#so in love with how this turned out... thanks again!

[littledes1re]

@/coffeeguitar 

Summary:  You find solace chatting online with Joel, an older man, after the passing of your father. Your bond grows quietly until you two meet, nervous but full of hope.

Warnings: Fluff, slight Angst, Age gap! (50s and 20s), reader is shy, grief, loss of father, Joel is keeping is age as a secret

A/N: this is a request by @glitterspark <3 thank you for this, I absolutely love this Idea.

Your cursor hovered over the many posts in the “Lonely Hearts Group” on a forum called MessageHeaven.net. You weren’t sure — uncertain whether to make a post or not. The concept was simple: people who felt lonely or needed someone to talk to introduced themselves, and, with a bit of luck, someone would reply and start a conversation.

Yet, it felt impossible for you. You were shy, nervous about talking with other people even if it’s by chat.

But an ache in your heart sat, since the day your father passed. The quietness and the loneliness crept up on you, as more time passed. It felt like losing your best friend, someone, who took care of you, knew you from inside out and had always known how to flick you back together.

The day it happened, you were sure that you would never be the same again.

@/angelwings: Hey, i’m 23 and I don’t know what I’m hoping for here. I lost my dad last winter, and I don’t really talk to anyone, i’m really shy. He was my only friend. I guess I just miss talking to someone. Sorry if this is weird.

You closed your laptop, looking at the wall in disbelief that you had done that. Cringing at the thought, feeling embarrassed, even though you sat for an hour and read similar posts from other people, just like yours.

Ding!

@/coffeeguitar: Hey, nothing weird ‘bout that. I’m Joel. I also lost someone years ago, I know how you feel. The silence afterwards was brutal. I’m around if you want to chat.

Joel.

Something about his easy kindness, caught you.

@/angelwings: Yea, thank you. I don’t usually do these kind of things but today felt especially… hollow. I’m sorry about your loss.

You didn’t open your laptop for a few hours. Partly because you were afraid he wouldn’t reply again. But mostly because a part of you felt exposed—like posting into this place, had cracked something open.

When you finally checked, Joel had already written back.

@/coffeeguitar: Hollow days are the worst, they do hit harder than anything else. Thank you, I lost my daughter. She was 13 at the time, since then, time feels like it stopped. Do you want to talk about your dad sometime? Or we can start smaller— you like coffee?

Your eyes lingered over the message longer than you realised. There was a slight shift in your chest—it was not pity, it was not sadness—it was respect. Joel carried something so heavy with him and still chose to share it with you, even though you two were practically strangers still.

@/angelwings: I’m so sorry, Joel. I can’t imagine that kind of loss. It makes sense that time would feel frozen after something like that… I felt the same way. I haven’t talked about my dad much. I think because when I do, it feels like I’m letting go a little more—and I’m not ready to. Coffee is so good. I used to get a cup with him every Sunday morning, right after our grocery run. He drank his black and said cream was for people who didn’t commit to their caffeine. I still add cream though.

Days turned into weeks.

You and Joel became a familiar rhythm. And slowly, what began as hesitant exchanges grew deeper, richer. You shared bits and pieces, sometimes heavy, sometimes quirky. Memories of your father’s stubborn coffee rituals, memories of your father teaching you how to ride a bike but also whenever you did something dumb (like wearing two different shoes on one day). Joel’s tales of late night guitar strings echoing in an empty house, favourite songs, favorite silences—you knew them all.

You found yourself always looking forward to his messages. He wrote like someone who had seen too much, but never let bitterness take his personality.

And on one night, a message came unexpectedly candid.

@/coffeeguitar: Just wanted to say… I really like talking to you. You make the day feel less heavy. Doesn’t really matter what we’re texting about, it just helps to have someone on the other side who gets it. It’s weird how fast I got used to this. You showing up. Just thought you should know.

And your heart warms.

@/angelwings: Oh Joel, that means a lot to hear. I didn’t expect any of this to matter as much as it does. You’ve made things feel easier lately, lighter. And it’s not just the stuff we talk about—knowing you’re there, it makes a difference. So thank you. For reaching out. And staying.

Your conversations unfolded in quiet confidence. They began to fill the empty spaces—texts over breakfast, longer chats deep into the night. You told him things you hadn’t spoken aloud. Joel responded not with pity, but with presence. Always steady, always listening.

And just like that, your hollow days started to feel… less hollow.

Then one night, a simple text arrived. Different from the usual.

@/coffeeguitar: Been thinking about this for hours, so I’m just gonna say it. Would you want to talk sometime? Like, real talk. Over the phone. No pressure. Just… maybe my voice sounds better than these long ass messages XD

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t hesitate.

@/angelwings: I’d love to :)

And when the call connected, neither of you spoke right away. Just silence. Not awkward—soft. The kind that made space.

“Hey,” Joel said finally, low and a little gravelly. “It’s good to hear you.” His voice was deep, but soft.

You smiled into the receiver, heart fluttering. “You too.”

Then came the compliments, shy and unpolished.

“You sound… kind,” he said quietly. “Like you smile when you talk.”

“I do,” you whispered. “You sound like someone I’d trust.”

Joel laughed—quiet, a little caught off guard. “Well hell. Didn’t think this site would lead me here. My little brother Tommy made me that damn account. Said I was getting too lonely for my own good. Told me someone might actually talk back.”

You laughed softly, imagining Joel’s brother rolling his eyes as he typed in a username like coffeeguitar.

“I think Tommy might be smarter than you give him credit for.”

Joel groaned playfully. “Please don’t tell him that. He’ll never let it go.”

And just like that, the conversation stretched on. You talked through dinner, through sunset, through the stars sliding over the sky outside your window. Songs you loved, tiny embarrassing stories, memories with your dad you’d never told anyone.

It felt easy. It felt safe.

At one point, Joel grew quiet.

“I don’t say this often,” he murmured, “but this—talking to you—it’s been good for me. Like I’ve been carrying a hundred bricks and you helped me set a few down.”

Your breath caught.

“I feel that too,” you said. “I feel… less hollow.”

Neither of you hung up for hours.

And long after the conversation ended, long after the silence returned, it still felt like someone was listening.

Joel sat on the porch, fingers wrapped around the handle of a chipped mug, steam curling into the late evening air. He looked down at his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard, heart drumming a little too loud for his own comfort.

He’d typed it out twice already. “I’m in my fifties.” Then erased it.

Again: “Didn’t want to scare you off, but I’m older than you probably think.”

Delete.

His lips pressed into a firm line as he leaned back into the creaky wood of his chair. Crickets hummed in the background, faint and steady like the thoughts he couldn’t outrun.

She’d walk away. That was the first thought. No hesitation. No drama. Just vanish. Disconnect. And he wouldn’t blame you The world didn’t exactly smile kindly on older men reaching out across internet threads—especially not to someone like you. Someone young. Someone gentle. Someone whose words carried the kind of ache he recognized too well.

He stared at the dim glow of the screen, remembering the way you talked about your dad. The way you said hollow like it wasn’t just a word, but a whole landscape inside of you. And the way it had pulled him in—not because you werde broken, but because you were honest. Brave.

Hell, you didn’t even know how brave.

Joel exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His age wasn’t a secret. It was a truth. But it carried weight in the wrong context, like a shadow that might fall too long across the light they’d built together. What if she thought I was a creep? What if she stopped replying? God, even thinking that made his throat tighten.

It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might assume. It was connection. Rare. Undressed. Two people floating in the same ache, trying to find something steady.

He began to type again.

Paused.

“You ever get scared saying something simple? Like it could ruin a good thing?”

He stopped, deleted again.

Joel tapped his mug twice against the porch railing and muttered under his breath, “Tommy, you idiot. You really threw me into this.”

He thought of her smile—not that he’d seen it, but the kind he imagined when you’d sent messages with little jokes tucked into them. The way your voice had sounded on the call last week. Kind. Open. And maybe—maybe—strong enough to understand why he hesitated.

He put the phone down.

He didn’t send the message.

Not yet.

For now, your replies still came with warmth. For now, he could let himself exist in this rare, quiet place between loneliness and whatever this was slowly becoming.

You’d reread your last few chats more times than you’d admit. A joke about bad diner coffee. His usual late-night comment about wind in the trees. And then the silence—gentle but noticeable.

Something inside you stirred.

You typed slowly, thumb hovering above the screen.

@/angelwings: Joel… would you ever want to meet up?

You deleted it. Then retyped.

@/angelwings: I’ve been thinking about this…about seeing you. I don’t want to push or make things weird. But if you ever felt ready, I’d really like that.

You sent it before you could overthink.

Nothing for a while. You even set your phone down and walked away. But when you returned, your heart jolted.

@/coffeeguitar is typing…

Paused.

Typing again.

@/coffeeguitar: That’s a big question. Not bad—just… big.

@/coffeeguitar: I want to. I really do. Just gotta get my head around it. Been a long time since someone wanted to see me for real.

You waited.

A couple of hours passed.

Then, right around midnight:

@/coffeeguitar: I want to meet. I don’t know what this will feel like, seeing someone I’ve only known through words and voice. But one way or another, I’d regret not showing up for you. So yeah. Let’s do it.

You felt your throat tighten—not out of nerves, but out of relief. The screen blurred for a second before you managed to type back.

And just like that, the meet-up was real.

You didn’t know what Joel looked like. You didn’t know how old he really was. You only knew how he made you feel. And as far as you were concerned, none of those other details could shake the connection you’d built.

The rest would come when it was time.

After Joel said yes, the next question lingered like mist: Where? When? Neither of you rushed it. You didn’t need to. The thread of conversation had already woven deep enough that even silence felt safe.

A couple nights later, you brought it up.

@/angelwings: I was thinking…what if we met at that coffee shop you always mention? The one with the tiny tables and bad jazz music? Seems fitting.

@/coffeeguitar: You remembered the jazz 😂 Yeah, I know the one. Corner of 5th and Rosewood. Good coffee. Quiet. No surprises.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself:

@/coffeeguitar: I’ll take a seat near the back. By the window. I’ll bring my guitar case—easiest way to spot me without photos. You don’t have to do anything fancy. Just show up as you.

Your heart fluttered.

@/angelwings: I’ll be there. Probably nervous. Might bring mismatched shoes for tradition.

@/coffeeguitar: That’d be perfect.

He didn’t ask for a selfie. You didn’t ask for one either. Maybe part of the magic was not knowing—letting the realness happen without edits or filters or warnings.

You set the time: Saturday, 11:00 AM.

And the days leading up to it felt longer than usual. The kind of long that tugs at your chest every time your phone lights up. But Joel kept messaging like he always did—soft jokes, random thoughts, quiet truths. Like he wasn’t afraid at all.

Even though deep down, you both were.

But sometimes, wanting to see someone is louder than the fear.

The coffee shop was smaller than you expected. A little faded, with squeaky chairs and jazz playing softly from overhead speakers that sounded too tired to care. You stepped inside, heart loud, fingers curled inside your coat sleeves.

You spotted him before he saw you.

Joel sat in the back, just like he said—by the window, guitar case leaning beside him, a mug in front of him and a small paper bag resting carefully on the table. His hands were wrapped around the cup like he needed it to stay steady.

He looked up.

And froze.

His expression shifted instantly—surprise, something close to awe. Like he’d prepared himself for someone entirely different. His eyes softened, and he stood quickly, almost knocking the chair back.

“You’re…” he said, voice catching like gravel in his throat. “Hell, you’re beautiful.”

You laughed, quiet and breathy. “I think you might be too good at compliments.”

He smiled, sheepish. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Then his hand rubbed the back of his neck, and his gaze dipped for a second before he met your eyes again. “Just—before anything else… I need to say this. I’m older than you probably thought. I didn’t know how to tell you in messages. I didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You could feel the nerves brimming in his voice. The uncertainty.

But you stepped closer.

“Joel,” you said softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. That’s what matters.”

His shoulders dropped a little—not defeat. Relief.

“I brought y’something,” he said, motioning toward the paper bag. “You mentioned liking those weird chocolate bars with the hazelnuts and way too much packaging.”

You smiled, already knowing what was inside before you peeked.

“You remembered.”

“‘Course I did.”

You sat down across from him. No rush. No script. Just the quiet thrum of your pulse and the man you’d only known through voice, words, and warmth.

He looked at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You both smiled, at nothing and everything. And for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

You didn’t need to.

It already felt right.

[vxnillabxn]

Hello, my angel! I really really really love your writing!!! Can i request all the LIs having cuteness agresivess with Mc/reader??? But, of course, only if you fell confortable with, so fell free to ignore me <3 Sorry for any mistakes english is no my first language

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ grrrr, fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚hello, baby pumpkin! thank you so, so much for this adorable request (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ and don't worry, love! i gotchu ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ this was soooo fun to write, i need them to bite my cheeks tbh. ENJOYYYY! ⋆˚꩜*.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

he got himself yet another building model airplane kit, and he was ecstatic.

it was an antique, or so the website sold it as one.

he sat down on the floor and started building, his large hands remaining precise when adding tiny pieces very, very carefully.

he was like a toddler trapped in a huge man's body.

adorkable.

when he heard your footsteps growing closer, he turned his head and smiled up at you.

“hey, pipsqueak. wanna give me a hand?”

you thought it might be fun, so you agreed and sat by his side.

“sure, lebbie!”

at first, you were a bit lost looking at the instructions for each piece…

but eventually, you got the hang of it, and you started helping him assemble different parts to attach later on.

however, you didn't even notice how focused you actually were.

brows furrowed, eyes locked on your movements, jaw clenched…

you looked so, so cute, so dedicated to doing things right: or rather, doing something for him right, as this was a hobby of his.

naturally, he had this sudden urge… this urge to take your cheeks and just squish them.

a lot.

so he does exactly that.

he leans in and looks down at you, before cupping your face.

you blink in confusion, but then again, you think he might say something important.

wrong.

he stretches and squishes your cheeks until your lips are pouty.

it is a bit gentle at first, until he notices your confused gaze.

he grins and kisses your puckered lips over and over, before growling playfully.

“look at ya', all focused and cute…”

he pecks your lips even more, and then he ruffles your hair and pulls you in for a breathtaking bear-hug, rocking you from side to side.

you can barely breathe, and his lips are all over your forehead, your head, your cheeks…

and to top it off, you're holding the model plane's parts so tightly so they don't fall with how much he's moving you around.

eventually, he stops and grins at you, noticing how disheveled you look from all the rough affection he just gave you.

he caresses your hair back into place, before pecking your lips and setting you back in place.

as if nothing had happened.

so…

should you go back to building or does that involve another sudden attack?

should you stop… focusing? or maybe you do want this outburst to happen again?

should you cry because the parts you were holding so tightly disassembled on your lap a couple seconds ago?

you guess you'll have the following hours to find out.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you were sitting for an eternity.

what started as you only asking him to keep you company while you read, turned into him sketching you.

and he asked for you to keep reading, or to at least stay put, because he wanted to capture every line accurately.

obviously, you were already bored, and you wanted to close the book and go to bed…

but he wouldn't let you.

“ah, ah, ah! where are you going, cutie? i'm in the middle of drawing your hair!”

sigh.

you stay where you are, frowning slightly and trying to read…

but you had to read the same lines over and over again, since your brain wasn't cooperating anymore.

it became too much, so you looked up at him, trying your best to convince him.

“raf, please… i'm tired. can't you sketch me while i sleep?”

he furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

“that's even worse! you'll shift like a worm before falling asleep.”

this little—

alright then, time for drastic measures.

you took a deep breath before gently tugging on his sleeve, making sure his eyes were on yours this time.

