’s the deal with you and Mingyu?”

Your smile faltered slightly. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, clearly not letting this go. “I mean, you’re now planning a party together? Isn’t that something incredibly couple like? Are you two a thing now or what?”

You hesitated, not sure how to put it into words. “We’re... figuring things out. It’s not really labeled or anything.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “You sure you’re not rushing into something? You haven’t really known him that long.”

You bristled slightly. “It’s not like that. We’re just spending time together, seeing where it goes.”

“Spending time, huh? You know that’s how people get feelings right?” Wonwoo said cautiously.

You frowned. “I’m not some lovesick idiot, you know. I know how to take care of myself.” Wonwoo raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you. I’ve you get hurt and cry over idiots, I don’t want crying over yet another guy.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a tiny seed of doubt planting itself despite your best efforts to ignore it. “Mingyu’s not like that, he’s kind, warm and compassionate.”

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile. “You sure not love sick?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded. Wonwoo gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading to his room.

Left alone with your thoughts, frustration bubbled under your skin. You didn’t want to doubt Mingyu, but Wonwoo’s words kept bouncing around your head. To dispel the tension, you found yourself cleaning the living room with more force than necessary, wiping down the coffee table and fluffing the pillows like they’d personally offended you.

After vacuuming the floor and reorganizing the bookshelf twice, you stopped to catch your breath, realizing how ridiculous you were being. You were annoyed—not just with Wonwoo, but with yourself for letting his words get to you. You couldn’t help it. Mingyu made you feel safe, seen and cared for, and Wonwoo’s word sowed a seed of worry in your mind.

The sound of a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You opened it, and there stood Mingyu, leaning against the frame with a casual smile.

“Hey, the apartment door was open,” he greeted, his voice soft.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to muster a smile.

Mingyu’s eyes roamed the room, noticing the freshly cleaned space. “Wow. Did you go on a cleaning spree?”

You shrugged. “Just needed to do something to clear my head.”

He gave you a curious look, his smile fading a bit. “Something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, debating whether to bring up what Wonwoo said. “Just... thinking about stuff.”

Mingyu stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

Your heart squeezed at the simple, sincere gesture. You leaned into his touch, letting out a long breath. “It’s nothing, really. Just overthinking, I guess.”

He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin. “You sure? I don’t like seeing you stressed.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine. Just... needed a distraction.”

Mingyu’s lips quirked up in a gentle smile. “I’m good at distractions.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. Mingyu’s presence had a way of making the chaos in your mind feel a little quieter.

“Stay?” You whispered.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Always.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, and without thinking, you closed the distance between your lips, kissing him softly. Mingyu responded immediately, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was slow, unhurried—like he was taking his time to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When you finally pulled back, Mingyu gave you a soft smile, brushing his nose against yours. “Feel better?”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Yeah. A lot better.”

Mingyu pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into a warm hug. You closed your eyes, letting the comfort of his embrace push away the doubts that had threatened to take over.

496 notes · View notes

f4ggydog · 2 months ago

Text

lottie x reader: no need to fight it cause you’re giving in🔞

warnings: smut, noncon, top lottie, lottie has a dick, reader has a pussy, breeding, delusional lottie, dark lottie

Lottie’s dragging you out to the clearing and the next thing you register is the sounds of trees blaring in your ears. You shake your head, wanting to put this fantasy to rest. Whatever delusion Lottie was infected by, you were begging for a halt to it. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in her little schemes.

“I know you hear it too,” Lottie says. “Can you hear it humming in your ears?”

Humming was one way to put it. It felt more like screaming for you. You cover your ears and sink to the ground, covering your face with your knees. You shiver as a giant ball of agony and fright. Make it stop. Make it stop.

“It’s okay.” Lottie rests her hand on your shoulder. “It might hurt to hear, but you’re the only one that can…talk with it. Understand it.”

No, you are not. You’ve got no connection with the wilderness whatsoever and you wish Lottie would stop insisting that you do. Her plans were going nowhere.

“Nobody else would be able to hear that yelling besides us,” Lottie states. “I can only hear it because I’m in close proximity to you. You…you can help me connect with it again.”

When does the nightmare end?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “I-I’ve got no connection to anything.”

“Nonsense.” Lottie shoves your side. “You have to trust me. You’re so important right now. You have great significance. And I need you to use it.”

“Lottie, I’m not the wilderness’ advocate. I’m just a person. Really, I’m not some god or spirit. I’m just me. Just leave all this stuff behind.”

“If we don’t obey what the wilderness wants, we all die. If we don’t give it what it wants, we will all suffer. You don’t want that, do you?”

Of course you don’t. You’d hate to see any more needless deaths. You’ve barely survived consuming Javi, let alone consuming another Yellowjacket. As if devouring Jackie wasn’t harrowing enough.

“Just listen to it,” Lottie instructs tenderly. “Let the sounds of the forests fill your ears. Get immersed in your environment. Tell me how deeply you can feel.”

The forest calls out to you again. You cringe as shrieks of terror fill your ears again, along with the sound of the wind swaying the trees. A leaf falls from above. The ground feels like it’s moving. The earth feels like it’s spinning on its axis. You’re getting dizzier.

“Make it stop,” you whimper. “Make it stop, Lottie. Tell it to stop.”

“What do you hear?” Lottie ignores your request. “Tell me.”

“Screaming!” You cry out. “They won’t stop screaming. Lottie, my ears are gonna bleed! It’s just yelling!”

“It’s communicating with you, in the only way it knows how. You’re doing so well for me.”

You drop to your hands and knees, on all fours like a dog. You feel a sharp pain in your ribs and your nails dig into the dirt for something to grasp onto. More yelling echoes in your ears and your back is close to giving out. You’re not sure how much more pain you can take. Why does it feel like you’re on the verge of death?

“Excellent.” Lottie nods, a menacing smirk on her lips. “Perfect. So good.”

The screaming stops. You gasp for air, rolling onto your back and heaving. You cross your arms on your chest, blinking as you watch the blue sky.

“You make for an excellent pupil,” Lottie compliments. “You did me a big favor here.”

“I don’t think I wanna do any more favors, Lot. Can we just go back to the camp please? Everything hurts.”

“We’re not done yet. There’s still other ways that we might be able to connect to the wilderness. Together. You and me.”

“I think I’m okay.”

“You can’t refuse,” Lottie says sternly, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m not letting you go until we do this. Once we’re done, then we may return home.”

“No!” You snap, standing up and shaking dirt off of your knees. “I’m not doing this shit anymore, Lottie. I’m fucking going home. You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”

“You can’t.” Lottie takes big strides towards you as you back away. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fucking catch me then!” You taunt. “Cause I’m running. Fuck this! I’m gone!”

Lottie chases after you without hesitation. You don’t make it far before she tackles you onto the ground like a football player. She pins your hands above your head and presses her knees down on your legs.

“Good try,” she sighs. “Unfortunately, that’s not gonna cut it.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” you spit. “If you think I’m gonna let you poison me into your crazy ideology, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Fine,” Lottie huffs. “Then it turns out I’ll really have to get you to connect with it another way. Good thing I know a strategy.”

“What does that mean?” You inquire nervously. “What the hell do you mean, Lottie?”

“You’ll see. But you’re gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?”

“No, I’m not trusting you with anything! You tried to kill me back there.”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Lottie corrects. “I was…introducing you to something.”

“Yeah, introducing me to my grave! Fuck off. Seriously, go bother Travis. Weren’t you messing with him earlier?”

“He doesn’t bear the same connection as you.” Lottie lowers her head. “I was mistaken. Thought I knew better, which is why I need you to help me out. I need to get in touch with the wilderness and its demands again. It’s important that I reach it. For the sake of you, me and the others.”

“Lottie you’re pissing me off,” you respond. “You’re pissing me off so bad, Lottie.

“I can deal with you being upset with me. As long as you get access to the wilderness in the way I want you to, it’s worth it.”

Lottie presses her nose to your forehead.

“I know this might not be easy for you to understand, but this is why I require your trust. You’re so much more important than you realize. And I need you to understand your value.”

You’re alarmed by Lottie’s proximity and attempt to wiggle away. But her grip overpowers yours effortlessly, which is a shocker. For all you knew, the wilderness could be injecting her with extra nutrients this second to keep her bones stronger.

Lottie presses her crotch against your ass. She’s laying on top of you, her dress flowing up a bit. Her hips grind against you, her bulge becoming more prominent.

“W-What kind of lessons are this?” You stutter. “W-What does this have to do with the wilderness? Lottie, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

Lottie’s arms attach themselves around your waist.

“Our bodies,” Lottie says. “They have to touch, bare skin on bare. It’s the most intimate form of human connection. It’ll ensure your connection with the woods is thorough.”

Before you can hurl another question her way, Lottie reaches for your shorts. She tugs them down until they reach the dirt floor. Then, her hands reach for your shirt.

“I can feel it already,” Lottie purrs in your ear. “It’s so much deeper. I already feel like I’m understanding you slightly more. Are you experiencing that feeling too?”

You shake your head, swallowing your hiccups. You’re frozen with fear and you wish you had one of the other girls around to save you. You couldn’t even fully blame yourself. You didn’t purposefully follow Lottie. She took you by your hand and forced you into her world of ‘wonders.’

Her hands slip under your shirt. Her fingers tease your nipples, humming with approval. You cough, unable to wriggle out from underneath Lottie’s body. Her bulge gets harder and stiffer with every movement and you’re worried you accidentally rub your clothed cunt against her cock. The last thing you need is to entice her further.

“This is great,” Lottie rasps. “I can tell that your body’s different just from its touch. There’s magic inside of you. You’re divine, perfect for experimentation.”

What the fuck? You weren’t some sort of lab subject? Again, you fail to fight off Lottie. You attempt to roll over so that she’s the one on the ground. But Lottie planned for that course of action. She’s got every weakness of yours figured out. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from her insanity.

Lottie stops fondling your buds, reaching her hands into her underwear. She grips her cock by its heavy shaft. Her dick is so huge that even one hand isn’t enough to properly secure it. However, she doesn’t pull down her panties just yet.

Does she think you’ll pull down your undergarments first? No way. You’re not going along with her trickery. You’re smarter than this. Perhaps you still have a chance to find a path back to camp and you can tell the others what Lottie tried to do with you.

More ideas pop into your mind but none come to fruition. And the more useless thinking you do, the more time Lottie has to undress you completely.

And she does just that. Well, mostly. She rips your underwear almost clean off, exposing your bare cunt to both the wilderness and its prophet.

“Shhhh,” Lottie coos. “Don’t make too much of a commotion. The wilderness won’t like it if you resist. It wants a smooth process, a firm understanding.”

“You’re a creep!” You shout. “You’re such a creep, Lottie. What is the matter with you!? Let the fuck go of me now!”

“You are the messenger,” Lottie informs. “You are the one it wants me to feel. You are the one whose body I’ve been trusted with. The wilderness expects a connection from you. Not Travis, not Akilah, not any other soul.”

“Leave me alone,” you whine, hearing the sound of fabric. Lottie takes her panties off and holds up the edge of her dress, so you get a good glance at what will crack you open. You’re not prepared to feel fuller than you’ve ever experienced before. You could deal with a lot less new experiences. Every new experience in the forest seemed to deprive you of mental fortitude day by day.

“Hush. Hush, hush. You’re so delicate, my little flower. You’re perfect for me.”

Lottie rubs the red tip of her cock against your folds. There’s hardly any wetness and Lottie doesn’t seem ready to lube you up either. There’s a certain haste to the friction and she clearly wants to ram inside of you and be as close to you as humanly possible. There was no warmth and bonding like being inside the body of another. But Lottie couldn’t cannibalize you. She needed you alive and well, willing to pass on the wilderness’ message.

In an act of scarce mercy, Lottie spits on her veiny cock a couple of times. She pumps the saliva along her shaft, a small amount hardly covering the surface. You yelp as Lottie whacks her dick against your entrance, enjoying your pussy pulsing as a satisfying reaction.

“Do you trust me?” Lottie asks.

Of course you don’t. Did she actually expect you to respond with a yes? Was there a shred of sanity left in that head jumbled with conspiracies and false prophecies? The potential answer scares you.

“N-No,” you utter.

Lottie rejects your answer. She thrusts forward, gagging your mouth with her fingers.

Your cry of pain is muffled. You are nothing but a bundle of nerves, forced to endure rough penetration. Lottie senses your discomfort, but there’s no halt to her movements. There’s desperation and need, but the only gentle part about this is the words entering your ears.

“Sweet little doll,” Lottie giggles, her cock stretching you out. “Look at the way those eyes flutter. Tell me, do you feel it in your soul? Do you feel how close we are? Do you feel us connecting on the basis of you being my student?”

What a twisted teacher. You couldn’t wait to warn the other members when you got back so they could hopefully toss out this creep. Your nails scratch the coarse floor of dirt. Your legs kick the ground like a tantrum is being thrown, except it’s a justified one.

“The fear is part of the ride,” Lottie encourages. “Think of this as a sacrifice. This may do away with your purity, but this brings us closer together. You’ll understand. You’ll get it once we’re done.”

You don’t believe a lick of Lottie’s speech. You sob against her fingers, nibbling on them until she pushes them to the back of your throat. You gag, nearly barfing at the sensation of being split open and practically choked.

“Take it,” Lottie grunts, her cock throbbing against your tight, velvety walls.

She removes her fingers from your mouth and holds you by your shoulders. Your body is forced into the dirt, her shirt covered with brown as Lottie uses your body like a fleshlight.

“Too much,” you cry. “Lottie, you’re too big. Y-You should take it out. Please, you’re way too big.”

“We could’ve done this an easier way. But you had to be difficult. You refused to listen to the sounds the wilderness offered. Now, this is the only way to get you to behave.”

Lottie kisses the back of your neck roughly, her cock still pounding away. Your body grows weaker by the moment and you internally say a prayer, wondering if you’ll ever be free now that she’s rested a claim on you.

If you were supposed to be a little flower, this felt like having all your petals torn off. You were wilted, growing ill from lack of nourishment and brightness in your life. Lottie was shielding you from the sun you deserved. When Lottie put you in your place, there was only darkness. Nothing but pitch black hell.

“Somehow your reaction is still not worse than I expected,” Lottie states proudly. “I’ll be able to tame you pretty soon. You’re going to make the perfect disciple. I just need you to understand why I’m doing this, why you need this.”

You don’t have the capacity to listen to her reasonings right now. You just desire an end to the cruelty.

Lottie’s balls slap against your ass, the slapping sound of flesh causing you to feel more nauseous. Hatred occupied every crevice of your mind. Lottie stole your innocence just for her own agenda. Yet, she still remained certain that she was doing the correct thing. She’s blinded by the belief of a moral obligation.

Or maybe you’re not so sure. Maybe she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but she can’t bring herself to care. Maybe Lottie is more callous than you imagined. Maybe you should’ve doubted her sooner. Maybe you—

“So fucking close little dove,” Lottie whispers. “You can take it for me. I know you can.”