“raffy, i promise i'll stay put in bed… please?”

he didn't know if it was your sleepy tone, your pleading eyes, or the way you said it…

but he put the pencil down, stood up, and walked towards you.

finally!

he was finally going to let you—

smooch.

then another smooch.

both of them on your lips.

and after those two, he started pecking and attacking your lips with so many kisses, your body started to fall back.

he held you and pulled you closer to his chest, before roughly kissing your cheeks and forehead.

when you tried to stop him by pushing his head away, he nuzzled against your palm and bit your fingers.

one by one.

“ngh~… so… cute…”

he mumbled, and then he kissed every single mark he left.

he was frantic, truly.

until he stopped and looked into your eyes.

his gaze was intense, almost darkened.

“you really promise?”

you nodded almost immediately, though still fazed by his outburst.

he smiled and picked up his pencils and sketchbook, walking towards the bedroom hurriedly.

completely different from his attitude a few seconds ago.

“come on, my pearl!”

and all that's left to do is pick up your book and your dignity, as you follow him to your shared room with sleepy footsteps.

you sure hope he lets you at least change your clothes first, but based on his eagerness…

you are certain he'll pin you down on the bed as soon as you step by his side.

and you better keep your promise.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

you were trying out a new recipe you saw online.

to be fair… sylus' kitchen has all the expensive ingredients those recipe pages claim as “things you have at home!”

like, saffron, edible… gold and caviar?

yeah, you can casually open the pantry and there they are.

so, as you moved around and gathered up the things you needed, you accidentally dropped a 100% extra virgin olive oil glass bottle.

crap.

the noise was loud enough for mephisto to peek in before soon flying away, presumably to alert sylus.

you frantically started to clean up, making sure to remove the glass shards before using a cloth to absorb the oil.

gosh, was it expensive?

it surely had to be.

the bottle was quite big, and it was barely used.

was it new?

oh gosh…

as you were scrubbing the floor, a set of leather black boots appeared in front of you.

you looked up and found sylus, his eyes focused on you.

then on your hands…

and finally, on the glass shards.

he didn't see any blood, and his face relaxed visibly.

“sy… it was an accident, i swear. i was just trying to cook and then i knocked the bottle off the counter and…”

first of all, you were apologizing instinctively, because sylus had told you he doesn't care in the slightest about objects, let alone their price.

he's only concerned about you and if you had hurt yourself, which didn't happen.

“...so just tell me how much it was and i'll buy another one!”

you looked up at him apologetically, and he couldn't help but finally smirk.

your eyes, the way you truly felt sorry for something so small…

it was endearing.

he couldn't help but crouch down and kiss you deeply, before his lips suddenly went everywhere in your face.

your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose…

and then you felt something slightly sharp.

he was now nibbling your ears, your lips…

and then one of your cheeks.

he bit it and shook his head slightly, like a dog rough-playing with a plushie.

when he pulled back, he stood up with you in his arms, guiding you away from the mess.

“sylus, i haven't—”

he kisses your lips firmly, not letting you speak.

“i'm not done with you, sweetie.”

done?

what does that mean?

where are you go—?

nom.

he bites your cheek again, this time hugging you from behind as you finally reach the room.

and he closes the door with his foot, preventing intruders as he shows you how cute you are…

nibble by nibble.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

you two were cuddling on a makeshift tent xavier put up on the roof.

he wanted to stargaze, you wanted to be cozy and lovey-dovey with your boyfriend…

it was the perfect plan.

you two were drinking hot chocolate in matching mugs, wrapped up with a fuzzy blanket, and staring at the gorgeous night sky.

and everything was going smoothly, until he dropped some hot chocolate in his lap.

he was so focused rambling about the stars that he didn't notice…

until it fell on some exposed skin.

he jumped and quickly stood up, putting the mug away with the frowniest frown to ever frown.

you were laughing until your tummy started to ache, because how can someone be so unaware?

when he sat down again, you happened to sip a bit out of your chocolate, when his elbow accidentally pushed your arm, and the mug dug into your nose.

when you put the mug away, you had a brown, milky stain on the tip of your nose, as well as a mustache on your upper lips.

this was definitely his revenge; you were sure of it.

he chuckled and tried to help you, but you declared war right there.

and as you were about to hit him with one of the cushions, he stopped you.

then, he looked into your eyes, and his thumb itched closer to your nose…

but he stopped.

now, his gaze shifted ever so slightly, and he tilted his head when leaning in to lick the chocolate off your nose, and then off your lips.

and as if the chocolate had some sort of trigger, he started nibbling on your lips too, before he got more and more bold.

he left so many kisses in such a short period of time you lost track.

he cupped your cheeks and pressed them so hard his fingers were imprinted.

you looked adorable, all stained in sweet chocolate, grumpy, ready to fight him…

he just… he needed a taste.

he needed to hug you, and nibble you, and squeeze you in his arms until—

“xav… shtop…”

he doesn't, though.

he pushes you down carefully and uses his body weight to keep you in place.

“sorry, i must squeeze you.”

he says, matter-of-factly.

and there is a lot of squeezing, certainly, as his lips leave a trail of quick, short yet open-mouthed kisses that fill up the small tent.

was it because of the chocolate?

or was it because he wanted to get back at you?

you'll never know.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

you thought it'd be funny to steal his glasses.

and his white coat…

and his stethoscope…

and his badge.

better said, you thought it'd be funny to dress up as him, since he brought everything from work, and he folded everything very neatly by the end of your side of the bed.

it was basically an invitation, right?

so, you put on everything, you relish on how his coat smells clean and like his scent…

even when his glasses are a bit uncomfortable to wear.

when he steps out of the bathroom, wearing comfy lounge wear, he stops in his tracks.

what on earth?

you muffle a laugh before putting on your best poker face.

“you are late for your appointment, mr. li”

he just raises an eyebrow, before his lips curl up ever so slightly.

“based on your results, i have a couple diagnoses for you, mister…”

you walk around, before pointing at him.

“a sugar-free diet… for life!"

he tilts his head, clearly amused.

“and you know what i found out? yeah, carrot deficiency. mhm, trust me.”

he sighs and steps closer, finally speaking.

“do i talk like that, or is that your poor interpretation?”

you gasp, clutching the lanyard attached to his badge.

“how dare you! i'm very clearly dr. zayne.”

you push the glasses up your nose, acting confident.

“should you fail to follow your amazing doctor's orders, you are to be… uh, punished! yes, punished,” you circle him, before stepping behind him. “your punishment will be to take a… break!”

he knows he isn't exactly beating up the workaholic allegations, but this is ridiculous.

he's about to end your little display with a sarcastic remark, but he notices how the coat suits you.

and how his glasses frame your pretty face.

and how you carry his badge so proudly, as if you were his…

which you are.

his heart thumps fast.

he steps closer and reaches out, and when you dodge him, thinking he'll take his things away from you, he just leans down, cups one of your cheeks as the other one caresses your hair.

and then, his jaw clenches.

he nuzzles his cheek against your head… slowly… slow… oh, a bit faster… and then a bit more roughly…

his hands are now on your waist, holding you in place.

he rubs his cheek on your head, against your face, your neck, and then against your own cheek.

your chest is tightly pressed with his, and when he pulls back, he hesitates.

gosh, he needs to calm down.

he pulls the stethoscope close to his heart, and he looks at you with a slightly ragged breath.

“what is your diagnosis now, doctor?”

it leaves you speechless.

you regret taking his stuff in the first place…

or, do you?

[killerplink]

STUFFED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: ~12k

Plot: You're not exactly sure when teasing turned to tension or when tension turned to need tonight. All you know is that your knees hit the floor fast and willingly.

A/N: Hiii, besties 🥹 I'm so sorry if it felt like I fell off the face of the Earth. I swear I didn't die (sadly lmao), but life's been a whole ass shitstorm lately. every time I sat down thinking "yup, I'm gonna lock in and finish a WIP" (yes, the same ones holding me at gunpoint at this point), the universe just said "lol, nope" 🫠 and don't even get me started on sleep because I don't know her ✋🏻 I've been running on fumes, caffeine, and the occasional mental breakdown lately 😩 BUT I'll try to wrap up the Roy and Dick ones I already started and get those out to you soon, pinky fucking promise 🥺 and I'm sorry for the delay in answering your asks too, I've had the energy of a damp dishrag lately so my brain has been MIA right along with my will to function 😩 I've seen some absolute bangers sitting there and I can't wait to giggle and kick my feet over them when I finally get my shit together 🤭

anyway ✋🏻 I love you, besties 🖤 thank you for sticking around and checking in on my chaotic ass. you guys seriously mean the world to me 🥹

P.S: I'm sorry this is once again a very long one-shot, but I needed the comfort (and the filth), and I fully took it out on Jay and his girl 🥺 hope you won't mind me projecting all over the place with this one 🏃🏻‍♀️

There's just something about the way he always looks at you. Half lidded eyes, a lazy smirk like he already knows exactly how wrecked you're going to be by the end of this. It's not even about control with him—though, let's be honest, he's very good at that too—it's about how easy it is to fall apart.

Jason loves watching you wreck yourself on his dick before he even fucks you. You're on your knees, lips stretched tight around his cock, drool dripping down your chin as you take him deep, gagging when he presses against the back of your throat. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you, ruining you as he grunts, watching your messy, desperate struggle to please him.

And you are desperate. The way you bob your head, working your tongue under his shaft, flattening it against the thick vein along the underside, the way you hollow your cheeks, humming just to hear him curse under his breath, the way your thighs press together because you can't help it.

"Fuck, baby, look at you," he groans, voice ragged, a smug smirk pulling at his lips. The bastard. "So damn pretty with your mouth full. Gettin' me all wet, huh?"

His grip tightens in your hair when you try to pull back for a breath, forcing your nose right back into the skin at the base of his cock. You choke on it, sputter around him, and his abs tense with a low, filthy groan.

"That's it, baby. Take it. I know you can."

His voice is all need and heat, that low rasp that always gets your thighs rubbing together just from the way he talks. And fuck, he's so thick, it always feels like your mouth is stretched to the limit around him. Heavy on your tongue, velvety soft skin dragging along your lips every time he rocks his hips. Precum smears warm and salty against the back of your throat with every shallow thrust, leaking so much you swear he's teasing you on purpose.

You can't tell if you're more drunk on the weight of his dick in your mouth or the way he sounds, like he's two seconds from losing it and fucking your throat until he's spilling every drop straight down it.

Your hands are trembling against his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as you breathe through your nose, spit pooling in your mouth while you let him use you. And Jason? He looks fucking wrecked. Head tipped back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like he's trying to keep it together but failing. His hips roll forward slow, fucking your mouth with lazy, unhurried thrusts, savoring every single second.

And you love it. His praise, his dick, the way your jaw aches and your throat burns and your heart flutters every time he guides you back down with that big, rough palm. You love how messy he lets you get, how greedy he lets you be. And yeah, maybe you also love how hard he gets just by watching you ruin yourself on his cock.

"Messy little mouth," he mutters, looking down at you. "You like it like this, huh? Like bein' full of my dick, doll? Bet your panties are soaked already, aren't they?"

You blink up at him, teary eyed and flushed, and the softest little whine bubbles from your throat around his cock and fuck if that doesn't nearly snap his restraint clean in half.

"Jesus Christ," he groans, head tipping back for a second, fingers flexing in your hair. "Such a good fuckin' girl for me."

Your whimper vibrates around him, and he feels it. He sees how desperate you are, how your pussy is probably dripping already. And it is. Jason chuckles, tugging your head back until his cock slips free, leaving you gasping, saliva connecting your lips to the tip in a little string before it breaks.

"God, I should film this," he pants, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Let you watch how dumb you look fuckin' your pretty mouth on my dick. You'd love that shit, wouldn't you? Fuckin' droolin' like a desperate little thing."

Then he's pushing back in, slow at first, but deep, watching your lips stretch wide around him, the corners of your eyes welling up as your jaw quivers, throat tightening in reflex when his dick slides right past that soft, choking point. He groans again—deep, possessive—and this time there's no teasing in it, just raw hunger.

The soft, wet sound of it, the messy little gasps and wet clicks when he fucks into your mouth makes his cock twitch. His hips roll forward slow, controlled, but there's nothing soft about it. He feeds you his cock in slow, thick strokes, watching your lips strain, your breath stutter as he starts fucking your mouth. You moan, choked and needy around him, and he feels it vibrate down his shaft, feels it all the way in his gut.

Your eyes flutter, tears spilling over when his hips snap forward just a little sharper, his balls brushing your chin. His dick is a fucking mess—slick with your drool, precum smeared along the thick vein on the underside, shining every time he drags it back over your tongue. Spit strings from your lips when he rocks out, then sinks right back in, wet and heavy on your tongue.

"Shit, yeah... there she is," he rasps, eyes blown wide with lust as he takes in the sight of you—glassy eyed, panting, wrecked just from sucking his dick.

It's filthy. Sloppy. And he fucking loves how your spit coats him, how you're gagging just a little, nose scrunching when the head hits the back of your throat again. Loves the little shivery sounds you make when your jaw is stretched to the limit, lips swollen and slick.

But just when you're choking a little sweeter around him, eyes glassy and tongue flicking against the underside of his cock, he tightens his grip in your hair and pulls you off with a wet pop. He groans, jaw clenched like it physically hurts to stop. Because fuck, he'd love nothing more than to stuff your throat full and blow his load right down it, watch you swallow every drop while you blink up at him, all pretty and ruined, but he'd rather cum inside you.

"C'mere."

Before you can respond or process what's happening, Jason's got you on the couch on all fours, back arched, ass in the air, completely at his mercy. You don't even notice him sliding your panties down until they're halfway down your thighs, the fabric sticking just a little from how wet you are. He hums behind you, one big, warm hand squeezing your ass before he slaps it, the other dragging the lace the rest of the way down.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters when he feels how soaked they are before he even touched you. "You're already drippin' for me."

Then his hand slides in, rough fingers gliding right through your puffy folds, and your moan is needy and breathless and embarrassingly loud. The way he touches you isn't fast or hard, but it wrecks you, sends heat crawling up your spine like fire.

His hands spread you wide, thick fingers dragging through your dripping pussy before he moves higher, teasing over that tight little hole with slow, lazy circles.

"You ever let anyone touch you here before, pretty girl?" he murmurs, almost mocking as he presses the pad of his thumb against it, not quite pushing in.

But he knows the answer. Doesn't matter what you say, no one's touched you like he does. No one's ruined you like this.

You whine, pushing back against him, but he chuckles, pulling his hand away completely, leaving you empty, aching. Then his cock is there, heavy, dragging through your slick, getting nice and messy before he taps the head against your clit, making you jerk.

"God, you're so fuckin' wet," he groans, giving your ass a sharp slap, watching the ripple with hungry eyes. "What, all that just from suckin' my dick?"

He lines himself up, teasing your entrance, pushing in just the tip before pulling back out, making you sob. "C'mon, baby. Beg for it."

You do, because you need him. Because you're dripping down your thighs, desperate, clenching around nothing as you push your hips back, trying to take more.

But your brain isn't working anymore, not really. Not when he's talking to you like that, not when you can feel the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, dragging back through your slick, over and over again.

"Jay," you gasp, your voice high and wrecked and so fucking needy. "Please, I—fuck, I can't—"

He grins behind you, slow and smug. His hand comes down hard on your ass again, then smooths over the sting with a lazy rub, palm kneading over the soft curve before giving it a squeeze that's just shy of mean.

"You can't what, pretty girl? Think? Breathe? Speak full fuckin' sentences?"