“Lottie no,” you begin protesting. “No, n-no. You’ll give me a baby. I-I don’t want a baby. P-Please, at least don’t cum inside.”

“You don’t get to make the decision. I’m only following what it wants.”

You thrash around, hoping Lottie’s cock will pop out of you. But your pussy only squeezes harder and secures Lottie nice and snug in your delicate cunt.

Lottie parts her lips, small gasps leaving as her pace reaches its highest point. She claws into your skin, her hips moving on their own. Both of you are linked by sweat and musk, the trees watching as a pair of survivors fuck raw in isolation.

Memories of Lottie flash into your head. Her taking the leadership role during winter, her leading the hunt on Travis during one faithful night. You pondered if you would be her next victim, if a second Doomcoming was in order.

You chase that thought of your brain. You can’t afford to bring yourself more dread.

Suddenly, a splash of warmth seeps into your cunt. Ropes and ropes of hot fluids drown your pussy in white. Lottie’s eyes rolls back, phrases in French being murmured as she empties herself. She keeps you pinned down until she’s sure that no drop has been plunged into your poor, abused hole.

You lay in the dirt, not accepting that you and Lottie are now tethered. You are a child of the wilderness and no matter how far you run, Lottie’s mark will not leave you. You’re stuck with her until one of you passes. You’re only hers and you’ll have to deal with the fact.

“The wilderness will be pleased,” Lottie says with a smile wider than ever before. “We’ll have food for months.”

The wilderness has had its wishes granted. So has Lottie. But at what cost?

579 notes · View notes

pugh-bug · 2 months ago

Text

His Promised Sin

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Remmick x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, lots of mentions of religion and Satan, brief threat of sa

Finally posting this, sorry for the wait I’ve had a lot to sort out this week planning a funeral but I adored writing this. I’ll definitely be writing for Remmick again and for other Sinners characters. Any comments are appreciated so much <33

——————————————————————

In the fierce heat you trudged home, the journey only seeming longer with each step. The centre of town was five miles away on foot but there was nowhere else to buy groceries so walk you did. What you couldn’t afford to buy you grew and what you couldn’t grow you borrowed, from old friends who also couldn’t leave town. No one ever left and those who did soon returned, even the Moore brothers couldn’t stay away but you saw little of them.

Once the path shrunk into a pitiful thing only you could follow you knew you were almost home. You glanced at your ring finger thinking of Chris and the promise he’d just made before leaving. The promise of marriage. Soon. Guilt rang in your chest, working its way down to your gut and settling there.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t love him, that most suitors could live with, it was that you didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t make you laugh or cry. He didn’t make you feel anything worth much and yet you’d agreed. To Chris your politeness was excitement but you knew the truth. No man had made you excited since that night.

Creek

You pushed your weary door open with one hand and clutched your bag of goods with the other. Home at last. It was modest, nothing special, and yet it was the one place you felt comfortable. Peaceful. Some deep part of you hated how safe those words had become, how you prized surviving over thriving and hid from the world. Something better had to be out there, something you wouldn’t just settle for but embrace. Something to fuel you, fill your soul with purpose and set your nerves alight. In your lifetime nothing had matched that description except…

“Where are we going?”

You followed your new friend and classmate into the woods missing home already. If your Mother knew you were alone with a boy at night you’d be in more trouble than you could handle. No amount of grovelling would appease that woman.

“I should get home, they’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

Johnny ignored your worries, snaking an arm round your waist and pulling you close to his warm body. You froze. “You’re gonna enjoy this.” He grinned, before planting a sloppy kiss on your unsuspecting lips and attempting another.

“Get off!”

But he wasn’t concerned, not until -

“Listen!” You hissed, shoving Johnny away. Something was lingering in the trees watching your every movement. Your Daddy had taught you about hunting animals and in that moment you felt at one with his prey. Hunted. Somehow you knew where to look to see your predator, catching its gaze a few yards away.

Your heart began pounding loud as Johnny’s voice telling you to stop wasting his time. That didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing else existed but you and the glimpse of a face among the branches. A face with eyes you could hardly make out in the darkness except for red. A grin, a gleam in his eyes and a finger to his dripping lips telling you shush.

Nightfall approached as you sleepily unpacked your things, cursing yourself for craving more than you had. For daydreaming about anything but the wedding, if it ever happened. He’d only kissed you once the day his Grandma, who’s life was sadder than her death, gave her blessing. It hadn’t been the love you’d read about in books or witnessed between Smoke and Annie. It hadn’t been love at all and to worsen the blow, to fuel your disappointment, it hadn’t been lust either. A marriage of convenience.

That night you read until your eyes grew heavy and the book slipped away. You dreamt of the face from years ago, the face of something evil.

If it hadn’t have been for the open window you’d have slept through the howling wind.

Rising from your bed to close it, you heard it stop as quickly as it had started. Silence. You were left only with silence as a companion in the twilight except it seemed to want something. It stirred in the air and within you. A deep longing for a cure to the emptiness that had buried its way into your bones through years of sorrow.

Cautiously, you lit a lantern and held it to your window. Something ancient had awakened and somehow you knew Satan in the flesh was just outside. He’d been just outside all your life watching and waiting. Biding his time until you’d abandon all hope of a lasting morality and gladly give in to your sinful desires.

It seemed that night he would no longer idly watch.

Tap tap

Taking a deep breath before doing so, you walked towards the sound. Your front door. You ought to have walked like a traitor on a plank, like a person approaching death with terror. You didn’t, although a rhythmic thud sounded some alarm in your chest as you opened the door.

But there was no one there.

Relief should have been your immediate and only feeling but although it was there you felt a wave of disappointment overpower it. Had the tapping been in your head, or had the wind sent branches tumbling to your front door? The wind that had ceased long before the tapping…

You stood there for a moment letting the night air cool your body until a whisper of your name set your nerves alight.

“Y/n…”

Again, unmistakable a second time. You were not alone.

“Y/n…”

Taunting and nearby, the voice was beckoning you outside. All you had to do was answer. There was nothing but miles of forest between you and the nearest human soul. To answer would be inviting death.

As you made to enter and lock the door the air around you changed as if a gust of wind had ran through you. Alarmed you turned away from your house only to see him standing metres away. In every way he was the same demonic presence you’d encountered all those years ago without a mark of time on him. The only difference was his face, his mouth, was clean from blood. He would have looked to anyone else normal. Human. Harmless. You knew better.

“You know my name.”

A nervousness rang in your voice that only amused the visitor.

“Darlin I know lots of names, names are easy. Bet you’d even know mine if you thought about it long enough.”

You tensed at his words, his unnervingly charming manner of speaking and his grin and yet you did know. You’d always known, somehow he’d told you in the spiritual sense. In a different realm, perhaps in a different lifetime.

“Remmick.”

He bowed as if accepting a great honour, always remaining a few steps from you and your door.

“That’s what God gave me.”

His sardonic smile told you he was mocking your beliefs before he spoke again, eyeing your small house.

“Hasn’t given you much has he?”

“I have enough.”

That was the truth. You had more than you needed and less than you wanted, same as everyone else in town.

“But are you happy?”

You pursed your lips.

“I’m content.”

Remmick simply tutted, leaning closer to you with a demonic shine in his eyes.

“Ah sweetheart, contentment is the enemy of joy.”

Suddenly the emptiness you’d carried within you felt encompassing. Impossible to ignore. When your eyes met Remmick’s you knew he could see it on you, even smell it. A moment passed before you considered the small yet powerful distance between the two of you.

“Are you going to ask me to invite you in?”

Remmick rocked back on his heels, smiling comfortably to himself.

“No need to.”

You cocked your head.

“You already let me in.”

He ceased rocking.

“I didn-“

“You called out to me, you’ve been calling for my kind a long time.”

You thought of every celebration, every lonely night, every passing year you’d spent longing for something to take you away. A part of you had always felt heard, understood by some invisible force of nature - perhaps God. But God hadn’t been listening, Remmick had.

“Why now, after so long?”

He didn’t answer.

“Will you answer if I let you in?”

The light of the moon flickered in Remmick’s stare. He was undoubtedly the flame to your moth and he knew it, smiling as all those do who know they’ve won. It wasn’t just foolish to let him in it was suicidal but you felt a strange peacefulness with your decision. It was like he’d said: you’d already let him in.

Remmick watched, impressed, as you opened your door fully and gestured for him to come in. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly following you down the hall and into your kitchen. As he eyed your home, you glanced at the drawer you knew housed several knives.

Inside Remmick could almost pass for human, even to you. His eyes didn’t have the same demonic gleam they possessed outside. You watched as he ran a calloused hand down your armchair and caressed the tassels of your lampshade, like a child left unsupervised. He seemed in awe of everything and you found yourself feeling a solemn sense of pity in your heart. What kind of life did he live? Did he have a home of his own? These were questions amongst hundreds of others you craved answers for.

“Why now?”

Remmick turned toward you, still keeping a few metres distance. The air moved differently around him, sensing he did not belong. It parted for him out of fear and perhaps on some level respect for he was more ancient than any other being. He smelt of the earth as if he’d been born from roots, not a Mother’s womb.

“You weren’t sure what you wanted, til now.”

“And what do I want?”

He just smiled as if the answer was obvious and perhaps it was. You turned away from Remmick pondering his words…escape.

“That’s it.”

That voice, he spoke like a serpent. A siren. Everything the local preacher warned you about was standing before you in your own kitchen. Invited.

“Don’t look so afraid now darlin, you wanted me here.”

That he knew you couldn’t argue with, no matter how horrid a truth it was. It hadn’t been delirium or the forceful hand of another that had led you to sin. You’d had the same teachings as everyone in town, the same goodness and voice of God. It had never been enough and looking at Remmick, sensing his sinful ferocity, you knew only he would be.

“I know...”

It had barely been a whisper but you knew he’d heard. Resigned to your fate, you stared solemnly at Remmick. He stared back with the sight of countless forgotten souls.

“Will you leave…”

You let out a shaky breath, finding the floor easier to talk to.

“My body…will you leave it here when it’s done?”

Remmick took slow, almost careful, steps toward you. Once his face was mere inches from your own he shook his head, looking down at your tearful eyes as if you were a thing to be pitied. Pitied and played with.

“We’ll see where the night takes us.”

You felt weakened by his words and yet no encounter rendered you so energised. None except…

“Johnny.”

Remmick ran a sharp tongue over his sharper teeth.

“Don’t worry. He’s out of reach.”

You thought of Johnny’s incessant touches, his threats.

“Is that where anyone who meets you ends up?”

“Just the ones who deserve it.”

You looked up at Remmick taking in the shape of his jaw, the line of his nose and the unruliness of his hair. He shouldn’t have been appealing, not when his very existence went against God, but he was. With every look, every word uttered you felt yourself being pulled by an invisible force into him. Shrouded under his being.

“Do I deserve it?”

“Deserve?”

Remmick’s eyes were transfixed on your neck before he pulled away to speak once more.

“Forsake that word, it means nothing to you.”

His eyes bored into yours, you heard his words run through your entire body. You felt the sudden urge to nod in blind agreement as after all it had been Remmick who’d saved you. Answered your callings. He had been your saviour so you’d worship him as you saw fit.

“You don’t have to hide your true nature from me, I smell it on you.”

Before you could think of a reply Remmick moved, slow but purposeful like a hunting snake. You watched him mouth agape as he lowered himself down…down…down until his eyes were level with your thighs. There was nothing between you and Remmick but a thin layer of linen and yet he made no attempt to rid you of your clothes. Instead he looked up at you with a face as innocent as you believed him capable of having. He was asking for permission.

“Chris…”

Your stomach churned at the thought of him at home, eagerly telling his family of your plans.

“Isn’t here is he?”

Remmick’s voice took you out of your head, snapping you into submission.

Your only response was to lift your nightdress, keeping your eyes on his. You waited for the judgement, from who you didn’t know. There were only sinners present. Remmick took a long look, drinking in the sight before he tasted you.

“Mnghn…”

You let out before clasping a hand over your mouth. Remmick peered up at you, grinning.

“Don’t gotta be quiet for me sweetheart.”

If you were thinking of speaking there was no need, Remmick dived back in without another word. His tongue felt feverish, its movements unrelenting and hungry. You clung to the kitchen counter as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue seeming longer by the second.

“Jesus…”

But he wasn’t present, only Remmick and his tongue could end your suffering. Only the warm feeling of lust could envelope you, your mind unreachable and your soul his. No man on Earth ever made your body sing, it was as if Remmick had done this a hundred times before. You knew this feeling had been chasing you, and you it, long before the knock at your door and worse still…that you’d miss it tomorrow.

“Sweetest thing these lips have tasted.”

His words were purest filth, his mouth ancient sin spurring you on. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his mouth demanding, praying for more. He gladly obliged by adding a finger to your torment, circling your clit whilst his tongue had its way. Your grip on the counter tightened, your eyes pleading to close but Remmick’s eyes on you said no: don’t look away. Savour every minute. Savour him.

It was too much: Remmick’s devouring, his words, his scent and the feeling of oblivion growing hotter in your core. Your hand found its way into his hair, gripping him harder than the counter only invigorating him.

“Yes angel, just like that.”

Every cell in your body felt magnetised to him as you came with a howl of his name and fire in your lungs. You hardly registered Remmick’s awe filled eyes on your shaking body, pre occupied with seeing every star in the universe. The room, the house it all felt small. Inconsequential. You were rising above it or perhaps sinking below, you no longer cared.

“Better?”

Remmick rose to steady you with strong arms, not waiting for an answer. His fingers and mouth were wet with your slick but he made no effort to clean himself. You had half a mind to grab his face between your hands and bite, kiss and lick yourself off him but his words halted you.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

He traced the shape of your face with his index finger admiring you almost like a lover would, a starved one. Your breath hitched when his hand found your throat and ever so gently squeezed.

“Your blood is louder than most.”

“You can hear it?”

“Always have.”

You pictured Remmick following your pulse to Johnny’s chosen spot, basking in the cover of twilight before draining him dry. It was an image you’d torn apart and rebuilt countless times when trying to forget. But in your kitchen, with Remmick’s teeth so close to your neck and your escape in reach it seemed almost comforting. The inevitability of it all eased your lost soul, the knowing that no force on Earth could steer Remmick from your path. His path was yours and yours his, always had been.

You craned your neck for him, closing your eyes to bask in what would surely be the beginning of something unholy but no bite came. Remmick guided your head back in place, a solemn finality in his gleaming eyes.

“Dawn’s comin.”

He gestured to your window and sure enough a sunrise was brewing, threatening to end your night of living. Your mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Remmick licked what was left of your slick off his fingers, tasting as if you were a delicacy. In the time it took for your eyes to blink he was gone yet the scent of him lingered. You imagined it always would, that a part of him as he said would remain with you. He’d doomed you both, promised without such words to end your stagnant suffering and damn you to Hell.

You dreamt of following him there gladly, knowing your time would come soon enough.