"Jay," you gasp, brain melting the second he grinds the head of his cock against your soaked little hole again. He's right, you can't even form a full sentence, just raw, needy noises spilling out as your fingers curl into the couch. "Please—please, fuck, I need it—I need you—"

He groans at the sound of your voice, all soft and shaky, fucked out already when he hasn't even given it to you yet.

"Yeah?" he mutters, rubbing slow, lazy circles around your entrance with his cock, just barely dipping in, never deep enough to satisfy, just enough to tease. "What do you need, baby? Gotta use your words."

You whimper, dropping your head down, back arching as you try to fuck yourself back onto him. "Need you inside," you cry out. "Need you to fill me up—please, I can't—need it so bad, Jay, please..."

"Goddamn," he mutters, watching you shiver under him. His hand grabs your hip tight, holding you still, making sure you can't get it until he gives it. "You're so fuckin' cute when you beg. My pretty desperate girl."

You're trembling, mouth open, eyes stinging with how badly you need it. He's still teasing, still giving you just the tip, still watching you fall apart like it's his fucking job. And it kind of is.

"Jay—" your voice cracks, ruined and raw, your whole body shaking with pure fucking frustration. "Just fuck me already."

He freezes, then laughs, one of those full body chuckles. "Oh, now you've got a mouth, huh?" he teases, cock twitching at your entrance. "So fuckin' needy you forgot your manners."

But he gives in, finally, because you're soaked and shaking and clenching around nothing, and he can't take it either. Jason grunts, grabs both your hips, and in one slow, deep stroke, he sinks in, splitting you wide, bottoming out until his thighs press flush against yours.

"Fuck," he groans, voice wrecked as he grinds in deep, letting you feel every thick, pulsing inch. He leans over you, one hand curling around your neck, the other slipping under you to toy with your soaked clit. "That's it, baby, takin' me so fuckin' good. Lemme hear you."

And when you cry out, back arching as he starts to move, dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in, his voice turns soft, almost sweet.

"There you go," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, thrusting deep, hitting that spot that always makes your legs shake. "That's my good girl."

Then he bites down—hard—right where your neck meets your shoulder, making your breath hitch and your pussy clamp down around him. The sting of it sends sparks across your skin, but before you can whimper, he licks the spot tenderly, his tongue wet and warm as he soothes it.

He doesn't stop moving. His hips roll into you in deep, wet thrusts, his cock sliding in and out with ease, coated in your slick, every inch of him drenched and glistening. You can hear it, that messy slap of wet skin on skin every time he fucks you harder, chasing the little fluttering squeeze of your cunt around him. He's soaked already, every thrust a wet, obscene slide that leaves your skin sticky and your body buzzing.

Jason can feel your body responding to everything—every twitch, every clench, the way your hips push back like you're chasing more even when he's giving you everything. He knows your pussy better than anyone, knows just how to angle his hips to make you sob, and it's got his head spinning.

You're so soft, warm, and so fucking tight, and the way you squeeze around him every time he hits that spot has him gritting his teeth, sweat prickling at his temples. His fingers rub tight circles over your clit, relentless and greedy, matching the pace of his thrusts, just rough enough to make your thighs start trembling beneath him.

He watches you fall apart and thinks it's the prettiest sight he's ever seen. Your flushed back, your open mouth, the way your hips keep pushing back to meet every thrust even when you're already shaking.

And underneath it all, one thought claws through his brain on repeat: mine. His thrusts get rougher, hips slapping against your ass with filthy, wet smacks. You can't even brace yourself properly, so your fingers claw helplessly at the couch cushions, trying to hold on while he fucks you through the next wave of pleasure building low and tight in your belly.

Jason leans in close, chest heavy on your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "That's it, baby, just like that."

Your legs shake, your whole body is humming, every nerve ending lit up like he's fucking you raw with nothing but praise and dick. He knows exactly how to wreck you, how to draw it out, how to keep you right on that edge.

You sob against the cushions, voice muffled, brain barely able to string thoughts together. It's too much but it's not enough at the same time. You need more, need him, need all of him.

He bites your shoulder again, then licks over it, soothing the sting, voice warm and ragged against your skin.

"Takin' it so fuckin' good for me, doll. You're perfect like this, y'know that? Lettin' me fuck this tight little pussy, lettin' me fill you up."

Your moan breaks in your throat, choked and high pitched, your body jolting with every hard thrust. His hand is still on your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles that make your thighs shake. You can't even think, you're just trying to stay upright while Jason pounds you into the couch.

"Look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your ear, "clutchin' the fuckin' pillows like they're gonna save you. So fuckin' messy for me."

You're so fucking close, and you know exactly why. Because sucking his cock gets you soaked every time, and you're still worked up from earlier, from how deep he fucked your throat, from the way he moaned for you while you gagged on him. And now he's splitting you open, stuffing you full of the same dick you were drooling over a few minutes ago.

Every stroke makes your pussy clench tighter around him, needy and hot and soaking him all over again. His dick is drenched, sliding in and out of you so easy, wet and loud and filthy, stretching you open until you're gasping with every thrust, stuffed full of every inch.

"Fuck, baby," he groans when you clench around him, "you feel that? You hear that shit? You're so fuckin' wet for me I can't even think straight."

Your pussy flutters around him at the praise, and he grunts, deep and desperate, his hips stuttering just slightly when he feels it. Christ, he loves how you always melt when he talks to you like this.

"Shit—squeezin' me so fuckin' tight. You gonna cum for me like this, huh? Gonna let me feel you lose it?"

You don't even mean to moan like that, but God, it just rips out of your throat, high and desperate and raw when it hits you all at once. Your back arches, mouth falling open, gasping around broken little sobs as your orgasm crashes through you.

Your clit throbs hard under his touch, and your thighs tremble like they might give out. You're soaked, dripping around his cock, creamy slick coating his shaft every time he fucks back in. It's messy. So fucking messy. You can feel it on your skin, on your thighs, between them, wet and warm and filthy, just how he likes it.

"That's it, baby," Jason groans, still right at your ear, his voice gone hoarse, "that's my girl. Fuckin' look at you."

He groans again when your pussy clamps down around him, pulsing with each wave of release. He feels every flutter, every slick, tight squeeze, and it drags another low, wrecked sound from his throat.

"Goddamn, you're so fuckin' tight when you cum."

You're barely breathing, still twitching under him, and that's when he finally lets go, hand slipping from your clit, the other loosening from around your neck. You collapse against the couch cushions, boneless and wrecked, lips parted around soft whimpers.

Jason pulls back a little, straightening up behind you so he can watch—hands gripping your hips, thumbs digging into your skin as he fucks into you slow, deep, wet. His eyes are locked on the way your pussy stretches around his dick, swollen and soaked.

"Fuck," he mutters, " I could watch this pussy fuckin' swallow me for hours."

He gives your ass a hard slap, watches the way it jiggles, then spreads you wider just to see it better: his glistening cock sliding in and out of your fluttering hole, dripping with slick and still twitching from how hard you came.

"You feel that? Still fuckin' twitchin' around my dick. You're not done, doll, are you?"

You moan again—loud, needy—your voice cracking as you look over your shoulder at him, lips slick with drool, eyes glassy and blown wide. You're still trembling from your orgasm, still dripping around his cock, and yet you're pushing back into him.

You fuck yourself on him clumsy, desperate, your thighs shaking with the effort, the angle messy, sloppy, obscene. The way your ass bounces back against his hips with each weak, greedy thrust is downright pathetic.

"Jay..." you whimper, breath hitching, "More. Please. Need your cum, baby."

Jason lets out the filthiest moan you've heard tonight, low and guttural and fucking wrecked. His hands tighten on your hips as your pussy flutters around him on purpose, squeezing him with every word, every plea, and he feels it.

"Yeah?" he pants, "you want it that bad, pretty girl?"

You nod frantically, bottom lip trembling, moaning as more drool slips down your chin.

He breathes out a broken, "Jesus fuckin' Christ," right before one hand slams flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down hard into the couch cushions.

Your cheek presses into the fabric, the friction grounding you even as your thoughts spiral. Then he starts to move, fucking into you deep and fast, no more teasing. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the rhythm so unforgiving that you can't do anything but take it. His cock drives into you again and again, stretching you wide, splitting you open, dragging slick noises out of your body that make him groan every damn time.

He watches it all, can't even look away—the way your cunt stretches for him, how soaked you are, how your folds cling to every inch when he pulls back. You're gripping him so tight, and he feels every flutter, every greedy little squeeze when your pussy is trying to drag him right back in.

And fuck if he doesn't give it what it wants, rolling his hips slow, deep, just to see the way your wetness sticks to his cock when he slides out, messy and obscene. Every sound, every little tremble of your thighs, just pushes him closer to the edge, makes him slam back in harder, deeper.

"Fuck," he mutters, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his chest as he keeps pounding into your soaked, twitching hole. "You hear that shit? Hear how wet you are for me, baby?"

You're moaning nonstop, mouth slack, drooling on the cushion beneath you as your eyes roll back, voice going higher and more broken with every thrust. His cock feels so deep, so thick and hot and heavy inside you, and your pussy is fluttering again, slick gushing around him, your body already trying to give him another orgasm.

And Jason can feel every spasm, every wet pull of your pussy as you squeeze him tighter. His grip on your back tightens, holding you down, keeping you right where he wants you.

"You want my cum? Huh, doll? Gonna fill this pretty pussy up, make it drip outta you just so I can push it back in with my dick. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You let out the filthiest sound yet, sobbing through your moans, nodding, choking on a little gasp when his dick hits that spot that makes your toes curl. Jason groans again, sharp and strained, wrecked by how good you feel around him—hot, soaked, clenching, and he knows he's close.

He can't take it anymore, not when you're dripping around his dick and begging for his cum like that, so fucked out and sweet and needy he can barely think.

He slides a hand up your back, rough palm dragging along your spine until it curls around the back of your neck. Not tight, not mean, just firm, because he needs to feel you, keep you close, keep you his. He tugs you back gently but without room to resist, until your spine is arched against him, until your ass is flush to his hips and your back is pressed to his sweat slicked chest.

"C'mere, baby," he pants against your ear.

His other arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place, and then he's using his free hand to finger your clit again, fast and messy, rubbing tight little circles over that swollen bundle of nerves, making you jolt with every pass of his fingers. He doesn't stop fucking you, not even a little. His hips keep snapping up into you, hard and fast and so deep, fucking you through every shake and sob that escapes your parted lips.

You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering open just enough to look up at him, and he looks fucking wrecked.

Dark hair a mess, jaw clenched, cheeks flushed, sweat glistening on his neck, his eyes burning before he kisses you. Sloppy. Wet. Filthy. His lips crush against yours, tongue sliding in deep, moaning into your mouth like he needs the taste of you to survive. The kiss is all teeth and spit and desperate little gasps between breaths, your mouth falling open for him over and over again as he fucks you harder, deeper, chasing the way your walls pulse around his cock.

You can't even kiss him properly. You're so wrecked, all you can do is moan into him, lips twitching and trembling, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as your clit throbs under his fingers.

Jason groans into your mouth, biting your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth for a second before licking over the sting like he can't stand to be gentle, can't stand not to devour you. But you don't want him to.

And the whole time, he doesn't slow down. His cock is soaked, sliding in and out of your tight, dripping pussy like it's his fucking job. Each thrust gets filthier, wetter, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, your slick making obscene noises with every move.

"Fuck," he pants against your lips, hips grinding up into you with a sharp snap, "You're gonna make me lose it, baby. You feel that?"

You whimper, arching into him, legs trembling, so close to breaking again, so close you can barely speak. Your whole body is trembling, legs shaking, fingers gripping his arms while Jason keeps fucking into you from behind, every inch of his cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls. You're making the sweetest little wrecked sounds under your breath, lips swollen and spit slick from that last kiss, eyes glassy with need.

"G-God, Jay—"

It comes out in a gasp, all breath and slur, barely coherent. "Y-you—fuck—you feel so good..."

He groans, lips brushing your temple as he keeps moving inside you, hips slamming up fast and needy.

"Yeah, doll?" he pants, voice wrecked, shaky from how tight and hot you are around him. "You're fuckin' meltin' around my dick, huh?"

You nod like your brain is not even wired right anymore. "Y-yeah... fuck, yes, yes—please, fill me up, Jay, please, I need it, need your cum, baby, please—"

Jason grits his teeth with a sharp hiss, dick throbbing deep inside you at the sound of your voice, all broken and begging and gone. His messy, needy girl, so dick drunk she can't even think straight. That high little whimper in your throat when he grinds in just right, when he presses his fingers harder over your clit, making your pussy spasm around him? He fucking lives for it.

"Shit," he breathes, hand still moving over your clit in tight circles, his hips slapping against your ass. "Fucking love when you sound like that, baby. You hear yourself? Can't even talk, huh? So fucked out, so pretty like this. Mine."

You're babbling, hips twitching, tears prickling in your eyes, your moans pitchy and wrecked as he hammers into you. His rhythm is getting sloppy, the pace stuttering, every thrust a little deeper, a little rougher, desperate.

And then, your orgasm hits like a wave. Your clit throbs under his fingers, your pussy clenches around his cock and you cry out loud, sobbing his name as your walls spasm and flutter, so wet and tight and pulsing around him that he nearly loses it right there.

"F-fuck—"

Jason's whole body jolts, hips jerking as he buries himself deep to the hilt, one last shaky thrust before he lets go. He cums hard, cock twitching, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside your cunt, filling you up until you can feel the heat of it dripping down your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin.

"Jesus—fuckin' hell, baby," he gasps, still twitching faintly inside you.

Your thighs are shaking, your breath is stuck in your throat. Your mind is completely blank except for the feel of his cum dripping out of you and the way he's keeping you pressed against him.

His breath is hot against your shoulder when he finally moves again, mouth brushing lazy kisses along your damp skin. He's still buried deep inside you, cock thick and twitching, your cunt swollen and soaked from how hard he just fucked you.

His arms wrap around your waist, keeping you snug against him. "Good, pretty girl?" he mumbles against your skin, voice warm and all fucked out.

You nod, your body still trembling a little as you sink back against him. "Mhmm," you manage. "So good."

Your hips shift instinctively, a tiny grind back against his dick and fuck, he gasps. You both feel how sensitive he is, how your sore, fluttering pussy tightens just a little around him, slick and warm and still dripping with both your cum.

"More, baby," you whine breathlessly.

"Jesus," he hisses, teeth catching your skin as his fingers grip your waist tighter. "Don't fuckin' do that, doll. Gonna make me lose it."

But you can't help it. Your body is greedy for him, always has been. Even now, with your thighs trembling and your cunt already stretched wide, full, aching, you want more. You always want more with Jason because it's never just the size of him or the way his dick hits so deep you see stars.

No, it's the way he touches you like you matter, the way he learned every part of you. The way he's been obsessed with your pleasure since the very first time he had you moaning under him, soaked and begging.

You grind again, just a little. Another tiny roll of your hips, needing the drag of his cock against your raw, oversensitive walls and he groans, low and guttural, like you're torturing him. You are.

His dick twitches again inside you, still hard, still so thick and perfect, nestled deep in your wet, clenching heat. You're throbbing around him, your slick walls fluttering with every breath, hugging his cock perfectly. Even after all this time together, even after countless nights of being fucked dumb by this man, there's just something about him—his hands, his mouth, his voice, the way he praises you, how he looks at you like he's still stupidly in love. And he is. That's why Jason never stops making you feel wanted, safe, loved, never stops making you feel good.

And right now? Your body wants more. You gasp when you bend forward again, both hands bracing against the couch cushions, your body practically melting back into position. Jason's still buried inside you, hot and thick and so deep, and even that small shift has your pussy clenching hard around him, slick and sensitive. He groans behind you, his head tipping back for just a second like he's trying to breathe before his eyes drag down your back to your ass, spread wide, twitching a little, glistening. And he can't stop looking at it.

You're leaking, dripping around his cock, messy and swollen and so pretty he wants to sink to his knees just to watch. His hands tighten on your waist, and then one drags down, fingers gathering a smear of his cum from where it's pooled at the base of his dick. He knows what he's doing before he even lets himself think about it.

"God, baby," he breathes, voice all heat, "look at you."

And then he slides that slick finger up between your cheeks, slow, dragging it over that tight little hole, and the noise you make? That sweet, sudden moan from deep in your chest? God, he nearly fucking loses it. You tense instantly, pussy clamping around his dick, and he groans.

"Shit," he mutters, voice rough and breathless. "You like that, baby?"

You whimper, high and needy, and push back against him, just like you did earlier, ass pressing into his hips with this desperate little roll. "Y-Yeah..."

He doesn't think, just moves. One slow push of his finger, just the tip, just enough to feel that tight resistance give under him. And fuck, the way your whole body shudders, how you arch for him, legs trembling, he watches the reaction ripple down your spine and groans.

"Yeah, doll?" he asks again, softer, coaxing, even though his cock is throbbing inside you, twitching at how soaked and warm you still are. "That feel good?"

You nod, whining, voice fucked out and breathless as you try to rock your hips again, his cock dragging against your still pulsing walls, his finger teasing in just a little deeper. You look fucking wrecked, needy and messy and glowing under the low light, your body begging for more like you can't even help it.

And Jason? He's about to lose his shit. He knows he's thought about this. Late at night, in the shower, on those long patrols where he can't stop remembering the way your ass looks when you're bouncing on top of him while you're taking his dick.

He's thought about it so many times—just touching, just teasing, just wanting to see how you'd react—but he's never done it. Never dared. Because the last thing he'd ever want is to push you too far, make you feel like you owed him anything, make you uncomfortable. That's never what this is about.

But the way you're moaning? The way your body shivers when he slides his finger in a little deeper and starts gently moving it in and out, just barely? Christ. You're soaking him again, your pussy fluttering and greedy, trying to pull him in deeper, walls so warm and wet and perfect.

He pulls his cock out almost all the way, just to watch, just to see how you clench, how his cum leaks out of you in slow drips. And then he pushes back in, slow and deep, both of you moaning, because he slides in so easily, snug and slick and tight all at once.

Jason doesn't even get the chance to move—doesn't get a chance to pull his hips back, set a pace, nothing—because the second he's buried inside you again, you start fucking yourself back on his cock like you've lost your goddamn mind.

You gasp, hips rolling, clumsy and desperate, grinding down until you're taking every thick inch of him with this slick, messy slide that makes your body tremble. His cock stretches you open, dragging over every spot inside you that makes your legs shake and fuck, it feels so good you don't even care how wrecked you sound.

And then there's his finger. You'd never thought you'd be into this. Not with the way your exes treated you, like your body was some puzzle they couldn't be bothered to figure out, all selfish hands and no patience, making you feel like it was your fault when it didn't feel good. They'd never cared. Never tried. They'd barely been able to fuck you right, much less... this. But Jason?

Good fucking lord. Jason touches you like he wants you to come apart, like your pleasure is his favorite thing. Like making you feel good is some kind of fucking art form, and he's been studying for it his whole life. The way his finger works into your ass, slow and careful, his hand steady on your hip while you fuck yourself back on his cock? The way he moans every time your pussy tightens up around him?

Yeah, you're never gonna get enough of this man. He groans behind you, rough and wrecked, his thumb pressing into your hip, holding you steady even though you're grinding back on him so desperately it's making his thighs tense.

"Jesus, doll... fuckin'—look at you," he rasps. "So goddamn greedy. You just can't help yourself, huh?"

You moan, loud, pitching forward a little on shaky arms as your walls flutter around his cock—and his finger. And it's filthy, the way your ass clenches down around him every time his finger rocks in, the way your sloppy pussy grips his dick so tight it makes him groan through his teeth.

He swears under his breath, head dropping forward as he watches you bounce back on him. You're so fucking insatiable, and it's driving him fucking insane. The noises you let out? These desperate, whiny, punched out moans every time you push back and grind down? Yeah, the neighbors are definitely complaining tomorrow. Not that it's the first time.

And not that Jason gives a single fuck. Because right now, he's got his perfect girl fucking herself on his dick, soaking him, whining for him, moaning like she wants the whole goddamn building to hear. And all he can do is hold your hip tight, finger your ass slow, and praise you for it.

"Who would've fuckin' thought. My pretty girl, so goddamn desperate to get both these holes stuffed full."

His words make you clench—around his cock, around his finger—and he feels it, the way your pussy flutters and grips him tight.

And fuck, his dick? Soaked. You're creaming all over him, slick making a filthy, messy ring at the base of his cock every time you grind back down, every time you fuck yourself onto him. His skin is slick with it—yours too—and you're both a goddamn mess.

He watches you get sloppy with it, sees how your thighs tremble, how you whine under your breath but you're still so fucking needy. Still chasing it like it's the only thing you want. And it fucking is.

Jason grins as he gives your hip a tight squeeze. "Maybe lemme fuck you, baby," he mutters, "really fuck you."

And he does. One slow pull back, his cock dragging over every swollen, soaked ridge inside you before he sinks in hard, hips smacking against your ass with a sound so sharp it makes your breath hitch.

His free hand holds you tight at the waist, steadying you. The other one is still teasing your ass, finger working slow inside you until Jason shifts his grip, spreads his fingers wider across your hip. His thumb hooks just above the curve of your ass, spreading your cheeks a little more, just enough for him to tilt his head down, let a thick bead of spit drip right between them.

It lands warm on your skin and you shudder, a broken moan punching out of your throat as your pussy clamps down around his dick, squeezing him so hard he swears under his breath.

"Fuck, that's it," Jason groans, snapping his hips forward again, his cock splitting you open on a wet, filthy slide.

And God, the way you take him, slick and swollen, your cunt clenching so tight it drags over every vein on his dick. The sound of skin slapping against skin, thick and obscene, bounces off the walls, the couch creaking under you both.

The sight of his cock sinking into your messy pussy, slick dripping down his balls, that obscene little stretch every time he pushes in? Yeah, that's about to break him.

"Jay—fuck—don't stop, baby, please..."

Your voice cracks every time his hips snap forward and you don't even know if you're making sense anymore. At this point, it's just a string of yes, please, more, fuck tumbling out.

"P-please... feels so g-good..."

Your words come out all stuttery, cracked at the edges, spilling out between breathless little whines every time his cock slams deep, every time his finger works a little further inside your ass.

"Look at you," he pants, voice low and rough, "so fuckin' pretty like this. Can't get enough, huh, baby?"

He can't believe how desperate you are right now—how you're dripping down his cock, pussy fluttering around him—and all it took was his spit slicked finger easing deeper in your ass while he fucks your cunt open, dragging his cock over every spot that makes you whimper.

You're a goddamn mess. Sweaty, clenching, rocking back into him like it's all you know how to do. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you back to meet every hard, punishing thrust.

And fuck, seeing you like this? Head tipped forward, moaning for him, mouth hanging open as you babble out wrecked little pleas between gasps? He's fucking losing it and fast.

"Goddamn, baby," he breathes, hips snapping forward hard enough your whole body jolts, "fuckin' takin' it like my good girl... so fuckin' perfect for me."

He means it. Means every word because even after all this time, even after all the ways he's had you, the way you fall apart for him like this, the way your pussy grips his dick so tight, soaked and swollen and perfect, you're his. All his.

"Y-Yes—right there, fuck—"

Your voice breaks on a moan, high and sharp, and then you fall apart. It hits you fast and mean, your whole body tensing before it shudders, legs shaking under you as your pussy clamps down around Jason's dick, hot and pulsing and so fucking wet. Your walls flutter, squeezing him in desperate, spasming little aftershocks, slick gushing around him with every twitch of your hips.

And your ass? Fuck, your ass clenches around his finger, tight and perfect, your whole body so wound up you're gripping him everywhere. Jason moans, rocking his hips in slow, deep thrusts just to feel your puffy walls milking his dick desperately.

And shit, the way you're shaking, gasping, whining his name like you need him even after cumming that hard? Jason's right on the edge. Because fuck if it doesn't tear him open every single time, seeing you fall apart for him like this, knowing it's his dick, his hands, his praise wrecking you.

His stomach tightens, hips grinding in deep as his own orgasm builds hot and thick in his gut. "Fuck—"

It rips out of him right before his hips jerk forward, burying his cock deep inside you. You feel the hard throb of his dick as it twitches deep in your cunt and then hot, thick spurts of cum flood your spent little hole, warm and sticky and so much.

You gasp, a whiny little "God, yes—" tumbling past your lips as your walls clench down around him, sucking every drop.

His whole body tightens with every slow, dragging spurt of cum—your pussy fluttering around him, sucking him in deep—and you keep moving, pushing back in tiny, shaky little rolls of your hips, fucking him sloppily through it, milking him for everything he's got.

"Jesus—" he hisses between his teeth, hips giving a few messy, uneven thrusts before he finally empties the last thick pulse inside you.

And when he eases his finger out of your ass, slow and careful, you shudder all over, whimpering.

"Shhh, doll," Jason murmurs, leaning over your back, his mouth finding your sweaty skin in soft, soothing kisses. "It's okay. Breathe for me, yeah?"

You nod, cheek squished against the couch cushions because Christ, you can barely hold yourself up—body limp, legs trembling, everything hot and heavy and soaked. And he stays there with you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his lips brushing over your shoulder, your spine, anywhere he can reach, soft kisses pressed into every inch of damp skin while his palm rubs your side.

"Good girl," he whispers, voice soft against your skin.

You whimper, soft and breathy when his dick twitches inside you, your body giving a little involuntary shudder and Jason hums, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out.

You moan at the feeling, wrecked and overstimulated, your pussy fluttering around nothing and Jason lets out a soft, breathless chuckle behind you.

"Don't do that, doll," he murmurs, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. "Or I might fuck you again."

"Don't even joke right now," you mumble, your voice hoarse and so, so wrecked.

He huffs a soft laugh and then flops down on the couch beside you, big arms reaching for you, easing you into his side with a gentleness that makes your heart clench. He tugs you right against him, hooking one of your shaky legs over his hip, his palm splaying warm and steady over your thigh.

You bury your face against his chest, nuzzling into the warm skin there as you try to shift your leg off him, murmuring, "Jay, I'm dripping..."

And you are. You can feel it. His cum, thick and warm, leaking slow from your sore, fucked out pussy, sticky between your thighs.

Jason snorts, "Yeah, well, I don't give a fuck, baby. We'll wash up."

His hand slides up your back, rubbing soft, slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Just relax for me."

You do. Little by little, your body melts against his as he keeps holding you close, kissing your damp hair, your cheek, the soft skin of your temple, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes over your spine while your heart finally starts to slow.

You can't help the way your thoughts spin, soft and hazy, floating on that warm, fucked out high. Because God, this side of Jason? The soft, tender, sweet aftercare, the way he holds you? You love it so fucking much.

You hadn't expected this when you first got together. Like, you'd figured he'd be good in bed just from the way he'd kiss you—obviously—figured he'd wreck you six ways from Sunday. But this? The way he takes care of you after? The kisses, the soft touches, the whispered praises while he helps you come back down? You didn't think he'd have it in him. But fuck, does he ever.

You're still shivering. A little from the way he fucked you open, your body wrecked and overstimulated, and a little from the chill hanging in the air now that the sweat is cooling on your skin but Jason clocks it instantly.

He doesn't even give you a chance to blink before he's shifting under you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hauls you right on top of him, chest to chest, your legs falling limp around his sides.

"Jay—" you squeak, breath catching in your throat, giggling when your weight settles on him.

You're basically a rag doll at this point, and even if you wanted to fight him on it... yeah, that's not happening.

You manage a weak little swat at his chest, your palm making a soft thud against his damp skin. "God, you're impossible."

But you don't move. Fuck, you melt against him, burying your face right into the warm crook of his neck because well... it's Jason. Human furnace. Walking radiator. His arms are snug around you, broad chest rising and falling beneath yours, heart beating steady like a drum.

Your pussy is still dripping, a slow, sticky slide between your thighs, but you don't care, and he sure as hell doesn't either.

Jason huffs a soft breath, his arms tightening just a little, his hand splayed across your spine. "I love you so fuckin' much, pretty girl," he mumbles against your temple. "You're fuckin' perfect, you know that?"

You hum against his skin, brushing your nose along the line of his neck before tilting your head up just enough to catch his eyes and a soft, cheeky smile tugs at your lips. "You literally said I'm a pain in your ass this morning."

Jason snorts. Real, genuine. His chest shakes with it as his hand glides up your back. "Nah, I was just teasing, baby."

He ducks his head a little, lips pressing against your forehead. "You're perfect."

And the way he looks at you—eyes soft and open, the faintest curve of a smile on his lips—God, it's like you hung the fucking stars in his sky.

You can't help it. The giggle bubbles right up out of you. And Jason's heart? Shit, it fucking stumbles because this? This is everything to him. You, soft and smiling in his arms after he's spent himself inside you, still trembling a little but safe, his. He can't get over it. Can't get over you.

The way you trust him with your body, your heart, the way you laugh like that? He's so gone for you it's not even funny. You shift against him, a lazy little scoot that drags your slick skin over his, until you're close enough to reach his lips. And without even thinking, you lean in, pressing soft, sleepy kisses right over that stupidly pretty mouth of his. Just a soft brush at first, barely there.

Jason blinks down at you, eyebrows lifting, mouth twitching at the corners, trying so hard to look unimpressed. That lazy, cocky drawl slips out, rough around the edges.

"Fucked you that good, huh?"

You nod, lips still ghosting over his, and your soft little giggle is muffled against his mouth. You don't even try to deny it—why would you? You know what you sound like. Wrecked, floaty, breathless.

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You little shit."

But his hand comes up, big and warm at the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair and when he pulls you back down, his mouth meets yours in a kiss that's nothing like the teasing.

It's deep. Hot. His lips move slow, but there's nothing soft about it, nothing casual about the way his tongue brushes against yours, slick and hungry, dragging a quiet moan from your throat before he swallows it down His tongue brushes against yours, a smooth, wet glide that makes you shudder all over again and your pussy, traitorous as ever, throbs.

God. You can feel it—your walls clenching around nothing, raw and slick, a slow, aching pulse right between your legs. You don't even care how sloppy it gets. The wet glide of your lips, the little sounds of your mouths working together, his soft groans when you suck on his tongue, your needy whimpers when he tilts his head and deepens it until you can't even tell where your breath ends and his begins.

You kiss like that for minutes. Long, drawn out, open mouthed kisses that leave you dizzy and boneless in his arms, your legs limp around his waist, your hips squirming without meaning to when his other hand slides down—grips your ass, big palm squeezing hard enough to make you whimper.

Your sweaty skin sticks where you press together, slick thighs half spread over his hips, your chest pressed against his warm, steady heartbeat. You finally break the kiss with a little gasp, your lips tingling, both of you breathing hard like you'd just run a mile instead of making out like horny teenagers on your couch.

You barely manage a soft, breathless, "Love you, Jay."