Part 2

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Masterlist

Resources

Taglist: @bluevenus19 @ajanehopper @jjubilee-fluff @troyottonick @solsoris @megangovier

#remmick #remmick x reader #Remmick x reader smut #Remmick x you #sinners #sinners Remmick #vampires #Remmick fanfic #Remmick fanfiction #Remmick smut #sinners remmick smut #sinners 2025 #jack o'connell

511 notes · View notes

brokenmenswhore · 3 months ago

Text

a proposition: a departure | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: not proofread, smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex (biting/bruising/choking, full moon remus), period sex

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius,

You all probably guessed I'd do this again. I know it's never gonna happen between us. But now, you have to know that whenever you do get Y/N, I had her first. Good job playing favorites, Black. Next time maybe don’t be so desperate.

I really thought that coming back, things would be different, but you lot aren't worth my time anymore. Tell Lily I said bye. Tell Dorcas to fuck herself.

-Marlene

Sirius squinted in the sunlight as the wind breezed through his hair, the cigarette between his fingers wafting smoke into Remus's face as Remus finished reading the letter.

He passed it to James, who read it quickly before dropping it onto the bench Sirius was seated on. James leaned his back against a tree as he sat on the grass. "Well shit."

"Guess that problem is gone now," Sirius said, blowing out smoke.

“Why’d she even come back in the first place?” James asked, “just to spite you?”

Sirius shrugged.

“Guess Ilvermorny still had a spot for her,” Remus said.

“I really couldn’t give a fuck where she goes,” Siri snapped.

“Upset she left again, Pads?” Remus teased, knowing he was poking the bear.

“Fuck you,” Sirius responded.

“You can’t seriously be this mad just because she fucked Y/N.”

Sirius didn’t respond, he just did his usual deflection: taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Is it like a power play thing? Cus she’s a little younger?” James pried, “is that why you like her so much?”

“I do not like her so much.”

“We’re your best mates, Padfoot, we know you.”

Sirius took a deep breath. “What do you want me to say, hm? Yeah, I’m pissed Marlene fucked her, but only because I feel bad that Y/N had to endure that shit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Remus smirked.

“Shut up,” Sirius snapped.

“Cool off,” James said, “Remus has also fucked Y/N. Multiple times. Are you gonna rip him apart with your teeth for it?”

Sirius just sighed and ignored the question.

“Just talk to us,” Remus pleaded, “tell us what’s going on.”

“She doesn’t know I’m the one Marlene fell for,” Sirius said, his hair falling in front of his face as he stared at his hands in his lap, “I mean, she might have figured it out, but I never told her. I doubt anyone else did.”

“What does it matter if she knows?” James asked.

Sirius took a deep breath. “It doesn’t. Never mind.”

“C’mon man, don’t shut us out,” Remus pleaded.

Sirius stretched out his back and tucked one side of his hair behind his ear. “I’m not.”

“Padfoot.”

“Moony.”

“Padfoot.”

“Moony.”

“Fucking talk to us.”

“I am talkin’ to you.”

Remus threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. But whatever the fuck is happening with you and Y/N is gonna have to come out eventually. It’s easier if you just say it now.”

Sirius contemplated, and James and Remus thought they got him to the point of speaking, but instead, he took the lit end of his cigarette and pressed it against the edge of the parchment from Marlene, watching as it burned away in his hands.

“Good riddance,” Sirius said.

────── ☾ ──────

If Marlene’s plan was to shake your confidence, it was working.

The day after you had sex with her, she bolted again. You tried not to think so self-centered about it, but you had a gut feeling that you were involved in her decision somehow.

“Am I bad at sex?” you blurted out.

You and Remus sat alone on a hill, the only two of the group who weren’t attending a brunch in the great hall.

“What?” Remus replied, “why would you ask that?”

“It’s just, you know- you know Marlene and I did it, and then the next day-“

“Stop right there,” Remus said, “Marlene has always been, and will always be, frustratingly complicated. Don’t blame yourself. Some of us are actually pretty thrilled she left again.”

You shrugged. “I just get the feeling I had something to do with it. Is that selfish?”

“Not at all,” Remus said, and contemplated for a moment before saying, “you didn’t do anything wrong. She was destined to hate you from the moment she learned Sirius was the one who wanted you first.”

“Why?”

“C’mon, Y/L/N, I know you’re smarter than that.”

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew. If you thought about it, it wasn’t hard to decipher. Marlene always sat next to Sirius, made comments about her time with him, and it would help explain her disdain for you. You remembered how vague Sirius was about her every time she came up, and how he didn’t specific who she had left over when you asked him that first day she came back.

“So it was because of me,” you sighed, “I caused all this drama.”

“If you really wanna trace the root of the blame, I’m pointing the finger at Sirius,” Remus smiled.

You pouted, but Remus continued, “no one is to blame. Marlene has always been a firecracker.”

You let the words sink in, but Remus could still tell something was off.

“We’re all really happy to have you around,” Remus said, nudging your shoulder with his own.

You let out a deep breath. “Is Sirius mad?”

“Why would Sirius be mad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sirius is complicated. But he never reciprocated what Marlene felt. Never wanted what she wanted. And Marlene doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”

“So what happened? She pursued him and got upset when he said no?”

Remus sighed. “She didn’t tell anyone what was going on, she just kept going to Sirius. They fucked a lot, but she never let on that it was anything more for her. We all agreed we wouldn’t let it get there; she should have called it the second she started feeling it. One night, we were all hanging out, and a couple of girls came over and started flirting with Sirius. He’s always been a flirt, the smooth bastard. We all knew he wasn’t gonna do anything, but it bothered Marlene. She got in a really physical fight with one of the girls.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. The girl said she didn’t know Sirius was dating her, and Marlene said she was. Sirius got mad, and Marlene started shouting about how it should have been obvious that she was in love with him. When she stopped yelling, she told Sirius that she wanted him to be exclusive with her because she has feelings for him, and that she didn’t want him to sleep with anyone else. Sirius said no.“

“So she left?”

“She didn’t speak to any of the guys for four days. Then she tried to flirt with Sirius’s brother in front of him. Yeah, everyone outside of the group was off limits, but Sirius’s little brother was super off limits. Still is, so don’t get any ideas,” Remus winked at you, “Sirius and Marlene got in another fight, and she literally got on her knees and begged him to date her. I kinda felt bad for her, honestly. He turned her down again, and she threw a lamp across the room. The next morning, she was gone, and Dorcas found a note saying she was spending the rest of the semester, and probably another one, at Ilvermorny in America. And that was that.”

You nodded slowly. You couldn’t help but pry. “Why’d he say no?”

“What?”

“Why’d he turn her down? I mean-“ the sentence was lost in your throat.

“Sirius isn’t that kind of guy,” Remus said.

A moment of silence.

And then, “well, at least he wasn’t.”

“Meaning?”

“Sirius isn’t the crazy sex-fiend everyone thinks he is,” Remus said, “never was. He’s got the lowest body count of any of us. James has us all beat at this point. Anyway, Sirius was never a settle-down-with-one-person kind of guy. It takes him a while to get fully comfortable with someone. It took a full year after we started having sex for him to even take his shirt off in front of me. He’s gotten a lot more confident since then, but still, that person has always been inside. So when he did get comfortable with someone, like he is with everyone in the group, all he wanted to do was have a good time and not worry about it. He’s also pretty fucking horny all the time.”

“Is that why he hasn’t tried anything with me? He’s not comfortable?”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s it,” Remus said, leaning back on his hands in the grass, “I think he doesn’t know how. He’s different with you.”

“You keep saying shit like that,” you said.

“Because he was always so insecure, Sirius has never been, even with his newfound confidence, someone we ever expected would willingly suggest someone to add to this group. But he wanted you.”

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Why?”

“I think he’s feeling something a little unfamiliar.”

“Do you always speak in riddles?”

Remus laughed. “I think he likes you, not in the way he likes Dorcas, or Evan, or Lily. Maybe not even me. I think you make him feel in control- like what he says or does matters. Like one small look has an impact on you. That’s not something he’s used to.”

You took a second to process everything you had been told. You had Sirius completely wrong. All you wanted was to give him a hug.

“You’re also wicked hot,” Remus added, “so that probably helped.”

You smiled and nudged his shoulder to show your appreciation for him lightening the mood.

“So you never answered my question,” you said, changing the subject slightly.

“Hm?”

“Am I bad at sex?”

“You must be kidding,” Remus said.

“Avoidance tells me everything I need to know,” you joked.

Remus giggled. “‘Course you’re not bad at sex, baby, otherwise I wouldn’t be so damned obsessed with you.”

Remus leaned over and bit at your neck, pushing you until your back was against the grass.

“Rem!” you squealed, playfully pushing him off of you.

Remus continued to nip and suck at your neck, refusing to let up.

“Remmy! We’re outside!” you protested.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you, you shouldn’t be calling me Remmy,” he nearly purred, “you know what it does to me.”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

Remus growled as he leaned down to kiss you. “Someone horny?”

“I get,” you let out a breath, fighting through the embarrassment, “I get like that on my period.”

You thought it would turn Remus off. It did the opposite.

He kissed you, pressing you even more into the ground as he hungrily gripped at your hips.

“Rem,” you tried to catch his attention between kisses, “Remmy, we’re still outside.”

Remus stopped to look you in the eyes. “And?”

You nearly whispered, “I’m not gonna fuck you outside, Remus! We could be seen.”

“I really don’t care.”

Remus leaned down to kiss you again.

“I’m on my period, Remus, Remus-“

“Don’t care,” he said between kisses, “don’t care that we’re outside,” kiss, “don’t care about your period,” kiss, “full moon in two days,” kiss, “I want you now.”

“But the blood-“

“I don’t care,” kiss, “about the blood,” kiss, “if you don’t,” kiss, “it actually,” kiss, “makes the wolf in me,” kiss, “need you even more.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing.

“The wolf in you?” you giggled, “that sounds so ridiculous.”

Remus just watched you laugh.

“I can’t believe,” deep breath through the laughs, “that you’re literally a wolf.”

When your breathing calmed down and you blinked up at Remus, he was smiling down at you in adoration.

“You done?” he asked.

You giggled. “You’re a wolf.”

“Mhm.”

“And isn’t Sirius a dog?”

“Baby.”

That caused your breath to hitch for a moment. “You called me baby again.”

Remus’s smile just grew. “Mhm.”

A throat-clearing cough sounded behind you.

You both looked behind you to see Sirius standing there, a book in his arms, and no cigarette to be seen.

“I’m a little busy, Pads,” Remus said, squinting slightly in the sunlight.

“Professor McGonagall is asking for you,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

Remus bowed his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath before kissing your shoulder and hoisting himself up. He flicked Sirius’s chest as he stepped past him to go toward McGonagall’s office.

You sat up and smoothed your hair out, trying to look decent as Sirius sat next to you in Remus’s spot.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sirius said, only a slight inflection of unseriousness in his voice.

“You didn’t, you didn’t,” you responded, “wasn’t like I was gonna have sex out in the open.”

“Kinda seemed like it,” Sirius smiled.

You turned to him. “You’re not gonna ask me about Marlene?”

“Do you want me to?”

You looked off into the distance. “Not really.”

“Then we don’t need to talk about it,” Sirius said, swinging his bag onto the ground in front of him, and pulling out two crepes.

“Here,” Sirius said, gesturing one toward you.

“Where’d you get these?” you asked.

“Stole ‘em from the kitchens.”

You blinked in confusion. “What were you doing down by the Hufflepuff dorms?” The Hufflepuff dorms were next to the castle kitchens.

“Stealing crepes,” he said casually.

“You went all the way to the Hufflepuff hall just to sneak into the kitchen and steal crepes?”

Sirius shrugged. “Or maybe I went to find you, and had to pivot,” he said, turning to you and winking.

You blushed, just like you always did when he even so much as looked at you.

Sirius tilted his head like a puppy, lifting your chin and looking into your eyes. “You still gettin’ all blushy around me?”

“Shut up,” you said, taking one of the crepes from him.

When you were both about a quarter of the way through your crepes, you broke the silence to say, “now I’m thinking it’s weird if we don’t talk about it.”

Sirius nodded and set his crepe on the ground, shifting so that he was sitting facing you, his legs crossed beneath him. He shook the sugar off of his hands and looked to you expectantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me she had feelings for you? Is there some reason you didn’t want me to know?”

Sirius took a moment to think through his answer. After taking a breath, he said, “Marlene and I have a complicated history.”

“Remus told me what happened,” you said.

“I didn’t want to put you in the line of fire.”

“I can handle myself,” you said, “I feel like I deserved to know.”

“You did,” was all Sirius said, “but I didn’t want you to have a skewed perception of me.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would I have skewed perception of you?”

“Because I would have had to explain that I turned her down because I don’t do relationships,” he said, “but- fuck, Y/N.”

“Why would that matter? I already knew that going into this, Sirius. What aren’t you telling me?” you asked as gently as you possibly could.

Sirius didn’t speak. He leaned forward, and in a split second, was on you, pressing his lips against yours.

You instantly molded your lips with his, one of your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

He growled lowly as his hand found the side of your head, holding you as he moved his lips against yours. He slightly pushed your head even closer to his own, eager and hungry.

His tongue asked for entrance, and you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to find your own.

Just as Sirius started to unfold his legs to lean over you more, a group of fifth year Quidditch players ran up the hill behind you, laughing and talking loudly.

You and Sirius pulled away from one another like you had just been caught red handed, and stared into the distance.

────── ☾ ──────

You nearly screamed as you woke up to a hand over your mouth. You blinked your eyes open to see Remus looming over you in the darkness.

“Relax,” he whispered, and when you nodded your head up and down, he uncovered your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered back, “how’d you get in?”

“I had my ways,” Remus said, “I need you. Now.”

You squinted your eyes toward the clock above the dormitory door. “It’s twelve-thirty in the morning, and I have dorm mates.”

“I cast a silencing spell. They won’t hear,” he said, stroking your hair gently, “please. I need you bad.”

“At twelve-thirty in the morning?”

“Y/N, for fucks sake, I’m trying to hold it back right now, but there’s a full moon tomorrow night, and it’s literally taking everything in me not to just rip your clothes off. I only have it in me to ask once. I need you. Please.”

Heat and wetness pooled at your core as you observed the ravenous look in Remus’s eyes. You had heard many anecdotes about how crazy Remus became with sex before a full moon. It made you unspeakably horny.

“So take me, then.”

Remus growled as he nearly pounced on you, straddling your waist as he kissed you hard, pulling your clothes off of your body as quickly as he possibly could.

He ripped the buttons of your nightshirt as he pulled the fabric apart, exposing your breasts to the cool night air.

“Mine,” he said, his voice low and deep, as he licked and nipped at your breasts.

He kissed a trail back to your neck and bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but not the softest he could either. You whined, and it only egged Remus on more.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, baby,” he whispered into your ear.

"Period," you said, "remember?"

"Only making me harder," Remus admitted.

He trailed his hand down your navel and rubbed his thumb over your lower stomach, watching as you shuddered in anticipation. He moved his hand lower, but completely avoided your core, opting to shift to your thighs and lovingly rub the skin there.

You swallowed hard, your want growing desperately as you waited for him to touch you where he needed you most.

When he moved his hand again, he traced above your folds, but still refused to touch you where you wanted.

You bucked your hips in hopes that it would move his hand, but he wasn’t budging. He grinned as he watched you. “You want something?” he teased.

You were so desperate that you could cry. “Please,” you gasped out.

“Please what?”

“Please, Remmy, touch me,” you begged.

Remus gripped your hips hard and flipped your body so that you slammed down on the mattress onto your stomach. You squealed in surprise as he hoisted your ass upward. You lifted your front up on your arms and turned your head to watch Remus dive in between your legs.

Moans spilled from your lips as he tasted you like you were his last meal on earth. He was not gentle at all. His tongue moved faster than you thought it possibly could. The intensity had your spine lifting and dropping as you breathed heavy, and you nearly couldn't stand it.

You knew that asking for anything would only add to his arousal, and you wanted to see the full extent of near-a-full-moon Remus worked up. So you whined, "Rem, I need more."

Remus chuckled. "Already bein' so rough, baby. You want more? You think you can handle it?"

You nodded your head furiously against the pillow. "Please, I'll be good."

Remus, without teasing or warning, slid two fingers inside of you and knelt behind you, leaning over your back so that his voice was directly next to your ear. You cried out at the feeling of his fingers fucking into you, and he growled into your ear, "yeah? You wanna be a good girl? Someone feeling submissive?"

There was something about a man kneeling beneath you and focusing on your pleasure that did, in face, make you feel a little submissive. You didn't always want to be, especially now that you were comfortable enough with se to be experimental, but Remus was being so aggressive and possessive and you liked him so much.

"Yeah," you whimpered, "please."

"Please? Please what? Be a good girl and use your words," he taunted.

"I'm gonna come," you nearly gasped.

Remus increased the pace of his fingers, biting your shoulder as your walls pulsed around him. You pressed your face into the pillow, but Remus yanked your hair, pulling your head backwards. You rested on your neck, which was uncomfortable, but completely worth it to be manhandled.

"I wanna hear you," he said.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm hit you hard, coating Remus's fingers as he withdrew them from you.

He brought them to his lips and sucked the come and blood from them. You turned your head and watched as he cleaned his fingers, ridding them of any period blood.

The orgasm felt almost the same, but the pleasure helped rid your stomach of the constant knots it was doing this period cycle.

Remus bent back down behind your ass and licked a stripe on your core, causing you to shudder and your thighs to shake.

"You taste so fucking good," he said.

"Sadist," you joked.

"Not quite," Remus said, kitten licking the blood dripping down your thighs, "werewolf."

Remus got up and knelt over you again, one hand anchoring himself against your hips, and the other holding him up next to your head. "Mine," he said, harshly slapping your ass.

His eyes did not leave your face. He gave himself a few strokes of preparation, lined himself up to you entrance, and slid himself into you, all without drifting his eyes once.

Your back arched. You felt a cramp begin to hit your lower stomach, but as Remus thrust all the way out and then fucked entirely back in with one harsh stroke, the pain subsided.

Your body jolted forward, and he did it again. His thrusts were rough, almost as if he was trying to see just how deep he could bury himself inside of you.

He grabbed your hair and pulled so hard that your back hit against his chest. He wrapped the hand around your throat while the other held your hip, holding you against him as he roughed you as rough as he possibly could.

"Mine," he said, nipping at your neck.

You moved one arm behind you to tangle your fingers through his hair and keep him close to you, the sweat and heat from his body giving you an anchor to reality.

"Mine," he chanted like a mantra, "you're fucking mine."

You twisted your head to the side to kiss him, and his hand traveled from your throat to your jaw, holding you there as he stuck his tongue into your mouth, maintaining dominance of your entire body.

He pulled away for a moment, said "need you closer," and pulled out of you, motioning for your to twist around.

You shifted on your knees, and Remus placed your arms around his neck. "Hold on," he said, scooping his arms under your thighs. You instinctually wrapped your legs around his waist, and he backed up off the bed, standing tall as you clung to his body.

He fucked back into you again, gripping your ass as he moved your body in tandem with his.

He kissed you again, and you held onto him as closely as you could, leaving absolutely no room between your bodies.

"Tell me you're mine," Remus moaned.

You could barely speak from the intensity and the new angle. You just whined in response.

Remus, knowing he was strong enough to hold you up with only one hand, moved his other hand to grip your jaw and force you to look at him. "Fucking tell me you're mine."

Something told you that near-a-full-moon Remus was not to be denied.

"I'm yours," you whimpered.

"Say it again." He fucked you faster.

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours, Remmy."

Remus kissed you roughly as he pounded into you, and you could tell he was getting close. His groans and grunts in your ear pulled you to another orgasm, and just as yours hit, Remus came with a roar.

He pulled out of you and fell forward onto the bed, trapping you between the mattress and his body.

"Fuck," you said.

Remus took a moment to look your body over, and be gently kissed any bruising on your shoulder or neck. "'M sorry, baby."

Trying desperately to catch your breath, you choked out, "woulda stopped you if I didn't like it."

Remus let out a satisfied hum and kissed you softly.

────── ☾ ──────

The next morning, you rushed to the Gryffindor dorms and waited for Lily to open the door. The moment she did, you enlisted her help to cover the bruising on your neck. Your shoulder was covered by your uniform, but you most certainly did not want to walk around the castle with what looked like a hickey.

You thanked her once it was covered, and followed her to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The group was in high spirits since Marlene left again, Dorcas especially.

As you sat down, you heard Sirius ask Remus, "so where did you disappear to last night?"

Remus finished chewing and then said, "wanted a snack."

"The fuck does that mean?" James asked.

Remus just shrugged his shoulders. No one was discreet about sex, but Remus didn't know where your comfortability level was. You didn't know it, but he was also playing it very safe around Sirius, who he knew might kill him if he learned that Remus left you covered in bruises.

"I wanted a snack," Remus said, "I look like I fuckin' speak in riddles?"

James threw his hands up. "Bloody hell, maybe."

Sirius said, "like in the kitchens?"

Remus smiled. "Almost."

You blushed as he looked to you and winked.

James caught the wink. "Merlin's beard, Y/N, you really do have your favorites."

"Hey hey hey," you said, "in my defense, he came to me."

"Take it easy, James, it was his last night before he goes to the Shrieking Shack, remember?" Lily said.

Sirius whipped his head toward you, then to Remus.

Dorcas let out a high, cheer-like noise. "Congratulations on getting to experience full moon Remus, Y/L/N! It's pretty fuckin' sexy, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, I nearly bruise when it's me," Mary added.

"Me too! Luckily Remus is really careful not to actually bruise, but bloody hell he's rough. Ain't that right, Remus?" Dorcas smiled.

Remus only smiled and winked at you.

Lily added fuel to the fire. "You guys can't notice concealer for shit, huh?"

You were blushing like crazy, fighting to stop yourself from curling into a ball of embarrassment.

"No fucking shit," Dorcas said, pulling one side of your shirt collar and exposing one of the bruises on your shoulder, "Remus!"

Remus threw his hands up in the air. "Listen, she said she liked it, ok? Don't hate the player."

"You said you bite the headboard to keep yourself from biting us!"

"She said she liked it!"

"So you just bit her?"

"Maybe."

You hid your head in your hands.

Dorcas pat you in the back. "Good for you, Y/N. The innocent little Hufflepuff might be the biggest freak of all of us."

You smiled at Dorcas as she resumed eating her breakfast.

The group moved on, talking about exams and gossip, but when you looked to see Evan speaking next to Sirius, your eyes caught on Sirius's. He was looking straight at you.

You raised your eyebrows in a way that was meant to ask him what he was looking at you for.

Are you hurt? he mouthed.

You nodded your head no. Promise, you mouthed.

Still, he didn't seem to relax. His nostrils flared as he maintained his staring at you. You furrowed your brows in a way that was meant to ask him what else he was still staring at you for.

He turned away.

────── ☾ ──────

"You good?" Remus said, setting his robe down on his desk as he slumped down in his chair.

"Fine," Sirius nearly seethed.

"Man, you've been pissy all day. What's going on?" Remus pried.

Sirius took a deep breath. "You know what."

"I don't."

"If you're smart, you should."

"Well I'm dumb, so enlighten me," Remus challenged.

Sirius took a deep breath and turned to Remus, his hands leaning on the back of his own chair. "You fuckin' covered her in bruises."

Remus sat up a bit. "That's what this is about? Are you fucking serious?"

"You promised the girls that you wouldn't hurt them near a full moon, Remus. You fucking lied to them."

"No no no," Remus stood up, "that's not what this is about. You couldn't give a fuck if I lied to the girls. No, you're mad because it's Y/N, aren't you?"

"I'd be mad if it was any of the girls." Remus only pursued the girls near the full moon, in part due to wolf mating rituals, and in part because it was too easy to hurt the boys if he was too rough too fast.

"I don't believe you," Remus said.

"Boo hoo."

Remus stepped closer to Sirius. "You were literally the one who made 'no feelings' a rule."

"I do not have feelings for Y/N," Sirius defended.

"Oh, I'm sure."

Sirius stood tall. "You've got her walking around looking like you fucking beat her up, Remus, I'm allowed to be mad."

Remus took a deep breath to try and keep his cool. "It's not like I threw her around against her will, Pads. She liked it."

Sirius didn't respond.

Remus stepped closer to Sirius "She liked it so fucking much. She was begging for more before I even fucked her proper. And she's even hornier on her period."

Sirius turned so that he and Remus were face to face.

"C'mon, do it," Remus challenged.

But he knew that Sirius wouldn't hit him. He knew that, at the end of the day, Sirius was aware when he was acting out of turn. Sirius had no claim on you. He just hated that it felt like Remus now did.

"Fuck off," Sirius said, turning away and digging through the bag set on his chair.

"You have feelings for her. I honestly didn't think you were capable."

"I'm not," Sirius said.

"Admit it."

"No."

"You're mad because she's walking around with my bite marks on her body and not yours, and you're mad because she turns to me when she wants to be fucked."

"You tryna bait me, Lupin?" Sirius seethed.

"Maybe."

"Stop."

"C'mon, Sirius, talk to me."

Sirius sighed. His voice came out soft and concerned, a complete 180 turn from the rest of the conversation, as he turned to his best friend in the entire world. "How can you be sure you didn't hurt her?"

Remus smiled softly. "I promise you I would have stopped if I thought I was hurting her more than she wanted or could handle."

Sirius let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in. "Okay."

────── ☾ ──────

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1K notes · View notes

mirrored-muse · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Can you do something where the yellowjackets want a day to relax but shauna is shauna 💀

But they notice how she is always trying to be close to reader and is soft on her and all of that, so they beg reader to go and seduce shauna

Reader is like: NO SHES SCARY AND HATES ME

But it happens anyways

Imagine van making sure everything is going fine with the plan by listening outside of shaunas hut 😭

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 959

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʜɪ, ᴛʏꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ. 🙏🙏 ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ. 😭 ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ. <3

Shauna’s on edge again.

You feel it before she even says a word, like a storm rolling in from the trees. Her footsteps are too fast, her voice too clipped, the way she glares at everyone like they’re one breath away from pissing her off. You’re by the fire with Van, Tai, and Mari, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut.

“She’s pacing again,” Tai mutters, glancing over her shoulder.

“Maybe she’s just bored,” you offer, not really believing it.

Van snorts. “She’s not bored. She’s stewing.”

“About what?” Mari asks. “We haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “We’re not doing anything. She hates that.”

You follow their gaze to where Shauna is stalking past the tree line, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She’s been like that all day, snapping at Akilah for burning part of the squirrel meat and muttering to herself when Lottie suggested a group meditation session.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Van says under her breath, eyeing you. “Unless someone distracts her.”

Mari raises a brow. “You volunteering?”

“Hell no.”

Then everyone else turns to look at you.

You blink. “What?”

Tai smirks. “She listens to you.”

“She doesn’t listen. She just… isn’t as mean to me.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “You have the magic touch.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Oh, come on,” Mari says. “Just go in there and flirt a little. She chills out. We get a break.”

“Do you hear yourselves?” you say. “You want me to go flirt with Oshauna bin Laden.”

Van laughs and leans in, shaking her head, “She likes you.”

You freeze, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Come on. You haven’t noticed?” Tai says, kicking a stick into the fire. “She follows you around like a guard dog.”

“She’s always watching you,” Van adds. “And not in the ‘I hate you’ way. In the ‘I’m obsessed with you and I don’t know how to process human emotions’ way.”

Your mouth goes dry. You glance toward Shauna again, now crouched near her hut, sharpening a knife like it personally offended her.

“She’s scary,” you say.

“Yeah,” Van agrees. “But maybe she’d be less scary if she got, you know… a little attention.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you seriously trying to pimp me out right now?”

“We’re asking you to flirt with a girl who you already know wants you,” Mari says. “Not take a bullet.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fine. But if she guts me, I’m haunting all of you.”

Van grins and gives you a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit.”

⸻

You approach her hut slowly like she might lunge at you if you move too fast. Shauna doesn’t look up when you duck past the flap of hide covering the entrance of her hut. She’s crouched over something, knives or bones or both. Her hair’s a little tangled, her brow furrowed in that way that makes her look even more pissed off than she probably is.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

She glances up, then back down. “What?”

Okay. Off to a great start.

You shift awkwardly. “Just, uh… checking in.”

Shauna snorts. “You sound like Lottie.”

You smile nervously. “That bad, huh?”

She finally looks at you. Really looks. Her eyes soften a fraction.

“What do you want?” she asks, slightly less hostile this time.

You inch closer, trying to sell the whole flirty angle, though it feels like walking a tightrope with a bear below you.

“I don’t know. Everyone’s been a little stir-crazy. Thought maybe you could use some company.”

Shauna stares at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her.

“I’m fine,” she says. “They should stop acting like this is summer camp.”

“You ever think maybe you’re wound a little too tight?”

Her eyes narrow. “Is that why you’re here? They send you in to fix me?”

You’re busted.

You scramble. “No- well, kind of. But also… I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Shauna blinks.

You take a risk and step closer, sitting down across from her. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that unreadable expression.

“I don’t think you need to be “fixed”,” you say quietly.

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty scared right now.”

You bite your lip. “I’m not scared. Just… cautious. You’re intense.”

Shauna leans forward slightly. “You want me to back off?”

“No,” you say, heart pounding. “I want you to stop acting like you don’t care.”

Silence fills the air for a moment.

Shauna’s jaw clenches. Then slowly, she sets the knife down beside her.

“I don’t care about them,” she says. “But you? I don’t know what to do with you.”

You meet her eyes, a small smile on your lips. “You could try kissing me?”

For half a second, she doesn’t move, just stares at you. Then she does, fast, rough, and hungry. Her hand tangles in your shirt, pulling you in, and her mouth crashes against yours like she’s been holding back for weeks. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle.