Jason doesn't even hesitate. He leans in, presses the lightest kiss to the tip of your nose—so fucking soft, like you aren't both a sweaty, fucked out mess on the couch—and murmurs, "Love you too, doll."

You smush your cheek right against his, nuzzling in like some sleepy cat while your arms drape lazily around his shoulders.

"Ready to go clean up?" he asks, voice low, lips brushing your temple.

You let out a pitiful little whine. "Nooo..." you stretch the word out, all soft and pouty, barely moving. "I'm tired..."

Jason lets out a quiet snort. "I'll carry you."

You nuzzle deeper into the curve of his neck like a stubborn little gremlin, mumbling, "Nooo..."

He huffs and smacks your ass with a firm slap that makes you squeak. "We're sticky as fuck, baby."

You pout against his skin, voice all sleepy and dramatic. "Don't care."

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, you absolutely do, pretty girl."

His hand slides up your spine, rubbing slow, soothing circles like that'll make you move somehow.

You let out a soft little huff, your lips still pressed against his jaw, and mumble, "Maybe..."

He shakes his head, biting back a grin. "Alright. Five more minutes, then I'm scoopin' your cute ass up and haulin' you straight into the shower. Yeah?"

You hum against him, all soft and small. "Yeah, okay."

He sits there, holding you close while your body melts against his—bare skin sticky with sweat and cum, hair damp, your soft little breaths warming his throat—and he feels it again. That quiet, bone deep thud in his chest because sometimes? He still can't believe it.

Can't believe you're this soft with him. This clingy and sweet and trusting, curling up in his arms and rubbing your cheek against his. And he never thought he'd have this, never thought he'd let himself want it, really. This messy, domestic, heart aching more he'd always told himself wasn't in the cards for a guy like him. But here he is.

Jason Todd. Sitting on a pink ass couch he didn't pick with the prettiest girl he's ever known sprawled on top of him like some warm, sleepy kitten while he rubs your back and breathes you in and feels his chest go all soft and stupid over how fucking much he loves you.

And maybe that shouldn't surprise him after everything. After all the shit he's been through—dying, for fuck's sake, coming back and crawling his way through hell and heartbreak and fights he never really won. After walking away from Bruce, from everything he thought he was supposed to be.

He really figured he'd be on his own for a good while. Not forever, but long enough that this? A girl who loves him like you do? Who calls him Jay, kisses the tip of his nose like he's worth something, falls asleep half draped over him since the first night you spent together? Yeah, he never fucking thought he'd have that.

Not until you came along—soft, stubborn, sweet as hell—and wrecked every single wall he built without even trying. Your stomach picks that moment to let out the loudest, most pathetic growl and Jason huffs a laugh right against your temple.

"Okay," he snorts, pressing a kiss there, "I think that's our cue for cleanin' up, baby."

But you just let out a soft, miserable whine and mumble, "But 'm comfy..." all pitiful, nose still nuzzled into his neck like you've got no bones left in your body.

He chuckles under his breath. "Don't be a brat," he says all fond even as his hand comes down in a playful smack against your ass that makes you squeak.

And before you can protest any more, he's already shifting under you, dragging both of you upright on the couch.

You cling, of course. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, your soaked pussy pressed right up against his abs as you bury your face against his shoulder with a sleepy little groan. And God, Jason swears under his breath because you're still fucking dripping on him, but does he care? Not even a little.

If anything, his big hands cup your ass even tighter as he stands, hauling you up with him, carrying you around while you're leaking cum down his stomach.

"Jesus, doll," he murmurs with a crooked grin as you hang onto him like a sleepy, clingy little monkey, "you're real committed to this whole limp noodle thing, huh?"

You hum against his neck, arms tightening around him and he huffs, heading straight for the bathroom with you wrapped around him, flipping the light on with his elbow, maneuvering around like he's done it a hundred times before.

When he finally tries to set you down so he can reach for the shower, you just whimper and cling tighter, legs squeezing around his waist.

Jason groans, amused. "You gonna make me wrestle you off, doll?"

Your answer? A sleepy little shake of your head as you smush your face against his neck again.

He lets out a low hum as he waits for the water to warm, shifting just enough to bury his face in your hair, arms full of you, one hand firm under your ass, holding you steady against him. And yeah, maybe he could be a little shit right now. Maybe he should be teasing you for clinging to him, but instead, his other hand just rubs slow circles up and down your back.

Because no matter how much Jason likes to act like he's all gruff and mean, you've got him so fucking soft for you it's honestly embarrassing. You sigh against his neck, nuzzling in, and he just holds you closer.

After a minute, when the steam starts slowly curling up around both of you, Jason reaches out with his free hand and checks the water with his knuckles. Warm enough.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he murmurs, giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

"Okay," you mumble softly.

He sets you down carefully in the shower, hands lingering on your waist as you wobble a little on unsteady legs before stepping in right behind you, arms slipping around you again.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs against your temple.

"Yeah," you hum, leaning back into him, letting him hold you up.

"How's your throat?"

Your shoulders lift in a tiny shrug. You're still a little floaty—warm, wrung out, and sore in all the right places—and you're honestly not even sure how your throat feels right now, but you have to admit that it's kind of sore. And he knows it.

"I'm gonna make you some tea after this, yeah?" he says as his hands smooth over your stomach, big palms rubbing gentle circles over your skin.

You nod sleepily.

"Good girl," he praises under his breath, letting one hand linger on your belly while the other reaches for the body wash, keeping you tucked against him as you stand there, still a little shaky on your feet.

Jason works slow, steady, hands smoothing over your skin with that quiet, unhurried care that always makes your chest ache a little. He starts with your shoulders, massaging soft circles into your skin as he works the body wash into a light lather. Every so often, he dips his head and presses a sweet, warm kiss to your shoulder blade, your nape, the side of your neck, little soft touches that have your eyes fluttering shut, your muscles going loose under his hands.

"You're so fuckin' good for me," he murmurs, that low voice that's meant just for you.

You make a tiny sound, swaying a little on your feet again and Jason can't help the soft chuckle that rumbles low in his chest when your stomach lets out another grumble.

You squint over your shoulder at him, trying for a glare but ruining it with a wide, sleepy yawn.

He smirks, all soft teasing. "You tryin' to tell me somethin', pretty girl?"

"Shut up," you mumble, leaning back into his chest anyway.

And God, he fucking loves this. He keeps his hands gentle, working over your arms, down your sides, rinsing you off slow. Then he reaches for the shampoo, getting a little in his palm before carefully working it through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with this ridiculous, feather light touch that has your knees damn near buckling.

And it hits you again like it always fucking does. For a guy built like a walking brick wall, with hands big enough to snap a man in half, Jason's hands are always so fucking gentle with you. And maybe you should be used to it by now, but you're not, and neither is he.

Because while he washes you, Jason is watching every little twitch of your body against his, every soft sigh you let out, every sleepy little sway and all he can think is fuck.

This life you've built together? The late mornings, the soft kisses, the dumb arguments over who burned the damn toast, the fucking and the sweet aftercare and the way you crawl into his lap like you belong there? He wouldn't trade a goddamn second of it.

You cling to him like you always do—arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest while the warm water rinses the last of the soap suds off both your bodies. You press lazy kisses to his skin, right over his heart, and Jason huffs a soft laugh, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

"Real fuckin' clingy today, huh?" he teases, but he kisses the top of your head anyway.

You hum, nosing at his chest. "Mmhmm."

When the water finally cools, he reaches around you to shut it off, steps out first, grabbing a thick towel off the rack before holding it open. You blink at him, all soft and sleepy, and he smiles.

"C'mere, pretty girl."

You shuffle forward, and the second your feet hit the mat, he's wrapping you up tight, tucking you in like a warm little burrito. Then he grabs another towel, slinging it low around his waist before taking your hand.

You toddle after him, your damp feet making soft sounds against the floor as he leads you back into the bedroom. The big towel swamps your frame, your brows pinched in sleepy little furrows and your lips stuck in a soft pout, and Jason has to bite back a laugh.

God, you look so fucking cute like this. He gives your hand a little squeeze before letting go, walking over to the closet. You plop down on the edge of the bed with a soft huff, the towel still bundled around you while you watch him pull out a pair of panties, some fluffy socks, and one of his old t-shirts, the faded black one you always steal.

He tugs on a pair of boxers, glancing back at you when he turns around just in time to see you sitting there like the sleepiest little thing alive, bundled and pouting, blinking slow like a worn out kitten and his chest fucking squeezes.

He crosses the room, drops down to his knees in front of you, and presses a soft kiss to your knees before he starts unwrapping the towel.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," he mutters, all fake gruff. "You're gonna kill me, doll."

You giggle, kicking your legs a little as he dries you off gently, moving slow like you'll break if he's too rough. Once you're dry, he slips the socks on your feet, smoothing his hands up your calves before standing up again.

"Arms up, baby."

You lift them—barely—and he snorts, tugging the oversized shirt down over your head, letting it fall soft and cozy over your body before helping you into the panties.

"Perfect," he says, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on, let's feed your gremlin ass."

You trail after him to the kitchen, shuffling your feet, wearing his damn t-shirt like it's armor. And of course, the second you get there, he spins, grabs your hips, and hauls you right up onto the counter.

"Jesus, Jason!" you squeak, grabbing at his shoulders. "Why are you like this?"

He quirks a brow, all smug as he steps in between your legs, hands sliding slow over your bare thighs. "Like what?"

You huff, giving him the best scowl you can muster right now. "Stupid."

His grin pulls wide, and it's pure trouble. "That so?"

And before you can open your mouth to fire back, his hand tips your chin up, his thumb brushing soft over your jaw as he leans in slow, mouth ghosting over yours, just barely there until you let out a tiny, involuntary gasp. That's all it takes.

His mouth slants over yours, hot and hungry. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming, licking into you like he's got every right and you don't even fucking fight it. You melt, arms sliding up around his shoulders, fingers curling into his hair as he kisses you deep and filthy, mouths moving messy against each other, your soft little moans swallowed right up.

You don't even realize how close your bodies are until you feel it. That slow, lazy grind of his hips, his dick getting hard again. You whimper, your thighs squeezing instinctively around his waist when the swollen head of his dick presses against your sore, aching pussy. The fabric drags right over your clit and you whine, trying not to melt on the counter even though you're wrung out and boneless.

"Jay—" you pant, breaking the kiss, your forehead resting against his.

"What?" he says all innocent, eyes sparkling like the bastard he is.

"You're such a fucking problem," you breathe, trying to glare but failing because your thighs are twitching and your cheeks are flushed.

You open your mouth—ready to tell him off, ready with something sharp—but you don't even get the chance before he bites the tip of your nose. Gentle, but still enough to make you yelp.

"Jason!"

And he's already pulling back, laughing under his breath as he adjusts his half hard dick through his boxers and strolls toward the fridge like nothing happened.

"Now you're just an asshole," you mutter, rubbing your nose with a pout.

"Yep," he tosses over his shoulder, already pulling out leftovers like he didn't just kiss you stupid and grind against your wrecked pussy.

He moves around the kitchen with way too much efficiency for a man who just fucked the soul out of you not half an hour ago. You watch him with your arms crossed over your chest, still sitting on the counter like the world's poutiest little menace, and every time his eyes flick your way, you hold his gaze, giving him your best scowl, but it only makes him huff a laugh under his breath.

He grabs a wooden board from the cabinet, starts piling on slices of ham and a few hunks of that fancy cheese you like. Not that he'd admit it, but he knows the brand by heart now. Cuts up some apples, tosses on a handful of grapes, throws in some sliced cucumber and those mini peppers you always snack on. He digs out your favorite crackers from the back of the cabinet, the ones he may have called "cardboard ass health crap" the first time you bought them, and he stocks them like it's his personal mission.

While the water heats on the stove, he keeps sneaking glances at you—your pouty little self, sitting there with your legs swinging, bottom lip jutting out, your damp messy hair falling into your eyes like some pissed off kitten.

God, you're a menace sometimes. Always have been. But you're his menace, so he never complains.

He makes your tea, stirs in the honey and a splash of milk the way you like it, sets it aside to cool and without a word, he crosses back to you. You blink when his arms slide under your thighs and around your back, lifting you right off the counter with ease.

"Baby—"

"Uh-uh," he hums, pressing a warm kiss right to your forehead. "Don't even start with me, pretty girl."

You go soft in his arms instantly, arms sneaking around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the side of his throat with a little huff. He carries you straight to the couch, sitting you down carefully before snagging the blanket off the backrest and wrapping it snug around your shoulders.

"Stay put," he murmurs, tapping your nose.

And before you can get all bratty again, he's already headed back to the kitchen, grabbing the plate, your tea, and a can of Coke for himself. Jason comes back with the plate and your tea, settling down beside you. You don't even have to move, he tugs you right up against his side with a little grunt, drapes his arm over your shoulders, and shifts you half into his lap until you're practically blanketed by his big ass body.

"Alright, c'mere," he murmurs, nudging your head to rest on his shoulder. He presses a kiss into your temple, voice dropping low and soft. "C'mon, baby. Drink for me."

You roll your eyes because of course he makes even tea sound like an order, but you lift the mug anyway, sipping slow. The second the warm liquid hits your throat, you melt with a soft, grateful hum.

Jason grins, smug as hell. "Yeah, that's my good girl."

You nudge his side with your elbow, and he chuckles, grabbing a slice of apple from the plate and holding it out for you. You take a bite right from his fingers with a little mhm, chewing happily while he just watches you.

And of course, because he's him, "Y'know," he drawls, casual as can be, "you got real fuckin' loud when I had my finger up your ass earlier."

You nearly choke on your tea. "Jason!"

He snorts, all shameless, watching you sputter as your face goes up in flames. "What? Thought you liked it, baby."

"I did—" you hiss, swatting at his chest with the hand not holding your mug, "—now shut the fuck up and feed me."

He snorts again, all teeth and smug grin, and gives your thigh a little squeeze. "Brat."

But he still grabs a cracker, tops it with some cheese and ham, and holds it up for you and you take it happily, chewing with a satisfied little smile like the spoiled girl you are.

By the time an hour rolls by, the board is picked clean, your tea mug is empty on the coffee table, and you're deadweight against his chest, your soft little breaths puffing against his neck while your arms stay tucked tight around his middle.

Jason glances down at you with a quiet little huff, adjusting the blanket so it's snug around your shoulders. You barely even stir, except to nuzzle closer, one leg hitched over his like you're trying to fuse into him. Christ.

He shifts, grabbing the remote with his free hand and flicking through whatever trash is on this late—some dumbass reality show with more bleeped out words than actual dialogue—but his mind is a million miles away.

He groans under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face as his dick gives a familiar, very inconvenient throb against the soft cotton of his boxers because he can't get the sight of you out of his head—hands gripping the couch like your life depended on it, hips arching back, your voice wrecked and all needy as he fucked you open. The way you'd sobbed his name, begged him not to stop.

He sighs, eyes dropping back down to you.

And you're just... out. Completely gone. Mouth slightly open, already drooling on his chest and somehow, still the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen. His.

Jason scoffs quietly to himself, shaking his head as he sinks a little deeper into the cushions. His dick can wait. He's got you wrapped around him like a sleepy little koala, and he's pretty sure this—you—is his happy place and there's no shot in hell he's moving anytime soon.

[kxsagi]

Hope you're having a great day!!

Okay, so like, I've been hyperfixating on reader × bllk boys where the reader is an amazing cook and she always has food prepared for them when they get home, makes them snacks, creates culinary masterpieces catered to them and their diet, etc. Food is basically one of their love languages - breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, lunch, afternoon tea, supper, dinner... 😋 They're the type to not let a hungry mouth go unfed and makes sure people have eaten and hydrated and so on.