It’s desperate.

You kiss her back just as hard, fisting the front of her shirt, tugging her closer until you’re both on your knees, pressed against each other.

Outside, leaves crunch. Someone stumbles back from the hut.

You inwardly groan, knowing it’s Van.

You pull back, breathless. Shauna’s eyes are blown wide, her cheeks flushed.

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head toward the flap of hide in the doorway.

“Someone’s listening,” she mutters.

You smile. “Should’ve known they’d send a chaperone.”

Shauna smirks. Then she slides her hands under your shirt, gripping your bare hip firmly. Possessive.

“Let her listen.”

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returnofeternity · 3 months ago

Note

hii! i just watched the finale and would like to request reader who's dating natalie and involved in the plan to get them out of there. maybe instead of natalie hiking alone, reader goes with her? anyway, i really enjoy reading your fics <3

synopsis. you're involved in the plan to call for rescue.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

warnings. ⚠️ season finale spoilers ⚠️

wc: 1,905

· · 𖦹 · ·

all you can do is stare blankly at the transponder in misty's hand, nat saying everything you feel as she yells at her.

"fuck you! fuck you! fuck you! fuck you, misty!"

misty looks desperately between you two, a pulse of utter anxiety flushing through her body as you stay completely silent while glowering at her. "i know, i just, believe me, i wish i could undo it."

the next thing you know, misty's on the ground, looking all puppy dog-ish as her mouth bleeds. it manages to break you out of your detachment from reality, and you stumble forward to put a hand on nat's shoulder as she leans over and wipes her face. she looks back at you, nodding to let you know she's alright.

"are you gonna tell everyone?" misty cries, and for a split second, you feel bad after hearing her shaky voice.

"tell me how this could get us home." nat almost sounds like she's begging, like she's praying that this could work, that misty could get all of them home.

something in your heart seizes as misty goes on to explain how the scientist had this "radio phone" and how van's been trying to fix it. the hope that left after hannah killed kodi slowly starts to reappear, and you kneel next to nat, listening intently to misty as she explains her plan.

you feel anxious on the morning of the hunt.

you already know what's supposed to happen, but instances of things going wrong play in your mind. specifically, nat picking the queen card. or you picking the queen card.

if you picked the queen card, nothing in the plan would change. if nat picks it, there's no hope. you believe in her. she can get you guys out of here.

you lick your dry lips and stare at nat, who is putting on this black pigment around her eyes. you think she sort of looks like a raccoon.

"if i pick the queen, you'd still go right?" you mumble. speaking about it just feels weird. it's been so long since a hunt occurred out here. and talking about it makes it feel even more real. "you wouldn't mess the plan up just to save me?"

"i don't wanna think about that." nat responds, because the answer is yes, she probably would fuck the plan up if you picked it, even if she desperately wants the girls to get rescued.

"van says she has it under control anyway." you try to look on the bright side, even if it means rigging the hunt against an innocent teammate. she didn't specifically say the word rigging, but you can guess what she was insinuating.

nat nods and turns to you, rolling her shoulders as she adjusts her fur coats. before you can speak, the question you've been wanting to ask on the tip of your tongue, you hear the blow of a horn.

· · 𖦹 · ·

you feel satisfaction in your soul as mari shoves shauna, and you smile lightly as nat and van rush to keep shauna from pouncing. you're with mari and some of the others, helping her back up, and all the tension comes crawling back to you when lottie starts counting again.

"you deserve everything that's coming to you!" mari tells shauna before running off.

you really hope she has a chance.

you glance at nat as everyone else looks around, wondering what to do. it's when lottie looks at them that everyone starts walking towards the table to grab their weapons. you nod at nat and pull your hood over your head, snaking the cloth around your neck to cover your mouth as you head over to grab your knife.

you start jogging into the forest, not wanting to seem suspicious if you had waited for nat. you hide behind a tree, watching all of them rushing for mari, whooping and screaming, and as nat starts running out with her spear, you follow behind.

· · 𖦹 · ·

nat drops down and frantically pulls away the snow-covered bush and twigs. you watch from behind and keep a look out, shaking your legs with anxiety as you make out the faint sounds of animalistic hollering.

"they sound close." you whisper to nat, kneeling next to her as she opens the box. "hurry."

both of you freeze when you hear a bush rustle from behind.

you glance at each other, barely moving your necks, and you look down at the radio to try and tell her, "close the fucking thing. let's get out of here."

you could almost smile at how well she knows your look as she shuts it quickly, but you're too terrified right now. she grabs the box whlie you shove the blanket back underneath the bushes and twigs, leaving it like it was almost never disturbed.

almost.

you were in a hurry, what can you say?

· · 𖦹 · ·

you swear you hear a third set of footsteps run behind you as nat and you sprint in the direction of the mountain.

you stop nat with a pull of her coat. "i think someone's following us."

she breathes heavily, trying to catch her breath. she thinks so too. whoever it is has been with you guys since she retrieved the box. she adjusts her mask and looks around, squinting for a sign of someone out there. they can't be far behind.

"we hide. wait for them to come to us." her teeth clatter as she speaks, and you step forward to grab her forearms, rubbing them up and down to try and warm her up.

"i take this one, you take that one?" you ask, nodding to the trees.

she agrees and the both of you hide.

the two of you wait for the culprit, your toes freezing and your body on the brink of shutting down. the fuck is taking them so long?! did they get bored of following you? you're just about to come out and tell nat that you should just keep going when you hear the sound of rustling, then the sound of nat pushing whoever it is against a tree.

you come out with your knife, eyes widening as nat lifts their mask to reveal hannah underneath.

"please," she begs, looking between the two of you. "i'm on your side, i swear."

you raise your knife to her throat as nat speaks. "of course you are, you're on everyone's side."

"if i didn't kill kodi, shauna was going to kill us both." hannah explains.

"that's why you're following us? for ssshauna?" nat stutters, the cold clearly taking a toll on her.

hannah gives her story about how she's trying to survive out here, the same as any one of you. it makes you realize how true it is, how all the shit you guys have done out here is just for survival, no matter how fucked up. you start to lower your knife but keep your forearm on her chest, and turn your head to look at nat.

"i think she's being honest." you say, your voice muffled slightly due to your mask. no way in hell you're taking it off. it's too cold.

nat's still shaking, both from the cold and anxiety about whether or not to trust hannah. she lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes off of her, lowering her spear. "okay. okay. what do you have in mind?"

· · 𖦹 · ·

you watch as nat and hannah exchange clothes, glimmers of hope flickering in your chest that this could work. it could. they're both similar in height, nobody could really tell so long as hannah keeps the mask on and avoids talking to anyone. which could be hard you guess. but all you need is for her to be decoy for one night.

all you need is for nat to get to the mountain safely.

"okay," nat sighs, lifting up hannah's mask over her face. she looks at you. "take her back to shelter."

you frown at her, which she misses because she bends down to pick up the box. "no. no, i wanna go with you."

she opens her mouth to shut you down, but you give her a look and continue. "it'll be dangerous alone." you can just make out nat rolling her eyes. stepping forward, you grab onto her arm and pull her in close. "what happens if you get hurt and can't call for help? hannah can do it alone, right?"

you give her a begging look.

hannah understands and nods, giving nat a smile before putting on her disguise.

"fine." nat agrees, handing you the box. "i lead then."

· · 𖦹 · ·

"look," you point up, eyes squinting in the sunlight. "up there would be a good spot to try. i think it's high enough."

nat smiles at you, panting slightly from all the walking you've had to do. "we're really fuckin' doing this."

you smile back equally as hard and lean in to kiss her lips hard, both of you chuckling because, fuck, you really are doing this.

"c'mon." you move the radio box-thing underneath your armpit and grab onto her hand. "we're almost there."

you take your time hiking up the snowy mountain, carefully placing your feet against the rocks as you climb up higher. nat goes first, and you wait a few moments just to look out for her before following behind. your heart sank to your stomach when she nearly slipped a few times, but thankfully, she fell back onto you, and you fell back onto solid ground instead of off the cliff. you had to take a few seconds to get your heart pumping again because holy fuck, that was the scariest thing you've ever experienced.

while waiting, she warmed you up with kisses to your lips and face, mumbling that you only need to walk for a few more minutes then you're there.

and then you're there.

and nat's frantically setting down the radio on the ground, you next to her, holding your breath in anticipation as she sticks the transponder in.

you let out a choked gasp when the battery-signal thing starts up, your face breaking out into a smile. "holy fuck."

"come on." nat whispers to it gently, like it'll stop working if she's any louder. the signal reaches a light green and beeps, and nat rushes forward to take out the phone. "fuck it."

you huddle closer to her, the sound of static discouraging you just a little.

"please, help... please, god, uh, send fucking help!" she yells erratically.

"we're stuck out here!" you screech into the phone as nat holds it—cradles it—and taps her fingers against it repeatedly. "we need help!"

more static and more silence.

you hold onto nat's wrist as both of you cry and scream for help for god knows how long, her whole body shaking along with yours.

then it happens.

the static crackles.

you and nat sit up in an instant, both of you speaking at the same time.

"can you hear me?"

the sound of a man saying, "hello?" over the radio makes you laugh. you don't know why. you fall back onto your ass as nat screams out, "can anyone one hear me?"

tears fall down your face as you look up at her, a wide smile on your lips.

"i can hear you." the man says.

#anon #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x yn #natalie scatorccio thoughts 💭#© returnofeternity #natalie scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets

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lunarcrown · 3 days ago

Note

Odd request here...

Jimpulse art

Plz

Yknow what? Hell yeah!!! Summer cuddle nap time plus BONUS: impulse pulls his claws out to give some truly stellar wing scratches, knocks Jimmy clean out 💤💤💤

Plus bonus mini drabble by @opalwhisker under the cut bc she was inspired by the sprit of jimpulse HAHA

It was a gloriously perfect day outside. Sunny and warm, but not too hot thanks to a nice cool breeze in the air... the perfect day for a nap in the shade, which exactly what Impulse and Jimmy were doing.

Impulse, Tango and Skizz had all planned a fun day filled with activities for when Jimmy was going to visit the Hermitcraft server, but things rarely ever go to plan and Tango and Skizz had to dip away for a moment to take care of a few things, leaving just Impulse to entertain Jimmy.

Impulse obviously knew Jimmy fairly well after all the life series they'd played in together, but he'd still never had much one-on-one interaction with him before, so his initial attempts at conversation were a little stilted and awkward. He liked Jimmy and thought he was pretty cool and fun to be around... and if he was being honest, Impulse might admit he had a bit of a man crush on the handsome blonde man.

Fortunately, despite Impulse's awkward attempts at conversation, they found themselves slipping into comfortable conversation fairly quickly. Jimmy's smiles and giggles directed right at him had Impulse feeling a little funny, almost as if he were a schoolgirl talking to her crush. But how could he not feel like that when someone as handsome as Jimmy was paying attention to him and no one else in that moment? It felt like they were the only two players on the server when Jimmy spoke to him like that.

"Say, Impulse...?" Jimmy started hesitantly, "I know you 'n Skizz 'n Tango planned out this whole day for when I visited but, uh, since we have a moment, d'y'think we could maybe just... lay on a blanket in some shade and take a nap? That last round of Hungry Hermits really wore me out." Jimmy smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking expectantly at Impulse with those beautiful brown eyes.

"Oh, sure! Yeah, of course, Jimmy! That sounds like a great idea! Here, lemme grab a blanket for us..." Impulse reflexively took Jimmy's hand and led him over to the shade of the nearest tree, rummaging through his ender chest before pulling out a large blanket and laying it on the grass. He put away the ender chest and knelt on the blanket, patting the ground next to him to invite Jimmy to lay down, which the avian happily did, flopping back onto the blanket with a relieved sigh.

"Ohhhh yeah, that's the stuff...." Jimmy heaved a big sigh and closed his eyes, leaving Impulse to fidget a bit by himself, unsure if he should lay down next to Jimmy or just stay as he was.

"...Well? Are you gonna lay down or what?" Jimmy cracked one eye open to look at Impulse, "You were gonna take a nap with me, right?"

"Oh!" Impulse felt his face flush at Jimmy's words, "I uh, wasn't sure if that's what you meant, or--"

"'Course its what I meant! Now get your butt over here, its absolutely perfect nap weather." Jimmy smiled so warmly at him, Impulse couldn't refuse his request, sliding down to lay next to Jimmy on the blanket, close but still a respectful distance between them. Jimmy seemed unhappy about this.

"Do I stink or something? I thought we were going to take a nap _together._" Jimmy pouted, "What's a nap without a bit of cuddling?"

"Well, I guess you're right... naps are better when youre cuddling!" Impulse giggled, trying to mask how flustered he felt that Jimmy expressed a desire to cuddle with _him._

"Of course they are, now get over 'ere!" Jimmy motioned Impulse closer, and the demon hybrid scooted closer until Jimmy could nestle into Impulse's side, resting his head on Impulse's shoulder while Impulse wrapped his arm around Jimmy's body, his hand resting in the bright yellow feathers of Jimmy's wings.

Impulse hoped Jimmy wouldn't be able to hear how hard his heart was beating in his chest at their proximity. Jimmy was so close Impulse could smell the scent of his shampoo in his hair and feel Jimmy's breath tickle his collarbone.

"Ohhh yes this is nice~" Jimmy sighed, practically melting in Impulse's arms, "I always wondered if cuddling with you felt as good as it looks and now I can say that it's even better~"

Impulse was too stunned at the compliment to respond, his cheeks flushing even hotter at the compliment. He was sure Jimmy had to be hearing his heart pounding against his ribcage at this point and must just be teasing him to hear it flutter some more.

"The only thing that could make this better is... y'know, if you wanted to, maybe run your fingers through my feathers? It always feels so nice and relaxing when someone does that...." Jimmy peeked up at Impulse with those cute brown eyes and there was no way Impulse could resist.

"If--" Impulse cleared his throat when the first word came out more high pitched with nerves than he'd wanted it to, "If you want, yeah I-- I can do that..."

The effect was almost instant as soon as Impulse began to card his fingers through Jimmy's soft, golden feathers. The avian hybrid shivered and sighed, melting against Impulse even more, closing his eyes and seeming lost in the calming sensation. His breathing slowed and for a moment Impulse thought he'd fallen asleep and stopped running his fingers through Jimmy's feathers, eliciting a breathless, pleading whine from Jimmy that gave Impulse pleasant goosebumps.

"Noooo please don't stop.... it felt so nice...." Jimmy pouted. "I haven't had someone run their fingers through my feathers like this since the last time Tango did it... oh his claws felt so nice running through them..." Jimmy sighed, lost in his reminiscing for a moment before remembering who he was cuddling with, "Oh! I mean. You're doing a great job too, Impulse! Tango's just got those claws that run through my feathers differently..."

"I mean... if you like it, I could use my claw for you, too." Impulse offered shyly, trying not to blush. What was he doing? He liked Jimmy, but he wasn't close enough with him to know how he might feel about Impulse relaxing more of his glamor around him. Normally Impulse wouldn't even consider something like that until he was more confident that whoever it was wouldn't get scared of him afterwards. There was just something about Jimmy... Impulse wanted to do everything he could to make him happy.

"You... have claws?" Jimmy glanced between Impulse's face and free hand with a bit of confusion, "I didnt know you had claws, Impulse."

"O-oh, um, yeah... usually i keep them hidden with magic, I've found that people are less scared when I hide them.... _Anyways-_" Impulse cut Jimmy off just as he was opening his mouth to respond to Impulse's comment, "I can undo the magic that keeps them hidden if you want..." Jimmy frowned for a moment, noticing Impulse's evasion of the topic, but choosing not to press further.

"If that's okay with you.... yes, please that sounds so nice!" Jimmy smiled so cutely at him Impulse felt his heart jump into his throat for a moment.

"Okay then, then, just close your eyes and I'll-"

"Actually... could I... see? Your claws I mean. If its okay with you!" Jimmy nibbled his lower lip a bit anxiously, "I promise I won't be scared or anything!" He hastily reassured Impulse.

"Well..." Impulse hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure if he should let Jimmy see, but the avian puppy dog eyes won him over in the end. "Sure, if you want to see, that's fine."

Impulse smiled and Jimmy beamed back at him, his face alight with excitement as he cuddled even closer, resting his head against Impulse's chest and twining their legs together.

Impulse lifted his hand up for Jimmy to see as he slowly undid the glamor that hid his claws, the illusion melting away to reveal his claws and scaled hand, the tough, scaly skin running up his entire forearm.

_"Oh. My. Gosh!!"_ Jimmy squealed, "That is so cool!! Impulse, your claws are so pretty!"

Impulse could feel himself blushing ten times hotter at Jimmy's compliments, his heart racing again at the genuine expression of appreciation and Jimmy's proximity. Evn Impulse couldn't keep his tail from instinctively curling around their legs possessively, his tail tip flicking back and forth in a pleased motion as Jimmy grabbed Impulse's hand to examine his claws and scales up close.

With this perfect weather, cuddled up to someone who makes his heart flutter and is actually admiring a part of himself Impulse usually hid from the world... it was completely perfect. Impulse wished they could stay like that forever in the comfort of each other, but knowing that it wouldn't be forever only made that intimate moment something he savored even more in the moment.

#shipping #trafficshipping #jimpulse #solidaritygaming #impulsesv #my art #gift art #in the form of opals writing!!#also only after I drew this did I see the clip of impulse talking about his man crush on Jimmy DHFHHD #I wanna see the tik tok he was talking about where he’s treating Jimmy different hhhh

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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago

Text

[ get you home ] m. rempe

pairing : Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary : Matt makes sure his best friend gets home safe after going out with him and a few of the Rangers after a win, but his plans change when she tells him how she feels about him

warning(s) : alcohol use and drunkenness, a heavy makeout, some suggestive comments

author’s note : got drunk so i started to write a fic and finished it while sober lol :))

༺═──────────────═༻

One of the things she loves about going out with Matt is the fact that he deters every guy from approaching her. Everyone views him as this scary guy because he’s a six-foot-seven hockey player but in reality, he’s probably the sweetest guy she’s ever met.

It works to her advantage though since she only ever wants to talk to him when she goes out with him.

Tonight in particular, she wants to stay glued to his side. He scored a goal in his playoff debut and all she wants to do is celebrate. She doesn’t want her attention to be pulled away from Matt.

The Rangers found a booth in a dark corner of the club they came to after game one against Washington and started buying drinks and shots for Matt after his goal that started this season’s playoff run.

She took so many shots with Matt when they first got to the club and kind of regrets it. She wanted to at least be coherent and remember her words when she tells Matt that she’s in love with him.

Tonight might not be the night to tell him though. She doesn't want him to think she's telling him because she's drunk or because he scored a goal.

Plus, she wants to be able to remember telling him and she isn't sure that's possible right now because of the amount of drinks and shots she's had. Tonight shouldn't be the night she tells her best friend that she's in love with him.

Once Trouba decides to leave, a bunch of the Rangers decide to follow him out the door. Once the captain leaves, that usually means whatever is going on is officially over. A lot of the older guys leave, but most of the younger guys like Matt and Braden stay for a little bit longer.

There are about three more rounds of shots before everyone else calls it a night. She stumbles out of the club holding onto Matt's arm so she doesn't fall on the sidewalk in her heels. She leans against his chest while he orders them an Uber to her apartment.

"Mm," she hums. "Comfy wall."

Matt laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her stable. "You're so drunk," he comments. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A little less than you," she replies. "I think. How are you not stumbling after everything you've had today?"

He tucks his phone into the pocket of the pants he's wearing. "I'm a foot taller than you and over a hundred pounds heavier than you," he laughs. "Not to mention I have a faster metabolism and can handle my liquor. It's not my fault you're so short."

She looks up at him. "Hey, five-foot-six is not short," she retorts. "You're just freaking tall ." Matt laughs. "Out here having fucking trees for legs like God damn, Matt."

A car pulls up in front of them and Matt helps her get in the car. "Me and my tree legs are trying to get you home safely," he tells her. "You better be nice to me or I'm gonna leave you to get to your apartment by yourself."

"You'd never do that to me," she giggles. "You like me too much."

Matt slides into the car next to her and she immediately moves as close as she can to him. She rests her head on his shoulder before she shuts her eyes. Being drunk and being in a car is not the best combination. She'll gladly use Matt's shoulder as a pillow until they get to her apartment building. They're a good fifteen minutes away so she has time.

The Uber driver realizes who got into the backseat of his car so he and Matt talk about the game. The driver mentions Matt's goal and says what an amazing goal it was. She doesn't say anything but she agrees a thousand percent.

His goal was a beauty. It's something that he'll never forget for sure. She'll never forget celebrating it when it happened. Hearing his name announced during the next play will be something she'll remember hearing forever.

She listens to the conversation and smiles while they talk about the game. She doesn't chime in because she's afraid to open her eyes. The last thing she wants to do is throw up in an Uber.

About fifteen minutes later, the Uber pulls up to her apartment. The driver wishes Matt luck during the rest of the playoffs as he helps her out of the car. She thanks him as Matt shuts the door. Matt wraps an arm around her and helps her into the building.

As she walks through the lobby, she stumbles and loses her balance. With a groan, she slides out of Matt's grip and lands on the floor to pull off he heeled boots that she's wearing. "Stupid shoes," she says to herself. Matt laughs and holds a hand out to help her up when she is ready to stand back up.

"Why did you even wear heels to the game?" he asks as he pulls her up from the ground. "I mean, it's a hockey game."

"I wanted to look nice and dress up the jersey," she replies. Matt lent her his Stadium Series jersey. She might have to wear it for every game now since he scored a goal while she was wearing it. "Sorry I wanted to look nice. Good thing too since we went out afterwards."

It's easier for her to walk now that her feet are flat on the ground. She carries the shoes onto the elevator, where she leans against the wall for support.

"Are you still super drunk?" Matt asks. "I'm asking because I need to know if you'll be okay if I leave."

"We'll see," she mumbles as she drops her head to her left to look at him. "Can you stay anyway? Just in case?"

He nods and smiles as the elevator dings and the doors open.

She stumbles down the hallway to her apartment, dropping one of the shoes in the process. Matt picks it up and she uses her key to unlock the door. Somehow, she gets the door open, but she stumbles inside. Matt quickly wraps an arm around her waist before she can go crashing down to the floor.

The door closes behind them and she looks up at him. "Thanks," she says.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay," he comments. "You just fell into your apartment." She giggles and stands back up. Matt wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. Do you want to shower or anything before you go to bed? Want a snack? You're going to drink at least one glass of water before going to bed."

She looks up at him and says, "I should probably shower since I got a drink spilled on my pants." That was Cuylle's fault and she wasn't very happy that she smelled like beer for the rest of the time they were at the club.

"I'll get him to apologize for that tomorrow when he's sober," Matt tells her. "For now though, bath or shower? Think you can shower?"

"I think I can shower," she replies. "A cold one might sober me up a bit. Some of the clothes that you've left here are all in a drawer if you want to pull something together, or I can give you this jersey since it's technically yours."

Matt smiles and shakes his head. "That jersey is yours now," he says. "I'll find something. Go shower the beer smell away."

She sticks her tongue out at him and stumbles her way to her room. She pulls out a large t-shirt and a pair of slightly too small Lululemon shorts to sleep in before walking into the bathroom for her shower.

The water is ice cold in hopes that it sobers her up enough for the conversation that's going to happen after her shower. She wants to make sure she remembers the entire conversation and whatever she says to Matt. She wants to remember his reaction and what he tells her when she tells him about her feelings.

It's going to go really well or really bad. She has no idea how it's going to go. He may just tell her that it's bad timing since the playoffs just started, or he'll fully embrace it. Maybe he'll tell her that he feels the same.

The unknown is what scares her.

After a short and sweet shower where she only washes her hair and body, she hops out and dries off. She shivers from how cold it was and dresses quickly.

When she walks out of the bathroom with her wet hair French braided down her back, she finds Matt laying on his back on her bed on his phone. He's typing away, probably replying to people that he didn't get to yet about his goal or the win. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his Rangers hockey shirts that he found in the drawer.

Matt notices her standing in the doorway between the bedroom and her bathroom. "There's a glass of water on your table," he tells her. "I left some Advil for you too for the morning."

Just rip off the bandaid. It's time to get this over with.

"I have something I want to say first in case it chases you off," she tells him. "I don't know what your reaction is going to be when I say this but ... I love you."

"I love you too."

"No, Matt," she sighs. "I'm in love with you. I have been for months, maybe close to a year at this point. I know my timing isn't the best but I couldn't not tell you anymore. I'm not saying this because you scored a goal or because you won a playoff game or because I'm still slightly drunk but I am genuinely in love with you."

He stares at her while she talks, but as soon as she's done saying what she has to say, Matt gets up out of bed and walks up to her. "I knew what you meant," he comments. "I've been waiting for you to say something to me before I did this."

"Do wha-"

Before she can finish her question, Matt gently cups her jaw and leans down to press a light kiss to her lips. It's so light that she feels like he's just testing the waters.

It barely feels like a kiss when he pulls back.

She takes a step closer to him and looks up at him. "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?" she questions.

"Gladly."

He crashes their lips together in a more definitive kiss that makes her heart beat out of her chest. She presses herself against him and fists his t-shirt in her hand to hold him close to her. Matt's thumbs trace her cheekbones and she sighs. He takes full advantage and licks past her parted lips.

She presses her hands against his torso and pushes him toward the bed. She has to tilt her head up to kiss him and it's starting to hurt her neck. So she pushes him down until he falls back and is sitting on the mattress. She crawls onto his lap so they're at a more even level.

This isn't the reaction that she was expecting. Maybe Matt saying that he loves her too or some cuddles. She thought that kisses would wait until morning when they're both completely sober.

That being said, this is what she thought their first kiss would look like. Rough, needy. She kisses him like she craves him, and he kisses her back like he's been holding back. She's seen Matt kiss former girlfriends before and studied the way his lips move, but experiencing it is something completely different.

Her heart is in her stomach and her body shakes with anticipation. She truly cannot believe that this is happening right now.

She slides her hands down his chest and stomach then slithers her fingers up under his shirt. Matt hums and pulls back from the needy kiss. “Clothes are staying on until we’re both sober,” he tells her. She nods but is very distracted by how red and swollen his lips are.

All because of her.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch,” she replies. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Matt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks her up and down in his lap. She reaches up with one of her hands and touches one of the scars on his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her wrist.

He trails kisses up her forearm and she smiles as he pulls her flush against his chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and Matt flips them so he’s pinning her down against the mattress.

She smiles and looks up at him. “You do know that I love you too, right?” Matt asks. “I mean, I knew what you meant when you told me that you love me. The timing couldn’t have been any better because I thought I was going to genuinely lose my mind if I held back from you any longer.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Matt replies. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you for literally ever. I probably realized it in February when you were in the crowd for my NHL debut. Seeing you in that jersey tonight, oh my God. I thought I was going to actually lose it at the club.”

She smiles and grabs the bottom of his shirt. She fists the fabric and holds him close. “You could’ve made a move whenever you wanted and I probably would’ve been okay with it,” she admits. “I hated seeing you with random girls or old girlfriends. They never wanted you like I do.”

“I know,” he says. “I think I see that now. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none of them have stuck around like you have.”

“By your side always,” she promises.

Matt leans down and kisses her again. The kiss almost feels like her sealing the promise.

Because she’ll never leave his side. Ever.

༺═──────────────═༻

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stylesispunk · 5 months ago

Text

The soldier in the armour | part iv

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Acacius put his plan on march, starting by sending you away with a sealing promise of returning back to you, but you cannot bear the thought of him fighting alone, and some plans are destroyed.

wc: 7k (lazy)

warnings: angst, age gap, mentions of miscarriage, blood, violence against women, power imbalance, kissing without consent, mentions of death. The events of this chapter happen on the same night.

a/n: Sorry for being so lazy about writing and updating lately. I'm just a teacher on her summer break. This one will be intense. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Hold my hand," Acacius said, extending his arm toward you. You were sitting by the fountain, feeding the fish. The last couple of days had been torture for you, and he wanted nothing more than to shower you with acts of love from the deepest part of his heart.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet determination that melted the tension in your chest. The cool breeze rustled the leaves above, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to pause.

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if trying to transfer some unspoken strength to you.

"Come," he whispered, his voice a balm against the chaos of your thoughts. "Let me take you somewhere…”

You hesitated, glancing back at the rippling water, watching the fish dart beneath the surface. But the pull of his presence was stronger. You stood, your fingers still entwined with his, and allowed him to lead you away from the weight of the past few days.

He led you through a narrow corridor you didn’t recognize, its walls lined with ivy that crept in through tiny cracks. At the very end, hidden behind a heavy wooden door, Acacius paused. He glanced back at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No one else knows about this place,” he murmured, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “It’s just for us.”

He pushed the door open with a soft creak, revealing a hidden courtyard tucked away from the rest of the villa. It was small, intimate, overgrown with wildflowers and shaded by an ancient olive tree whose twisted branches reached out like protective arms. The air smelled of lavender and sun-warmed stone, and the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant song of cicadas at dawn.

Acacius turned to you, his expression softening. “I come here when I need to feel... whole again.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, it could help you too.”

There was a strange tone on his voice, as if he was lingering to your presence before slipping away from you, but you decided to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I know you're worried” you whispered, looking up at him to meet his gaze, smiling softly “but I’m gonna be fine. I’ll recover from this someday.”

“Can I confess you something?” He asked almost ashamed of the question

You nodded, inviting him to speak his truth.

"This is embarrassing for a general but I'm really scared."He confessed, “I…I have someone to lose this time"

Your breath hitched and sudden wave of anxiety crept into your bones.

"You won't lose me" you reassured, caressing his checks with your fingertips.