Requesting Rin, Sae, Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, Shidou, Reo, Nagi, Gagamaru, Karasu, Yukimiya, Barou, Kunigami and anyone else you want to add 😘

“𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟’𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬”

a/n: i had a good day and i hope you did and are having one, too!!!

this is so cute tysmmm

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, ness alexis, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, gagamaru gin, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke

itoshi rin

rin doesn’t know how to handle the concept of “being cared for.” the first time you hand him a lunchbox with grilled chicken, veggie rice, and miso soup, he holds it like you gave him a live grenade. 

he opens it in the locker room with a neutral expression and immediately turns red because you wrote “have a good practice, dummy <3” on the napkin. 

complains to himself the whole time. “why would she make the egg rolls into little hearts. that’s so annoying.” eats all of it. 

he starts texting you mid-practice: “are we having the chicken stew again tonight” “i’m just asking so i know if i need protein now or later. not because i want it. shut up.” 

one day he forgets his lunch and actually has the nerve to sulk. you find him kicking a ball at the wall violently. “don’t talk to me.” “why?” “you didn’t pack my damn salmon.” 

he starts bringing you fruit or random ingredients like “i thought you could use this for… whatever it is you do.” 

if someone else touches your food, he will glare until they evaporate. 

itoshi sae

the worst food snob. he eats like he’s been to every luxury restaurant on earth and judges all food accordingly. 

you once made him a wagyu donburi with truffle oil and a soft-boiled egg. he stared at it for a long time, then muttered: “you’re better than half the chefs in madrid.” 

you’re pretty sure that was his version of a marriage proposal. 

he’ll “casually” mention your cooking in interviews. “i’m staying sharp thanks to a very particular meal plan. no, i’m not giving out the name of my chef.” 

randomly calls you at midnight like “what’s in the fridge?” and if you say “just leftovers,” he goes “oh. tragic.” 

likes to lean on the counter, watching you cook with a smug little smile. “you love me. that’s why you’re adding garlic, right?” 

his teammates start asking who’s making his meals. he just smirks. “classified.” 

has called rin to brag about your teriyaki chicken. “she even does the rice like mom used to. stay jealous.” 

isagi yoichi

your #1 hype man. every single time you feed him he acts like you saved him from the brink of death. 

“BABE. THIS IS ACTUALLY THE BEST THING I’VE EVER EATEN. I’M ASCENDING.” 

calls you “chef angel baby” and kisses the back of your hand in thanks every meal. 

shows up home sweaty and gross after practice, and the second he smells food he literally runs into your arms. 

tried to help you cook once. ended up cutting carrots into weird polygon shapes and called them “abstract nutrition art.” 

he loves when you make snack boxes for his friends too. gives them out like lunch lady of the year: “these are from my amazing girlfriend who loves me very much and is also better than your girlfriend.” 

if you forget to feed yourself, he will throw a gentle tantrum. 

“you’re not allowed to feed me if you’re hungry, too. that’s illegal.” 

once cried over how good your banana bread was. full tears. 

kaiser michael

you made the mistake of feeding this man once. now he treats you like his personal executive chef. 

struts into the kitchen shirtless, kisses your temple and goes, “and what does my star cook have on the menu today?” 

he calls you “mein süßes käsebrötchen�� (my sweet cheese bun) and it’s concerning. 

but then you catch him stealing bread off the cooling rack while humming with his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. 

the second he tastes your food, he becomes a menace. won’t stop bragging. “i don’t need restaurants. i have her.” 

throws a fit if he sees you cooking for anyone else. glares at isagi while chewing your lasagna with heartbreak in his eyes. 

starts making you “menus” with little doodles and dramatic requests like “a meal that inspires me to break ankles and steal souls on the pitch.” 

secretly gets serious about health because your meals balance flavor and macros. 

also will fight ness if he gets the better snack. "his had a strawberry on top. why didn't mine have a strawberry." 

ness alexis

he treats your cooking like it’s rare art. genuinely gasps every time you present a plate. 

eats everything with perfect posture and says things like “mm. the texture. the mouthfeel. the tenderness.” like he’s on masterchef. 

loves when you plate things cute for him. little bento bears with cheese hearts? he swoons. every time. 

you leave sticky notes like “don’t forget to hydrate!” or “no skipping meals or i’ll cry” in his lunchbox and he keeps every single one. 

if anyone says your food is just “okay,” he’ll go on a speech: “you uncultured barbarian. that was carrot soup. not just soup. CARROT. WITH NUTMEG. she used infused broth.” 

will show up to your kitchen in an apron like “can i help?” and proceeds to stir the sauce like a disney princess. 

acts like you’re the royal chef. bows when you hand him tea. 

shidou ryusei

“WIFE BEHAVIOR!!!” he screams the first time you feed him takoyaki. 

you’re just trying to make sure he eats something that isn’t a protein bar. instead, you get a man sprawled across your kitchen table going “I WOULD BURN THE WORLD FOR THIS.” 

eats like a caveman, but you let it slide because his joy is too pure. 

literally cries when you feed him strawberries dipped in chocolate. “it’s sweet. it’s warm. it’s love. I LOVE YOU.” 

says outrageous stuff like “your food makes my neurons twerk.” 

writes songs about your meals: “ode to the lasagna that healed my inner child.” 

you started giving him “calm-down cookies” after games and now he expects them like a toddler. 

once accidentally bit into a raw potato trying to help you cook. “i thought it was an apple.” 

no matter how psycho he is, the second you call “food’s ready!” he becomes a golden retriever on crack. 

mikage reo

this man lives in luxury and still thinks your food is better than any five-star chef. 

you made him strawberry pancakes once and he LITERALLY TOOK A PICTURE, PRINTED IT, AND PUT IT IN HIS WALLET. 

he’ll facetime you from the office like “babe i’m hungry, send me a food pic to motivate me.” 

flexes your cooking to everyone. “yeah i eat like a king because my girlfriend’s better than yours. cope.” 

you pack him little gold-wrapped chocolates with notes like “you’re doing great, sweetie” and he calls them “power pellets.” 

buys you every kitchen gadget known to man. “you need a carbon steel wok, a matcha whisk, and a cream separator for optimal creativity.” 

insists on paying you in forehead kisses. 

once asked you to cook in nothing, but his shirt. you smacked him with a spatula. “worth it.” 

nagi seishiro

he didn’t even know he liked food this much. 

was content with cup noodles and rice balls until you walked into his life and handed him a homemade breakfast sandwich. 

now he wakes up early. like, unprompted. “breakfast ready?” yawns and hugs you from behind. 

you make him cute bento boxes with anime character toothpicks and he shows them off to reo like a proud toddler. 

refuses to go to practice unless he gets his afternoon snacks. 

“don’t feel like walking… can you feed me?” he says while flopping onto the couch. 

once drooled on your apron while hugging you mid-cooking. 

honestly just associates you with the feeling of warmth, comfort, and food-induced naps. you’re his full package. 

gagamaru gin

you made him a triple-decker bento box once and he nearly proposed with his mouth full. 

like genuinely speechless. holds the rice ball like it’s sacred. 

his eyes went huge when he saw you holding a tray of onigiri and the first thing he said was “... is this for ME?” like a sad anime puppy who’s never known kindness. 

eats everything. doesn’t even know what it is. “you made it? then it’s good.” 

gives full, gleeful commentary: “CRUNCHY. SOFT. MYSTERIOUS TEXTURE. FLAVORFUL.” 

sometimes you catch him crouched on the kitchen floor, quietly eating leftover cookies from the cooling rack like a feral forest spirit. 

brings you foraging gifts. like he’ll hold up a weird-shaped mushroom and say “maybe this would taste good in soup?” 

gets so happy when you pack him a lunch he does tiny celebratory squats. 

once cried eating your curry. like real tears. “this tastes like a warm hug. i miss my grandma. you're better than my grandma.” 

calls you “chef boss” and listens to all your hydration reminders like it’s gospel. “you drank water today?” “YES MA’AM.” salute. 

karasu tabito

insufferable menace. eats your food and immediately starts acting up. 

“damn. i think i’m in love. you trying to trap me or something?” 

you made him lunch once and now he fake-swoons every time you hand him a snack: “a meal? for ME?? no one’s ever loved me like this before–” 

you cut his tamagoyaki into little rolls and now he calls you “sugar chef.” 

makes innuendos out of everything. “is that a long cucumber or are you happy to see me?” you throw it at his head. 

eats your cookies then starts dancing in the kitchen while beatboxing. 

always shows up uninvited at dinner time like “yo, i smelled rice.” 

shamelessly flirts while chewing. “you made this for me, huh? didn’t know you wanted to marry me so bad.” 

the only guy who’ll try to feed you back. holds a spoon out like “open up, i’m being romantic. don’t embarrass me.” 

brags about your food to the team, but lies and says he “cooked it together” with you. (you didn’t.) 

yukimiya kenyu

this man is a high-class health nut, so when you started tailoring meals to his fitness and skincare goals, he nearly fainted. 

“you researched low glycemic index carbs for me? you’re incredible.” 

his meals are always plated beautifully. macro-balanced, nutrient-rich, aesthetically perfect. 

“this smoothie has spinach, collagen, and flaxseed? i’m glowing. you’re a genius.” 

he clutches your protein muffins like they’re designer handbags. “limited edition.” 

brings your cooking to photo shoots and eats it delicately with his pinky up. 

absolutely adores your little notes. once framed one that said “don’t forget to take your vitamins 💊💗” and called it his emotional support message. 

if you forget to hydrate, he flips out. “how are you feeding everyone but forgetting to feed yourself? unacceptable.” 

loves afternoon tea. has a favorite cup and matching saucer. you made him a rose shortbread once and he cried a little. 

once said, dead serious, “you’re my soul’s dietician.” 

barou shoei

impossible to please. the first time you offered him food, he said “no thanks.” 

then he saw it was a perfectly balanced, protein-packed, visually intimidating dish with fire-roasted beef and charred veggies. 

stared for three seconds. “… give me that.” 

now refuses to eat anything except your food. legit threw out a vending machine protein bar because “it’s peasant trash.” 

insults other people’s cooking like a food snob. “her rice is fluffier. you think this is edible? don’t disrespect my girl like that.” 

every time you hand him a snack, he growls “this better be nutritious,” but then scarfs it like a starving lion. 

gets possessive. you handed kunigami an energy bar once and he was like “she’s not yours. make your own damn snacks.” 

meal preps with you but only does the cutting. his cutting board is a war zone. 

pouts if you don’t pack him extra. “i eat more than this. what am i, a bird?” 

says things like “don’t make soft food. real champions chew.” 

kunigami rensuke (pre-WC) 

painfully bashful about it. you pack him a bento and he blushes like crazy the whole day. 

tried to return the favor by making you eggs. he burned them. he cried. 

absolutely worships your cooking, but tries not to be “too demanding.” 

still beams every time you hand him food like a golden retriever being given a treat. 

tries to flex like “yeah, i eat clean now. no big deal.” but then he snuggles the bento box when no one’s looking. 

brings extra tupperware because he knows you’ll “accidentally” make too much. 

gets flustered if you kiss his cheek while holding a spatula. “babe… i’m trying to be serious about protein right now…” 

won’t let anyone touch the food you made for him. growls at shidou. “go away. this is mine.” 

praises you endlessly after every meal. “you’re amazing. you should open a restaurant. i’ll fund it. i’ll be your bodyguard. no one touches the food but me.” 

secretly started a recipe notebook called “stuff she makes that i wanna learn.” never shows you. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[writer-freak]

Can I request headcanons for 5 Saja Boys accidentally confessing to his gn crush please?

A/n: I actually love this concept so much I think I will also make a smau with this concept but first I did this and I have to say I really love what I wrote <3

Abby

It happens when you’re teasing him for once. You walk into the room wearing his hoodie, and Abby goes completely still.

He blinks once, twice, then mutters, “You’re trying to kill me, huh?”

You smirk, “What, this old thing?” and tug the hoodie a little more off your shoulder just to mess with him.

He groans dramatically and flops onto the couch while dragging his hand across his face. “That’s not fair. I’m weak for you, you know that.”

There’s a pause. You both freeze.

You: “…Weak for me?”

Abby: eyes wide, cheeks starting to pink “I mean-not like-ugh. Okay. Yes. Obviously in that way but-”

He hides his face in a throw pillow, muffled voice saying something like: “You’re hot, you’re funny, you take care of me when I don't feel well, I love being around you-of course I’m weak for you.”

Then slowly peeks one eye out like: “…Was that a bad time to say all that?”

You’re already climbing onto the couch to tackle him with kisses, and he just lets out this giddy little laugh and wraps his arms around you tight.

“Okay, so we’re in love now. Cool. Just making sure.”

Baby

He’s annoying you again, of course. You’re sitting on the floor trying to focus, and he’s behind you poking your back every three seconds.

“You ignoring me? That’s so mean. You’re supposed to be obsessed with me.”

You finally snap, turn around and glare: “Why do you even care about that, you annoying little gremlin-”

He leans forward and just grins, resting his chin on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Because I love you, duh. What else would I be doing here every day, ruining your peace?”

…silence.

His own words hit him mid-sentence, and you feel him stiffen behind you.

“Wait. Wait. Did I just say that out loud?”

You turn slowly, eyes wide, and he’s already trying to backpedal.

“No-no-no, I meant love you like-like a friend. Or like, love as a concept you know-”

You’re laughing so hard now he has to shove a throw pillow in your face to shut you up.

“Ugh, I hate you,” he groans, clearly flustered but also smiling.

“No you don’t,” you grin, throwing the pillow back at him. “You love me.”

“Tch. Whatever. You’re lucky I do.”

Jinu

It’s late. The two of you are curled up on the couch after a long day, the TV playing some mindless show, your head resting on his shoulder.

He thinks you’re asleep. He’s got one arm wrapped around you, thumb stroking your side slowly, absentmindedly.

You shift a little, sighing, and he whispers, more to himself than anything: “God, I love you.”

You freeze.

He freezes.

He goes completely still, then practically jumps like he got electrocuted.

“I-I didn’t mean-wait, no, I did mean it but I didn’t mean to say it yet, I just-fuck.”

He buries his face in both hands. “That was supposed to be a mental monologue, dammit.”

You sit up slowly and look at him, heart pounding.

“You love me?”

He’s so red now. Tugging his hoodie strings down trying to hide the redness on his face

“…Yes?” he says in the tiniest voice.

When you lean in and kiss his cheek, he lets out this soft little laugh of relief and melts into your arms like butter.

“You’re not gonna run?” he murmurs.

“Why would I? I love you too, dummy.”

“Oh thank god,” he exhales, pulling you into the warmest, most grateful hug in the world.

Romance

It happens during a cozy night in- he’s made dinner (of course he has) and lit a few candles. Soft music playing, dim lights, and the two of you curled up on the couch.

You tease him gently, poking at how he always does “the absolute most” even when it’s just a regular weekday.

“This is casual for me,” he says, hand brushing your knee. “You should see what I didn’t do.”

You laugh and lean into his side, stealing a bite from his plate. “You really don’t need to impress me, you know.”

He smiles at you, all soft and fond. “I’m not trying to impress you.”

You raise a brow. “Then what are you trying to do?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Win your heart. But I think I already did.”

…you blink at him, caught off guard.

He pauses mid-bite, eyes going wide as his own words register. “Wait.”

You stare. “Win my heart?”

“Uhm.” He clears his throat, sets his fork down very carefully. “Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” you echo.

“Or, uh… not hypothetically. Depending on your reaction.”

You just smile and reach out to brush his hair from his face. “You have it, you know.”

He lets out this soft, breathless sound like he’s been holding it in forever.

Then: “Oh, thank god. That means I can go ahead with the rooftop candlelight thing next weekend.”

You groan, but he’s already pulling you into his lap with a grin.

“What? I have to celebrate finally saying it out loud.”

Mystery

It happens in the most unassuming moment, the two of you sitting on the floor, folding laundry.

Well… you’re folding. He’s mostly just watching, arms crossed, gaze unreadable, half-lidded eyes tracking your every move.

You toss a hoodie at him, smirking. “Can you at least pretend to help?”

He catches it with one hand, doesn’t even look at it.

Instead, he mumbles, “You look good in my clothes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Trying to flirt your way out of chores?”

He shrugs. “Can’t help it. You always smell like home.”

Your smile falters for a second -not expecting that softness. “...That’s kind of sweet.”

And then, like it’s nothing: “Yeah. You feel like home. That’s why I love you.”

You freeze, mid-fold.

Turn slowly toward him. “…What?”

He blinks. Doesn’t flinch. Just tilts his head and watches you.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he says flatly, then after a pause, “but I’m not taking it back.”

You move toward him slowly, heart doing flips.

He stays still, but you can see the slight twitch of his fingers, like he wants to reach for you, but doesn’t know if he should.

You press your forehead to his, and he exhales shakily, like something inside him just loosened for the first time.

“…Okay,” you whisper, and his hand finally lands on your waist.

He murmurs against your skin, voice low and steady: “You’re mine now. No take-backs.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth, and he kisses the pulse in your throat, like he’s sealing the promise.

Divider by: @uzmacchiato

More Kpop Demon Hunters

[lazysoulwriter]

white tank fever ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: explicit (18+), established relationship, post-party setting, drunk/teasing energy, white tank top worship, praise, begging, a little messy.

The second the door closes, you’re on him.

Your back hits the wall of the hotel room and Pedro groans — deep and messy — as your mouth claims his, all teeth and tongue and lipstick-smeared heat. You’re both buzzed. Not wasted. Just loose — all hands and need and unfiltered hunger.

His chain taps your chin when he leans in deeper, and his hands are already sliding up your thighs, fingertips bold under your dress.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants against your mouth. “You were killing me all night.”

“Me?” you gasp between kisses. “Look at you.”

You shove him back a little, eyes raking over him in the dim hotel light. That fucking tank top — thin, clinging, slightly see-through now with the sweat collecting around his chest and under his arms. His hair is messy, curls damp at the temples. His arms are flushed and veiny, his jaw pink from your last round of kisses.

He looks fucked already. And you haven’t even started.

“Jesus,” you mutter, walking toward him. “You wore that shirt just to ruin me.”

He grins, cocky and breathless. “It worked.”

You push him gently until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He sits, wide-legged, panting.

You straddle him in one smooth motion, and his hands find your ass like muscle memory. His head falls back as you grind down, the friction already making him moan low in his throat.

You lean forward, fingers curling around his necklace, tugging it just enough to make him look at you.

“Do you have any idea how many times I almost dragged you into the bathroom tonight?” you whisper. “You looked so fucking good, Pedro.”

He whimpers. Actually whimpers.

“Baby, please—”

You reach down and palm him over his pants. Hard. He chokes on a sound that’s part laugh, part groan.

“I love how needy you get when you’re tipsy,” you murmur, kissing down his jaw. “All soft and desperate for me.”

“I’m always desperate for you,” he breathes, fingers tightening on your hips.

You kiss his neck, bite a little, suck just enough to leave a mark. His hands slip under your dress, dragging your panties aside, cursing when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh, fuck—look at you,” he groans. “Dripping.”

“For you,” you whisper.

Pedro curses under his breath, then flips you.

You yelp, suddenly flat on your back, legs spread, dress pushed up. He’s on top of you, eyes wild.

“I was trying to be good,” he growls. “I was gonna let you take your time. But you look too fucking pretty when you’re wrecked.”

His hand slides between your legs, fingers sinking in easily. You moan, clutching his shoulder.

“And you get so tight for me,” he whispers. “So warm, so perfect—fuck, I missed this.”

“You had this last night,” you gasp.

“And I want it again. Always.”

His fingers fuck into you with precision — deep, curling, just right. Your hips buck, your breath shatters.

Then he pulls his fingers out, licks them clean, and moans like it’s dessert.

“Pedro—” you whine, arching up to kiss him, desperate.

He rips the tank top off in one clean motion and throws it somewhere behind him. His skin is warm and flushed and glistening, chest rising and falling fast. He looks down at you like he wants to devour you whole.

Then he pushes inside.

And your brain breaks.

You claw at his shoulders, cry out his name, and he shushes you sweetly. “I know, baby. I know. I got you.”

He moves slow at first. Deep. Controlled. Then you kiss him again and bite his lip, and he loses it.

The pace turns brutal. Filthy. Your thighs tremble around his waist, the bed starts to creak, and he buries his face in your neck, whispering mine mine mine like it’s the only word he remembers.

You come with a cry — clenching tight around him, legs locked. Pedro follows with a groan so deep it vibrates against your skin, spilling into you as he grips your hips with shaking hands.

You lay there, both panting, stuck together with sweat and come and lipstick and drunk laughter.

Pedro kisses your collarbone, still catching his breath.

“Baby?” he murmurs, voice scratchy.

“Yeah?”

“That shirt was kind of my favorite.”

You giggle. “I’ll buy you ten more.”

He smirks against your skin. “But will you fuck me in all of them?”

You grin. “Obviously.”

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[inkedtension]

can you pleeease make pick a fight, get a fuck of geto or megumi? i love toji and gojos

Sorry if i'm late!! i've been working on asks! I wrote for both, Geto and Megumi

Thank you @yerimieeze for asking!!!

Pick a fight, get a fuck [Geto Suguru]

“You love being a fucking problem, Suguru.”

Your voice cuts through the air as the door slams shut behind you. You’re already stripping off your jacket, slamming it onto the chair, pacing his room like a caged animal with something to burn.

“Say that again?” he drawls.

“You heard me,” you snap. “You deliberately provoked the host. You escalated the whole fucking thing. Nanami and I spent hours trying to—”

“Oh, here we go again,” he says, like he’s sighing into the world's most boring weather forecast. “Nanami, Nanami, Nanami. You gonna moan his name when I fuck you tonight too?”

Your blood boils.

“You’re insane.”

You shove him hard in the chest.

He barely moves.

You shove him again, this time with both hands, and he grabs your wrists like he’s been waiting for it — like this is exactly where he wanted things to go.

“What’s your problem?” you snap.

“You.”

His voice is calm. Too calm. Fingers wrapped around your wrists, the pads of his thumbs brushing skin like a taunt. His eyes skim over you like he's cataloguing something to ruin. “It’s always you. Mouthy little brat who can’t follow orders. Thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“I am better than everyone else.”

“Not better than me.”

Your laugh is cruel. “Right. That’s why I’m the one getting called for backup when you fuck up.”

His jaw ticks.

That’s how you know you hit the nerve.

His grip tightens, and he walks you backward, slow and deliberate, until your back bumps the wall and there’s nowhere left to go. His body presses into yours like a cage. That low, dangerous thing in his eyes is burning now. Dark, sharp, and hungry.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear. “You’re such a fucking problem.”

“You love problems,” you hiss. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“I like breaking them.”

“What do you want from me?” you snap.

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe a thank you. Maybe for you to stop eye-fucking Nanami in front of me like you’re not mine.”

Your stomach drops.

“Nanami’s my friend.”

“Right,” he says, pushing off the wall. “That why you get all sweet around him? All good little smiles and soft voice and ‘Kentooo~’ like you're not the same brat who threatened to stab me last week?”

“You deserved that.”

“I probably did.”

He’s close now. Not smiling. Voice dropped to something darker.

“But I think,” he says, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear like it’s nothing, “you like picking fights with me because you want to get fucked, right, baby?”

Your mouth parts.

No sound comes out.

He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“You get so mouthy,” he murmurs. “So fucking loud. And every time we fight, you’re soaking through your panties before I even touch you.”

Your hand flies up to shove him, but he catches your wrist and slams you back against the wall.

“Go ahead,” he says, voice low. “Hit me. That what you want? Or do you want me to fuck it out of you?”

And that’s when you realize what this is.

He wants you angry.

He wants your rage, your violence, your pathetic fury — because he likes it when you’re nasty, when you’re clawing at him, when you're baring your teeth and spitting your hate like you’re not already halfway to begging.

“You don’t get to be right all the time,” you bite.

He tilts his head, mocking you with every ounce of stillness in his stupid, perfect body.

You glare at him.

He stares back.

You gasp when his knee slides between your thighs, pinning you there. You can feel him — already hard, already pissed. Or maybe just turned on by how mad you are. Or both. With Suguru, there’s no clean line between the two.

He kisses you like he’s angry. All teeth, no warning. It’s messy, brutal, possessive — and you match him with tongue and bite and growl, fingers fisting in his dark hair and yanking until he groans against your mouth.

“You wanna fight?” he mutters, lips ghosting your jaw. “You want it rough? Filthy little mouth picking fights just so I’ll bend you over again?”

You turn your head to spit out a fuck you — but he catches your jaw and forces you to look at him. His fingers cradle your face like you're precious. Like you're breakable.

“Careful,” he says. “You keep talking to me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

He grabs the hem of your top, yanks it up, and his mouth is there — hot and punishing, sucking marks into your skin like he’s branding you. “Take your pants off.”

“Make me.”

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I will.”

The buttons tear — he doesn't even try to be careful — and within seconds he’s got you turned around, hands pressed to the wall, your spine arching as his hand dips between your legs.

“Wet already?” he says mockingly. “You like getting treated like this, don’t you?”

“Suguru—”

“What?” He grips your chin and forces your head to turn so he can see your expression. “You gonna whine now? After mouthing off all day?”

His fingers slip inside you, just to the knuckle, and he grins when your legs tremble. “Knew it. Little brat's just cockdrunk before I’ve even given it to her.”

You clench around nothing as he pulls away.

He doesn’t wait.

The stretch burns, filthy and sudden. You hear him swear, like he’s losing control despite himself.

“S'tight,” he groans, hips snapping forward. “Fuck, I should’ve done this weeks ago.”

You try to say something smart — maybe something mean — but his hand snakes around your throat and he fucks into you hard, shutting you up.

“You wanted this all week,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit. “Couldn’t even look at me without getting bitchy.”

“You ruined the entire op—”

“Uh-huh. Keep lying.”

You gasp. It’s not graceful. hands scrambling for purchase against his back as he fucks into you like he wants to make a point.

“You wanna bark orders?” he growls. “Still wanna talk shit, princess?”

Your nails dig into his shoulders.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m your asshole.”

He kisses you again, open-mouthed and brutal, one hand on your throat and the other fisted in your hair, keeping you right where he wants you. Where you’ve always belonged.

You cum first — choking on his name like it burns. He follows not long after, hips stuttering, forehead pressed against yours, going on and on even though he's done like it’s the last time he’ll ever be angry and alive at once.

He slows down and comes to a stop, with deep breaths, turning you around. Just pushes his cock inside you with one slow, steady thrust that punches the breath from your lungs. You claw at his shoulders, biting down a moan, and he just grins.

“Still think I ruined the mission?”

You don’t answer.

“Didn’t think so.”

He fucks you slow.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, obscene and perfect and humiliating.

“Louder,” he says, pressing you deeper into the mattress. “Go ahead. Scream at me again, darling.”

You slap his shoulder.

He groans.

“You’re such a little brat,” he pants. “Always picking fights you can’t finish.”

“You’re a dick—”

“And you love it.”

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively — traitorous — as his hips snap forward, deeper, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes your hands tremble.

“Suguru—”

“Say you hate me.”

You open your mouth.

“I hate you—” you gasp, even as your nails dig into his back, even as you arch for more, even as your thighs tighten around him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Hate me harder.”

He holds your waist and ass, thursting up, like you're his to keep — and the angle has your eyes rolling back.

“Letting me ruin you like this,” he groans, “just because I called you useless in front of Nanami?”

“You meant it—!”

“I did,” he says, panting, slamming into you. “And now I’m fucking you stupid. So maybe you really are.”

He’s kissing you again — breathless, hungry — and your moans are swallowed by his mouth like he needs every sound, every syllable, every curse you spit.

You nearly sob as he thrusts again, deeper, grinding into your overstimulated body.

“I’m gonna show off that slap mark tomorrow just to remind you who you really hate.” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

You whimper.

He kisses you again, toungue tracing your teeth.

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid every time you act like he could ever replace me.”

You try to talk back.

But he’s kissing you again.

*

You’re not limping.

You swear you’re not limping.

You’re just… walking carefully. With caution. Like someone who respects gravity and the importance of slow movement. Like someone whose legs weren’t folded over a smug bastard’s shoulders for an hour straight last night while being called everything but innocent.

The hallway’s bright. Too bright.

Your throat’s sore. Your hips ache. And you’re 80% sure Suguru bit you on purpose.

You don’t stop at the mirror by the staff lounge. You know better.

But Gojo doesn’t.

“Damn,” he says, eyeing you like you just crawled out of a sewer. “Rough night?”

You blink.

“No.”

“Uh-huh.” He leans closer, sunglasses pushed up on his head.

You ignore him.

Unfortunately, Nanami walks in next. Quiet. Efficient. Dressed like he doesn’t have the mental energy for any of this.

His eyes flick to your neck.

The fucking hickey-slash-fingertip bruise Suguru left along your jaw like a little signature.

Nanami’s face doesn’t move. Doesn’t twitch.

But he gives you a very slow blink.

And then says, very politely, like it’s weather:

“I assume you survived your... conversation with Geto last night?”

“Wait. Did you guys fuck-sorry-fight again? Because I’m not saying I heard anything—” Gojo says immediately.

“Gojo,” Nanami warns.

“You heard something?” Suguru interrupts, clearly thrilled.

You bury your face in your hands.

“I didn’t,” Gojo says, “but I felt something. Like a disturbance in the force. A spiritual earthquake—”

Nanami stands.

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait, Nanamin, come back—!”

But he’s already gone.

Suguru just leans back, arm sliding behind you on the bench, fingers grazing your shoulder like he owns you.

Gojo looks between you two.

“...Wait a second,” he says. “Is that a slap mark on your face?”

Suguru turns his head proudly, presenting his cheek like a trophy.

“Oh my god.”

“She hit me,” Suguru says, smug as hell.

“And you’re bragging about it? You are my friend”

“I came twice.”

You kick him under the table.

“Was it really that good?” you mutter.

Suguru just leans down, mouth at your ear, voice low and hungry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I live to make you hate me in bed.”

...

Pick a fight, get a fuck [Megumi Fushiguro]

Nobody knew Megumi could be this mean—not until you showed up.

You’re the new blood, all talent and mouth, and your very presence grates under his skin in a way no one else manages to. Not even Nobara, and she’s literally hit him with a chair before.

Yuji bonded over old movies. Nobara shared hair products. Even Panda somehow liked you more than usual.

And Megumi? He said nothing.

Not until your third day when he snapped, deadpan and cold: “Maybe if you trained as much as you talked, you’d be useful.”

You blinked. “Maybe if you talked a little more, you’d have friends.”

He walked off. You smiled.

And that was the beginning.

The fighting is tradition. Petty insults. Silent battles during missions. Glaring contests over breakfast. And somehow—you’re always in the same damn room.

Until one day, you aren’t.