"From all the battles I fought. Falling in love with you came easily to me...I thought it was going to be difficult for a man like me to be deserving of someone like you.

"This sounds like a goodbye and I don't like that tone in your voice." You said, voice breaking at the thought.

“You know things could go wrong-“

“They will not.” You interrupted, reassuring him once again.

“Allowing myself to know you and love you has been the bravest thing I've ever done," he whispered, his voice trembling just enough for you to hear the depth of his fear, and his love.

Before you could respond, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently but urgently toward him. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he were pouring every feeling inside on it, every hidden feeling into that single, breath-stealing moment. The world around you seemed to dissolve, the rustling leaves, the distant cicadas, all fading into the background as the warmth of his mouth ignited something deep within you.

Your heart raced, the anxiety still humming in the edges of your mind, but his touch grounded you, as always. You let your fingers trail through his hair, pulling him closer, as if anchoring him to this promise you both silently made.

You won't lose me. We won’t lose each other.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, hearts pounding in the same rhythm, at the same time. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to memorize this moment, to etch it into his soul.

Then, without warning, he kissed you again, this time with a raw urgency that stole the air left from your lungs. His hands slid from your jaw down to your waist, gripping you as though he could mold your bodies into one. His fingertips dug into your skin, tracing every curve, every inch he could reach, as if committing the feel of you to memory.

You responded in kind, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his back, clutching at the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. The heat between you was electric, a fire burning bright against the looming shadow of what was to come.

When he finally pulled back again, his breath was ragged, his lips lingering against yours for a fleeting second longer. His hands framed your face now, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks in contrast to the urgency of moments before. His gaze was heavy, filled with a thousand words he couldn’t seem to say.

He leaned in, pressing one lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime." He whispered, nosing your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime. Since the day you saved me from the bathtub and sword you would love me." You whispered the same words back because you meant them.

He smiled against your neck, feeling his eyes watering already. For a man of a thousand battles these shows of affection tended to seen as a sign of weakness. But by your side he learnt about the vulnerability that it came when you loved someone.

You smelled like calm lavender, and your souls interviewed in an unbreakable thread destined to meet in every single lifetime.

You were his person; the best Rome had ever given him back for all the duty and sacrifice. It broke his heart to send you away.

He didn’t fear death anymore, but not seeing you again broke him.

Acacius helped you up, his strong arm supporting you, your heart still ached with the lingering sensation of his words, his love, his devotion. You walked together, the world outside the villa seeming quieter. His hand remained gently wrapped around yours.

When you reached back to the villa, the air felt heavy, as if something was waiting for you there. The grand doors opened to reveal Lucilla standing near the font, her hands trembling slightly as she stood motionless, her gaze distant. Her expression was clouded with worry, yet there was an undeniable sorrow in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” you asked, stepping forward, concern flooding your chest as you glanced between her and Acacius.

Lucilla turned her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"They are here" she said, painfully ignoring your questions as she looked at Acacius.

"It's time" he said, painfully, avoiding looking at you for a moment, then he glanced at you "Look. They are some of my men. They are here to take you out-“

"I don't want to leave" you protested, coming to Lucilla, "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me"

You stepped back, your heart twisting painfully as you listened to Acacius, walking to your mother.

"I don't want to leave," you protested again, your voice trembling. You reached for her, the distance between you growing wider with every passing second. "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me."

Lucilla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looked as though she might give in. But the sorrow on her face deepened, and she shook her head gently. "I cannot, my dear. I failed Lucius once." Her voice cracked as she spoke his name, a deep, haunting sadness settling over her. "I won’t fail you too. Not again."

You felt the sting of her words like a dagger in your chest. She was leaving you, just like she had left him. The memories of her absence in the darkest moments of your life, when you were fighting for survival, flashed before your eyes, and the thought of repeating that same pain was unbearable.

"So, you're failing me now?" you asked, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt you felt. Your breath was ragged as you held back tears, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you.

Lucilla stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for you, but she stopped just short of touching you. "Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you to this. If you're away, Geta won’t be able to use you as a tool against Acacius or me. I can't risk you being taken from me as he was."

The words stung, but in them, you realized the depth of her fear. She wasn’t abandoning you, she was trying to protect you, to keep you safe in a world where everything felt uncertain and dangerous.

"But I don’t want to be safe without you," you said softly, your voice breaking. "I can't go alone.”

Lucilla looked at you, her gaze softening for a brief moment, but the fear in her eyes remained. "I love you too much," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And I can't watch you suffer here.”

Acacius stood behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His presence was a steady anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. He knew how hard this was for you, but his silence spoke volumes. He understood what it meant to love and lose, and now, he was offering you something that felt like the only way forward.

Lucilla’s voice quivered as she took a step back, her hands clenched at her sides. "I cannot go with you... but I will wait for you here. And I will pray that one day you come back to me. That we both do."

You felt as though your heart was being torn in two—torn between the woman who had given you life and the man who had become your lifeline. The conflict swirled in your chest, but all you could do was nod, unable to find the right words.

"I love you," you whispered softly to her, your voice breaking as the tears finally fell.

Lucilla gave you a sad, bittersweet smile. "I love you too, my darling. Always."

You turned to Acacius, your heart sinking at the pained expression that crossed his face as his gaze shifted from you to the three men who had appeared in the distance. His posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as they approached with purposeful strides.

The moment felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. His soldiers had arrived. The plan was set in motion. The urgency of the situation weighed down on both of you, but there was something else, something unspoken in the way Acacius held himself. His pain, too, was palpable. As much as he had sworn to protect you, he knew what this moment meant. The time for goodbyes was closing in, and there was no turning back.

"Acacius..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for his hand. But he stepped back slightly, his jaw tightening as his men neared.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes full of regret and determination. "You need to go. Now."

The men stopped in front of him, their faces unreadable but their posture betraying the tension of the moment. Acacius addressed them with a tone that brooked no argument, his voice firm but clipped.

"Prepare the horses," he commanded, and one of them nodded before heading off to carry out his orders.

You looked at Acacius, pain flickering in your chest as you realized that the next few moments would change everything. The world you had known was slipping away, and there was no going back to the life you had before.

"You’re leaving me, aren’t you?" you asked, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

Acacius looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his gaze softened when he saw the hurt in your eyes. "No. I’m not leaving you." His voice was low and full of certainty, though there was a storm of emotions raging behind those words. "I’ll never leave you. But I need you to trust me now."

You nodded, though the uncertainty in your chest remained. His men were getting ready, and you knew that there was no time left to hesitate.

"Promise me you’ll come to get me back," you said quietly, the words more of a plea than a command.

Acacius stepped closer, his hand brushing the side of your face, his thumb tenderly tracing over your skin. "I swear," he said, his voice raw and filled with emotion. "I’ll come back for you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we’re together again."

The words were like a lifeline, but the storm of emotions raging in your chest made it hard to hold on to them. You wanted to believe him more than anything, but the world was so unpredictable, and you knew better than to expect anything in these dark times.

As Acacius turned to give orders to his men, you felt the weight of the world crashing down on you, the finality of this moment settling into your bones. You wanted to run to him, to beg him to let you stay, but you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew what he was doing was necessary.

This was bigger than the two of you.

Acacius cupped your face once more, his eyes soft but heavy with the weight of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of promises and unspoken fears. His touch was tender, like it was the last thing he could give you before everything changed.

"Be safe," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and full of urgency. "No matter what happens, remember that I will always love you."

Your heart ached as his words sank in, the depth of his devotion resonating through every fiber of your being. You nodded, though your throat tightened, unable to find the words to express what you felt. His love, his promise, were everything you had left to hold on to in this fleeting moment.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still resting on your cheek, and without another word, he helped you onto the horse. His movements were swift and precise, his touch strong but careful as he steadied you in the saddle. His gaze never left yours, filled with a quiet desperation, as though he could somehow will the situation to change with just his stare.

As he stood next to the horse, his hand resting on the reins, he gave a final, lingering look, as though imprinting you into his memory. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke again, his voice filled with finality.

"Trust in me," he said, his eyes intense. "No matter what happens, trust that I will find a way back to you."

His men began to move in the background, preparing to take you away. Acacius placed one last kiss on your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that felt like it was marking the end of a chapter. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his presence, remained with you, even as he pulled away and nodded to his soldiers.

With a final glance, he stepped back, his face a mixture of sorrow and determination. His hand reached out toward you one last time, as if he wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you just a moment longer. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

"Go," he said quietly, the word almost a command, but it carried so much emotion that it cut deep.

As the men took the reins of your horse and started moving you away, you cast one last look over your shoulder. Acacius stood there, still watching you, his face a mask of stoic resolve but his eyes betraying the pain that he had hidden behind his duty.

And then, as you were carried further away, the world around you began to blur. The sound of horses’ hooves pounding against the earth, the rustling of the wind, it all faded as you focused on the one thing that remained clear.

As the path beyond you seemed to haunt you, you tightened the cloak around your shoulders, its coarse fabric doing little to shield you from the chill that seeped into your bones. Every step away from the villa felt heavier and suffocating, each one pulling you farther from Acacius, your mother, and Lucius. The road stretched ahead, but your mind remained trapped in the past, tangled in memories and regrets.

You couldn’t shake the image of Acacius’s eyes, the way they softened when he looked at you, or the feel of his lips pressed against your forehead. The smell of lavender on his neck that seemed to lullaby you into sleep every time he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart ached thinking about your mother, her face etched with sorrow and strength as she pushed you to safety. And Lucius, your brother, the rightful emperor of Rome, forced to live as a slave under a name that was never his.

As Acacius's men guided you through the winding paths, the weight of your separation grew unbearable. You were being secured by Acacius’s army, hidden away from the dangers that loomed, but it felt more like a prison than protection. You were trapped in the middle of something larger than yourself, and the distance only amplified the helplessness curling in your chest.

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Acacius stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the direction you had disappeared. His heart clenched painfully, the hollow ache of your absence settling deep within him. A single tear escaped down his cheek, betraying the stoic facade he tried to maintain. The emptiness in his chest felt insurmountable, as if a piece of him had been torn away.

You were the Achilles heel on his life, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being away from his protection.

Lucilla, seeing the turmoil etched across his face, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, like her father” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her own eyes. “And you will find your way back to her.”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his hand coming to rest over Lucilla’s in silent acknowledgment. The touch sent shivers down his spine; it wasn’t love but understanding. The both of you letting go your heart away.

His eyes never wavered from the path you had taken, his heart silently vowing that no matter what, he would find you again.

Beneath the cloak, you knew you hadn’t far away from the villa. Just one bold movement and you could go back.

There was a weight that became heavier to bear. Acacius would risk his life to free an empire from its tyranny, and perhaps the power would go back to your family while your mother would get stuck in the middle and Lucius real identity would display.

Suddenly, the weight of it all became unbearable. Without thinking, you yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a skidding halt. The men guarding you shouted in alarm, but their voices were distant echoes compared to the roaring in your ears. You leapt off the horse, your feet hitting the ground hard, and before they could react, you were running, running back towards the villa, towards the people you couldn’t abandon.

"Stop! Come back!" Acacius's men called after you, their voices laced with desperation. But you didn’t listen. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold.

you couldn’t turn your back on them. Not now. Now after all.

You were stronger than that. You were the daughter of Maximus Decimus, a man of honor.

You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold. The wind tore at your cloak, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet pounded the dirt path. Every step closer to the villa felt like shedding a layer of fear, replaced by a fierce, unyielding resolve.

The villa loomed in the distance; it brought a strange comfort to your heart. Your mind raced faster than your legs, what if you were too late? What if Acacius or your mother were already in danger? The thought spurred you on, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the aching in your legs.

Behind you, the shouts of Acacius’s men grew fainter, their figures shrinking against the horizon. But your heart was set, you belonged there, in the thick of it, facing whatever fate awaited alongside those you loved. As the gates of the villa came into view, your heart pounded not from exhaustion, but from the sheer force of your determination.

You were almost there.

"Acacius!" you shouted, breathless as you reached the entrance. As soon as he came into view, you crashed into him, and he caught you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that felt like home.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hushed, desperate, his hands moving to cradle your face, as if he needed to be sure you were real.

"I can't-" you gasped out, struggling to steady your breath. "Don't ask me to run away while you stay here. Please, don’t."

His fingers traced your jaw, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled shakily. "I can’t put you in danger," he whispered. "I won’t."

You closed your eyes, your breath mingling with his. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you, but the ache in your chest only grew stronger.

"How?" you whispered, searching his eyes. "How can I leave when you will be here fighting?

Acacius’s jaw clenched. "You know what will happen if you stay—"

"And you know what will happen if I go!" You pulled back slightly, forcing him to see the determination burning in your eyes. "I grew up in a world where privilege was handed to me until it wasn’t. My heart was humble until it wasn’t. I never realized how greedy I could be until I met you, until my heart started beating for you. I want everything that comes from you—your words, your breath, your smile, your heart, you. And if there is a chance, they take you from me, then I’d rather meet the spirits myself than live in a world where you don’t exist."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in him. A vulnerability so raw it threatened to consume you both. His hands trembled against your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make this harder for me."

Your heart twisted painfully. "Then don’t make it harder for me, either. You already know how voiceless women are here. Let me make my choice for once."

His eyes darkened with conflict, with love, with fear. And then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours. it was a desperate, aching plea. A promise. A surrender.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged, his hands still cupping your face as though afraid you’d disappear.

"Then stay," he whispered. "And if the gods are kind, we will survive this together."

But you were afraid the gods had never been kind to lovers like you.

Lucilla watched the exchange in silence before stepping forward. "My child," she said gently, "I know you are willing to risk your life for those you love. But this is not a fight you can win with your heart.”

You turned to her, desperation burning in your eyes. "I know this villa better than anyone. I grew up here. I know every passage, every hidden corridor. If I can get to Lucius, I can free him. We can hide. We can escape and Acacius and his army will free Rome."

"No," Acacius said immediately, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

"He’s my brother!" you argued.

"And what happens when you get caught?" Lucilla’s voice was softer, but no less firm. "You think Geta or Caracalla will show mercy to you? He’ll use you against us, just as he always intended."

Acacius tightened his grip on you. "You are the only thing keeping me from turning this entire city to dust. If something happens to you, I won’t stop. I won’t care about the cost."

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Then let me help you. Let me help Lucius."

"The best way to help is to stay safe," Lucilla insisted. "We will find a way, Acacius-“

“Lucius will refuse Acaciu’s help.” You interrupted, “He took the city he was in, but I’m his sister.”

Acacius's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with frustration and the fear it came when danger seemed to follow you. He shook his head. "That’s exactly why you can’t go. You think he’ll just follow you? Lucius is stubborn. He won’t leave. He won’t abandon his pride, even for you."

"He will if I make him see reason," you pressed, your voice trembling with conviction you wanted to believe. "If I remind him who he is, what he stands for. He’ll listen to me."

Lucilla exhaled sharply, stepping between you and Acacius, her presence like a steady force in the eye of the storm. "And if he doesn’t? If he refuses, what then?”

You flinched at her words. The weight of this pressed down on you, but you refused to let it break you. "Then at least I’ll have tried," you whispered. "At least I won’t sit in hiding while the people I love fight for their lives."

Acacius turned away from you abruptly, running a hand through his hair, his breath ragged. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath before spinning back toward you. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you know what you’re asking me to do?" His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. "You’re asking me to send you straight into the lion’s den. To just…juts let you walk into danger while I stand back and watch."

"I’m asking you to trust me," you said, your voice fierce despite the tears burning your throat. "I have spent my whole life being protected, shielded from the ugliness of this world. But I am not some delicate thing to be tucked away. If we are to have any future at all, we must take risks."

Acacius closed his eyes, as if trying to drown out your words, to quiet the war inside him. Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "She is her father's daughter," she murmured, her gaze heavy with understanding. "You cannot change her mind when it is already set."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists before he finally looked at you again. "If you go, you do not go alone."

Your breath hitched. "Acacius-"

"You do not go alone," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not let you face this without protection."

Lucilla nodded. "I know someone who can get you into the cells unnoticed. But you must understand-this is your one chance. If something goes wrong, there will be no second attempt. No coming back for you."

Your heart pounded as the full weight of the decision settled in. There was no turning back now.

"Then I will not fail," you promised, meeting Acacius’s gaze.

But even as you said the words, you knew that fate was a cruel, unpredictable thing.

“I will wait for you at the end of the dungeon” He explained, “Once you free Lucius, both of you, especially you will come and going to go away. Then when tomorrow came, I’ll get everything settle for what’s coming.”

Lucilla’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes something like resignation. "We don't have time to argue anymore," she said finally. "If you're going to do this, you must go now."

Acacius stepped closer, his hands gripping your arms as if he could anchor you to him. His touch burned, searing into your skin, branding you with the weight of his worry. "Promise me," he murmured. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t hesitate. The moment Lucius is free, you run."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you weren’t sure if you could keep that promise.

Lucilla moved toward the entrance, glancing over her shoulder. "I will send word to the one who will take you inside. Wait for him by the servants' passage near the western wall. And keep your head down."

Acacius leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "Be careful," he whispered. "I need you to come back to me."

You lingered there for a moment, memorizing the feeling of his hands on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he looked at you as if you were something worth fighting for.

"Mia vita" he called out, stopping you on your tracks to kiss you softly, the pulled back slightly “Please don't let this to be our last kiss"

"We still have a life to live together" you smiled against his lips, peeking his lips once more "at peace this time"

"I will find you" he promised, peeking your lips once again, savoring every single second of this. "I'll be waiting for you at the end of the dungeon."

You nodded, feeling shivers down your spine. He kissed your lips again as if couldn’t let go because of the fear, tasting the sweet flavor of fruits on them, lingering to the feeling that in a few hours he would free Rome from the tyranny and escape with you to a happy ending, a happy life.

"Be careful, love" he whispered as you walked from his grasp.

Then, with one final look, you turned and disappeared into the shadows.

And as you did, Acacius stood still, watching you leave, his fists clenched at his sides.

He had never felt so powerless.

The night stretched long and cold as you moved through the villa’s outer corridors, keeping close to the stone walls. Every shadow felt like a threat waiting to cut you in half, every sound a warning. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself forward. Your mother’s contact was waiting near the western wall as promised, a hooded figure who barely looked at you before motioning for you to follow.

"This way," he whispered, leading you through a narrow passage. "The guards are fewer tonight, but that won’t last long."

You nodded, pressing yourself deeper into the cloak wrapped around your shoulders. The passage led downward into the lower levels of the coliseum, where the scent of damp stone and burning torches thickened the air. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do settled heavier in your chest.

Finally, the man halted near a rusted iron gate, peering around the corner before motioning for you to stop. "Beyond here, you’re on your own. You already know where the cells, be fast my lady.”

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before slipping through the gate. The corridor was dimly lit, flickering torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. You kept low, moving carefully. Every instinct screamed at you to hurry, but you couldn’t afford mistakes.

Then you saw him.

Lucius sat in the farthest cell, his head down, his hands bound in front of him. His tunic was dirtied and torn; his face shadowed with exhaustion. But he was still alive.

"Lucius," you whispered urgently, pressing yourself against the bars. His head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"By the gods," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Freeing you," you said, already fumbling with the lock. "We don’t have much time, Acacius has a plan, but we need to go now."

Lucius let out a short, breathless laugh. "Acacius? And here I thought you had come to your senses and abandoned him.”

You shot him a glare, your fingers working as quickly as possible. "Do you want to fight about this, or do you want to walk out of here alive?"

Before he could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Your breath caught.

The guards were coming.

You barely had time to think. With trembling fingers, you worked at the lock, gritting your teeth as the iron refused to give. Lucius shifted impatiently behind the bars, his gaze darting toward the approaching footsteps.

"Hurry," he muttered.

"I know," you hissed, forcing yourself to focus. The crude metal bit into your skin, but finally, with a sharp click, the lock gave way. You got the door open, and Lucius stepped out, shaking the stiffness from his limbs.

"We need to go," you whispered.

Together, you slipped into the shadows, pressing yourselves against the cold stone walls. The guards were close now, their voices carrying down the corridor. You gripped Lucius’s wrist, pulling him forward as you sprinted through the winding path of the dungeon.

Your breaths came fast and shallow, your heart hammering with every turn. The torches flickered wildly in the drafty halls, casting distorted shapes that sent chills up your spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the dungeon, the meeting place Acacius had promised.

But he wasn’t there.

You came to a sudden stop, chest heaving as your eyes darted around the empty space.

"Where is he?" Lucius whispered harshly.

You didn’t answer. He should be here.

He said he would be here. You thought.

A cold feeling crept up your spine. Something was wrong.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Think. Think faster. Acacius wasn’t here. That meant something had gone wrong. That meant-

“We have to move,” you whispered, gripping Lucius’s arm.

He gave you a sharp look, but didn’t argue. You took the lead, slipping through the dimly lit corridor, your body tense, ears straining for any sound. The dungeon air was thick with dampness, every breath heavy in your chest.

Acacius had told you to wait. But waiting was a death sentence now.

He could be in trouble. He could be dead.

No. You forced the thought away. Acacius was strong. He was waiting for you somewhere else. He had to be.

Lucius kept pace beside you, his voice low and urgent. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” you said, scanning the hallway. “I know another way.”

A narrow servant’s passage was carved into the farthest wall, one you had used as a child to sneak out when the world inside these walls had felt too suffocating. You yanked open the hidden door, pushing Lucius through before slipping inside yourself. The stone closed behind you, sealing you both in darkness.

The passage was narrow, forcing you to move single file. Your fingers trailed the rough stone as you navigated through the twisting tunnel, the air cool and stale. You could hear Lucius’s uneven breathing behind you, but neither of you spoke.

You reached the end and pressed against the wooden panel that led to the outside. For a long moment, you hesitated.

If Acacius wasn’t here, it meant something had shifted in the plan. But you had no time to figure out what.

You had to keep moving.

Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

The night air was a fleeting whisper of freedom before it was ripped away.

The moment you and Lucius stepped beyond the hidden passage, torches flared to life, illuminating the ring of imperial guards waiting for you. The glint of their drawn swords was the only warning you had before rough hands seized you.

Lucius struggled, his fury a silent storm beside you, but he was outnumbered. A soldier slammed the hilt of his sword into his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Lucius!” you shouted, lunging toward him, but another set of hands wrenched you back.

A grizzled guard stepped forward; his expression smug beneath his bronze helmet. “Did you really think you could slip away unnoticed?” he sneered.

You twisted against their grip, but they held you firm. “Where is Acacius?” you demanded. “What have you done to him?”

The guard chuckled darkly. “Worry for yourself, little dove.” He leaned in, his breath rank against your cheek. “Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason.”

Your stomach twisted. Geta. He knew.

The guards yanked you and Lucius apart, dragging him in the opposite direction. He thrashed violently, eyes burning with desperation as they pulled him away from you.

“Stay strong,” he shouted. “Don’t give them what they want!”

Then he was gone.

You fought harder, but it was useless. The last thing you saw before they forced you forward was the blood-red banners of the empire swaying in the cold night air.

The throne room was suffocating with tension, the air thick with the scent of oil and burning torches. Acacius and Lucilla stood before the imperial dais, their bodies rigid as Emperor Geta lounged with lazy arrogance in his gilded chair. Caracalla stood beside him, his fingers curling and uncurling as if barely restraining his temper.

The moment Acacius learned you had been captured, something inside him had snapped. His presence alone carried a storm, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides, the veins in his neck straining with suppressed fury.

“Where is she?” Acacius demanded, his voice like thunder cracking through the hall.

Geta smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Who?” he mused, feigning innocence. “Oh, you mean your wife.” He sighed dramatically. “A shame, really. I expected more from you, Acacius. But in the end, even the great general is brought to his knees for a woman.”

Acacius took a menacing step forward, only for Lucilla to press a warning hand against his arm. “You do not want to do this,” she whispered, though even her voice carried the edge of a threat.

Caracalla’s lip curled; his rage barely restrained. “You made a mistake, Acacius. You should have fled with her when you had the chance.”

“I will get her back,” Acacius growled. His eyes snapped to Geta, cold and unrelenting. “Emperor Geta, torture me if you want, but don't dare to lay a finger on my wife.”

Geta’s expression darkened at that word.

His knuckles went white around the goblet before he set it down with deliberate slowness. “But I will,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. He walked towards Acacius, stepping closer, his grin cruel. “Now, I’m going to see her.”

Acacius lunged, but the guards were already between them, forcing him back as Geta strode from the room. The moment the doors slammed shut behind him, Acacius let out a roar of frustration. He whirled, striking one of the marble pillars with his fist hard enough to crack the stone.

Acacius’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, but when he turned to face Lucilla next to him, his eyes were filled with something worse than fury.

Desperation.

His hands clenched into fists again. “I will kill him. I swear it.”

The cell was damp and smelled of rust and decay. You hit the ground hard as the guards shoved you inside, the impact jolting through your knees and elbows. The cold stone bit into your skin, but you barely felt it, your mind was reeling, heart hammering in your chest.

"You should have stayed where you belonged," one of the guards sneered from the other side of the iron bars. "Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason."

You lifted your head, eyes burning with defiance. "I still have you to make him beg for mercy."

The guard scoffed but did not reply. He only smirked, slamming the barred door shut with a loud clang before disappearing down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the darkness.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sit upright. Every part of you ached, but pain was the least of your concerns.

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your face as tears threatened to spill. But you wouldn’t cry.

Instead, you allowed yourself a moment to gather your strength. Tomorrow was coming, and with it, the arena and whatever fate awaited Acacius. Whatever happened, you wouldn’t let Geta break you.

Then, a sound.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

A chill ran down your spine.

You knew who it was before you even saw him.

The door creaked open, and there he stood.

Emperor Geta.

The first thing he did as he took glance of you was grabbing your face forcefully with his hand, forcing you to spare him a glance. He wouldn't even dream of seeing you like this, is disbelief, with your hair a mess, and bloody. You weren't made for a life like this, but now under these conditions, this was the closest he had come to have you.

"Escaping with that slave, my dear lady? You marrying Acacius felt less insulting than this." He said, looking dead into your shining orbits.

"Marrying you would an insult to myself. I would rather eat shit than be tied to you." You spatted.

Geta's smile widened as a cruel laugh escaped his lips as his studied your features. Your before soft skin seemed dirty by drops of blood and dirt. You were a delicate doll, but now smashed and crumbled.

Geta’s expression twisted, his smugness evaporating in an instant. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. Before you could react, his hand lashed out, the sharp crack of the slap ringing through the chamber.

The force of the blow snapped your head to the side, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the floor. Your cheek stung, the pain radiating hot and angry, but it was nothing compared to the cold fury swelling in your chest.

Geta loomed over you, his breath heavy, his hand still trembling from the strike. “You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget who holds your life in his hands. You forget who I am. I'm the emperor and you're just a prisoner granted privileges because of your mother and Acacius" his face got close to you, "but now you're a mere slave accused of treason."

You spit on his face. The anger and loathing consuming like a fire burning your body.

Geta took his hand to his face, cleaning your spit with disgust written on his face. You had ended with his patience and he couldn't bear it anymore.

Just a few hours ago you had been secured on Acacius big arms, surrounded by the faint scene of laurel and lavender that seemed to calmed you down.

Now the stink of dirt and humidity rusted your nostrils. You wanted to close your eyes and feel the lavender on your nose, Acacius lips on your temple. You wanted him to save you, you were pleading the gods.

"Please stop this...let me see him" you begged, your voice broken. "Don't hurt him."

Lifting your gaze to see if by chance there would be a tiny bit of sympathy dancing on his eyes, you face the coldest gaze you had ever seen.

"Acacius' life is on my will, your mother's...even that beloved gladiator of yours." He got closer once again, looking directly to your eyes, you felt his wine breath on your face, "Test my patience once again, my lady and I will snap my finger like this" he snapped his fingers in front of you, getting closer to your lips you can almost feel his on your and it felt repulsive "and all of them will be dead. All of them!"

You gritted in protest, the repulsion of his touch filling you with an instinctual fear that made your skin crawl. The air between you felt suffocating, and the words he spoke echoed in your mind like a distant nightmare, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to remain still as his lips lingered too close to yours. The stench of wine and bitterness clung to him, every part of him an invasion to your thoughts, to your soul.

"Don’t you dare," you hissed, your voice trembling but filled with defiance. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of breaking you.

“You have no idea what I could give you,” Geta began, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of his authority. “Power, wealth, freedom to rule by my side as my wife. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of could be yours if only you’d open your eyes and choose me.”

You hold your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed forcefully against yours. The taste of wine and greed made your stomach churn, and every inch of your body screamed in protest. This was not love. This was a sick obsession, an attempt to break your will and twist your bones. You clenched your fists, refusing to let him see the fear creeping at the edges of your resolve.

"I would rather die than choose you," you spat, your voice full of venom.

“I don’t care what you want” he said, pulling away just to stand up, smiling cruelly down at you on the ground. "Chain her to the wall." He ordered the guards

Your despair filled the dirty dungeons "No, please. Don't" you squirmed under the men's hold "Let me go!"

The cold stone wall bit into your skin as the guards’ iron chains wrapped around your wrists, pulling you taut against the damp, dark dungeon. The echo of your cries was swallowed by the silence of the place, but inside, your fury burned with an intensity you had never known. You clenched your teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, determined to stay strong.

"Goodnight, my princess," Geta’s mocking voice lingered in the air long after he was gone, a cruel reminder of his power over you.

Your screams followed geta's steps as he walked away from you. You were left there to drown in your own tears as you curse and whatever plan his Machiavellian mind has.

Your fingers tightened into fists, nails digging into your palms as you whispered a curse under your breath, a spell woven from the ancient words passed down through history. Soon the future of Rome would be defined and you were going to take charge of it.

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