Because Gojo starts making sure you’re separated during assignments. Because Yuji looks nervous every time you two make eye contact. Because Shoko smirks the way only she can, dragging on her cigarette like she knows everything.

You don’t get it. Megumi doesn’t either.

He never laughs at your jokes. Never gives you the grace of a smirk. Just narrow eyes, clenched jaw, and those clipped little comments that scream: I think about you too often and I hate it.

Until tonight.

“He sent you?” “He’s out with Shoko-sensei.” “Of course. You want tea or are you too bitter already?”

Nobara notices the tension but reads it all wrong. She slaps Megumi’s arm before the mission and says, “Be nice to her for once, would you? You act like she murdered your cat.”

You roll your eyes, cocking your hip. “Don’t worry, I’m used to him drooling and snarling at the same time.”

Megumi mutters something under his breath. Yuji just nervously laughs.

You're assigned together.

A special-grade curse in a secluded town. An inn at the edge of nowhere. Only one room after mission to stay. Megumi says mid-mission.

But first: blood. Screaming. A curse fight that pushes both of you to exhaustion, dripping in sweat and rage. You scream at him to cover the damn east flank, and he snaps back that you’re always too reckless, and it’s half tactical, half personal.

You both kill the curse.

And the second it’s dead, you collapse next to each other, chest heaving, sweat soaking through your uniform.

Your thigh ends up over his. He doesn’t move it.

You’re both panting. Silently.

“…You’re such a fucking control freak,” you mutter, still staring up at the dark sky.

“You nearly got impaled.”

“You should’ve trusted me to handle it.”

He scoffs. You glare.

You both look away.

By the time you’re shown to the one room, Megumi comes late. You don't know where he's gone and the air between you is like static before a lightning strike.

You walk in first. Bed. Big enough. Of course, Gojo Satoru booked it.

It was comfortable and pretty expensive for a single person. But for two...

He follows, slinging his bag onto the floor, still in his sweat-stained uniform, hair damp from the rain. You move to grab a towel.

He just looks at you, for a while and then he opens his mouth.

“Reckless,” he mutters again. “You’re always trying to get the last word in just to prove something.”

“You really don’t know how to shut the fuck up, do you?”

Your words are sharp, low, spit like venom as you shove him again, this time hard enough that he stumbles back into the wall beside the hotel bed. He stares at you like he’s looking at something dangerous—something alive and electric and impossible to ignore.

You stand firm, chest rising and falling, breath ragged. “You don’t know how to talk to someone unless your jaw’s clenched.”

“And you don’t know how to stop pushing until someone snaps.”

You stare at him. He’s breathing harder now. You see the twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides. He’s vibrating with something. Not rage. Not quite.

Instinct.

You tilt your head. “Then snap.”

He’s on you before the words finish.

Mouth crashing into yours, hands grabbing at your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The kiss is rough, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for space. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, and in return, he drags you back toward the bed and throws you down on it.

You gasp, body bouncing once, and Megumi is already crawling on top of you. His fingers are in your shirt, yanking it up. He doesn’t bother unbuttoning it—just tears it open, sending buttons flying across the room.

“Fuck, Megumi—”

“You wanted this,” he growls, voice low and ragged, as he pushes your bra up to expose your chest. He dips down immediately, mouth hot and hungry, licking and sucking over one nipple as his hand tweaks the other. You arch beneath him, one hand in his hair, the other clawing at his shirt to pull it off.

“I knew you wanted this,” he mutters between kisses, trailing down your stomach now. “Always mouthing off. Acting like you don’t notice how fucking hard I get when we fight.”

You’re moaning now, biting your lip as he reaches your waistband and rips your pants open, dragging them down with your underwear in one swift pull. The cold air hits your soaked cunt, and he stares.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he breathes, voice full of disbelief. “All this for me?”

Megumi moves fast, settling between your thighs. He spits onto your pussy, spreads it with two fingers, and then dives in—his tongue hot and firm as it licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You gasp, eyes rolling, one leg jerking over his shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck, Megumi—”

He hums against your clit, licking harder. When you reach down to grab his hair, he pins both your wrists to the mattress with one hand and keeps going, eyes locked on you like he’s daring you to look away.

You cum like that—helpless, pinned, his mouth ruining you.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet and his eyes are wild.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he says. It’s not a question.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, fucking please.”

Megumi unzips his pants, pulls himself out—long, thick, flushed red at the tip. He strokes himself once, staring down at you with eyes that border on unhinged. Then he lines up.

And slams in.

Your mouth falls open—no sound, just shock.

He doesn’t let you adjust. Just pounds into you, rough and fast, fucking you into the mattress, hips snapping, hand gripping your thigh tight enough to bruise.

“This what you wanted?” he grunts. “Wanted me to lose it? Wanted me to make you scream my name?”

You moan—loud, high-pitched—as he hits that spot inside you that makes your whole body jolt. “Yes, Megumi, fuck—right there—”

He’s groaning now, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping onto your chest.

“Feel so fucking good,” he rasps. “Been thinking about this for months—jerking off after missions—imagining your tight little pussy stretched around me—”

You clench around him at that.

“F-fuck—gonna make me cum again—”

“Do it,” he growls. “Cum on my cock.”

You moan his name as you cum again, body arching, legs trembling around his waist. He keeps going through it, dragging it out until you’re gasping, too sensitive, clawing at his back.

He cums with a deep, almost shattered groan, thrusting deep one final time, holding there, pulsing inside you.

Both panting, drenched in sweat, still tangled together.

You don’t know how long you lie there.

His weight is still draped over you, his face buried in your neck, and your legs remain loosely tangled around his waist. Both of you are breathing hard, flushed, coated in sweat and the mess he left inside you.

And yet—he’s still holding you like he’s afraid to let go.

“…Don’t move yet,” he mumbles into your collarbone, voice hoarse. “Just… stay like this.”

You do.

You’re still catching your breath when his hand comes up, thumb brushing your cheek. It’s a touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.

He pulls back enough to look at you. His hair is sticking to his forehead, pupils blown wide. You expect him to tease, to go quiet again, to push that damn wall up—

But instead, he kisses you.

Soft. Lingering. Like he’s trying to speak through your lips.

“I didn’t think this would ever happen,” he breathes against your mouth. “I told myself I hated you so I wouldn’t fuck this up.”

Your heart stutters. “You think you’ve fucked it up?”

He blinks. “Didn’t I?”

You shake your head and pull him back down. He falls with you, lips finding your jaw, your throat, your shoulder. His kisses are everywhere now—open-mouthed, slow, messy with affection.

His fingers slide down your stomach, easing between your thighs. You twitch under his touch.

“You’re still so wet,” he whispers, sounding almost reverent. “Like your body doesn’t want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He groans—soft, breathy—and shifts to hover above you again. His cock is still hard, already leaking against your thigh.

You glance down. “Still ready?”

“I’ve never been like this before,” he admits, flushed. “It’s like I can’t get enough of you.”

He enters slower this time.

Your eyes lock.

He sinks in inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him, still sensitive. The stretch is intense, but you’re soaked and relaxed, and he’s murmuring sweet nothings into your skin as he pushes deeper.

“So fucking good,” he breathes. “So warm. So perfect. Fuck.”

His hips roll forward. A rhythm builds—not fast, not rough—just steady, deep, with his chest flush to yours and his lips never far.

He kisses you between every thrust.

Your mouth. Your throat. Your breast. Your forehead.

“You drive me insane,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. “I think about you all the time.”

Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. “Then say it.”

His next thrust goes deep and slow. “I want you.”

Another. “I need you.”

Another. “I love you.”

You gasp.

“I don’t know when it started,” he murmurs, voice low and frantic now. “I just… one day I looked at you, and I couldn’t stop. You made me feel fucking everything.”

You bite his shoulder, overwhelmed. He groans and pumps into you deeper, grinding in tight circles.

“You ruined me,” he says.

Your orgasm rises slow and thick—like a tide swelling under the moon—and when it hits, your whole body clenches around him. Your moan breaks in your throat.

He follows seconds after, whimpering—whimpering—into your neck as he spills inside you again.

This time, he doesn’t pull out. Just collapses on top of you, kissing your shoulder like he’s trying to ground himself.

You both lie there. Quiet. Tangled. Loved.

Ten minutes later, you’re in the shower.

He pulls you in with him, arms wrapping around your waist. The water is warm, steam curling around your bodies. He presses your back to the tile and drops to his knees without a word.

You gasp when his mouth finds your inner thigh.

“Megumi—what—”

“I need to taste you again,” he says. “Let me?”

You nod.

His tongue slides up your slit slowly—too slowly—and your head drops back as his fingers spread you open.

“You taste like me,” he groans. “Fuck, this is driving me crazy.”

His tongue is worship. Every time he sucks your clit just right and doesn’t stop until your knees buckle and you scream his name.

He stands before your body fully recovers, pressing you to the wall.

Then he’s inside you again—hot, needy, desperate.

His thrusts are erratic, deeper now, wetter from the stream of water soaking your bodies. He kisses you while fucking into you hard, then gently, then rough again—like he can’t choose how he wants you.

Because he wants everything.

You cum again, full body shaking.

He finishes inside you for the third time, mouth pressed to yours, whimpering into your throat.

“Mine,” he whispers. “You’re mine now.”

You're both barely dry, lounging in your towels—your robe, his low-slung towel—when the knock comes.

You open the door.

Hotel manager. she had a polite smile.

“Apologies. I was checking if you know where Mr. Fushiguro is. He hasn’t been in his room, I'm sure I showed him his way a few hours ago, and Mr. Gojo asked to make sure you both ate dinner.”

[helioooss]

ii. true love waits

synopsis: after a car crash leaves sophia with no memory of the past three years, y/n wakes to a wife who no longer remembers their life together. now, y/n must decide if she can live through falling in love with sophia again — this time, without knowing if she ever will.

warnings: major car accident scene, helios angst, swearing, violent scenes, read at your own risk ⚠️

wc: 30k+

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

how long could you really go out of your way for love?

this was what you asked yourself the moment the bus doors hissed shut behind you, fingers stiff from the cold as they tightened around your coat.

the cane tapped dully against the curb as you crossed the quiet street. the recording studio’s signage had faded a little since the accident, its glass door streaked from yesterday’s rain. you fished out your key, let yourself in, and were immediately met with the faint scent of stale coffee and vanilla diffusers: yunjin’s doing.

the place looked tired.

giselle was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a laptop on one knee and a tablet balanced in her other hand, she didn’t look up.

yunjin was passed out on the couch with a foam sound panel shoved under her head like a pillow, her mouth slightly open. her hoodie was inside out.

“hey,” you mumbled softly, trying not to scare either of them.

the japanese girl finally turned her head, hair pinned up messily with a pencil and her under-eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep. “y/n, don’t take this the wrong way, but wow, you look like shit.”

you offered a small wave, half-smile. “thanks, so do you…and sorry, i came as soon as i could. with expensive coffee.”

“bless you,” she muttered, giving your cheek a kiss before taking the cup off your hand. “missed you, new boss.”

“you’re forgiven,” yunjin called from her spot on the couch, that was when you noticed the three mugs of tea abandoned nearby.

you exhaled a small laugh. “as if you could stand being angry with me for too long.”

“how’s the leg?”

“hurts.”

“and how’s sophia?”

you paused. “i don’t know…still…stranger sophia.”

they didn’t press. you studied the place — the scuffed walls, the cords tangled in the corners and the half-filled whiteboard with dates already overdue. it was weird how sophia’s handwriting was still there: looping and half-cursive, written in pink marker. you used to tease her for colour-coding everything like a manic uni student.

she used to hit you and laugh - everything felt and looked like before. but nothing was.

when you met her, giselle and yunjin were already part of the picture like well-worn chords in a song she had been playing long before you ever heard it. they loved music without thinking. it was in the way yunjin tapped her nails against tabletops like she was testing drum beats and how giselle could hear a harmony before anyone else realised there was a song. it was messy and raw and beautiful.

you sat down slowly at the edge of a swivelling chair, your leg already aching from the trip. “how long have you two been here?”

giselle snorted. “define been here. because spiritually, i left around monday.”

yunjin groaned, dragging an arm over her eyes. “what year is it?”

you smiled faintly. “still the same one you launched this place into oblivion.”

giselle didn’t laugh. “this isn’t sustainable, y/n. i know you’re trying and it’s fucking hard…but we’re also drowning.”

your smile dropped. “i know, i’m so sorry —“

“we can’t keep doing everything,” she continued, dropping the tablet onto the rug with a thud. “i’m handling the mixing schedule, the licensing and all sorts of admin. yunjin’s editing vocals at 2am and sorting out invoices — we haven’t even properly sorted the last release.”

yunjin chimed in. “and that’s with us pulling twelve-hour days. i haven’t opened my fridge in a week, i don’t even remember what my room looks like.”

she plopped onto the floor with her legs crossed, shoulders slumped. she looked dead tired; dark circles bruised under her eyes. giselle grabbed a whiteboard and wiped it half-heartedly, revealing a mess of crossed-out deadlines and incomprehensible scribbles underneath.

“without sophia,” yunjin continued. “we’re flying blind. she used to tweak everything, guide the sound, rein us in. and trigger warning: it’s like trying to drive a car without a steering wheel.”

you sat quietly, taking it all in. they weren’t angry, you understood they were simply exhausted and noticeably thin from overworking and missing someone who used to bring this place to life.

“we love her,” giselle added, softer now. “but i don’t think she’s coming back anytime soon…not to this version of her life.”

the warmth of old ambition still lingered in the scratched floorboards and the framed photos on the wall. you spotted one of you and sophia near the back corner: she was sitting on the mixing desk, you between her legs, both laughing at something you couldn’t remember now and someone had drawn devil horns on her with a red marker.

you cleared your throat. “what can i do?”

they both blinked, not really knowing where to begin.

“i mean it,” you continued. “i know i’m not her. i know nothing about…music, or sound engineering, or anything technical. but i can help with the admin; logistics, accounting — whatever you two need.”

they both looked at each other like they were having a secret conversation in their heads. it didn’t take long because they desperately needed your help.

“you sure?” yunjin asked hesitantly. “we would hate to take you from sophia during all of this but we also can’t afford another hire —“

“i don’t want the studio to fall apart,” you cut her off firmly. “i know how much it meant to her.”

there was a long pause before giselle exhaled in relief. “you’re a fucking legend.”

“even if you can’t hold a tune,” yunjin joked, eyes crinkling.

you smiled, weakly. “i won’t even try.”

the day passed slowly and you spent most of it combing through invoices, emailing collaborators who hadn’t been paid, creating a new system for file organisation and trying to make sense of project timelines (you still couldn’t). giselle and yunjin moved in and out of meetings, occasionally calling out for help or giving you passwords with long-winded backstories.

by the end of the day, the sky had dimmed to a navy blue outside the studio windows. you had only just caught up with the basics; there was still more work to do tomorrow.

when they were both winding down, giselle half-asleep on her laptop and yunjin curled up in the corner with noise-cancelling headphones, you sat at the reception desk in silence.

your body ached, but mostly, it was your heart that hurt because you never wanted to run this studio.

it was sophia’s dream; this thing she built with her own hands, with vision and full commitment. it had been hers long before it ever became a shared future.

you could already feel it — the time it would steal from your own work; the pieces you wouldn’t finish: the commissions you’d have to turn down.

it scared you; not just because art had been the one thing keeping you steady, but because giving it up meant giving up the last piece of yourself.

but now here you were, tending to the remnants of a dream that didn’t belong to you because it was the last thing left of the life you built together.

and you’d do anything for her.

love, you learned, wasn’t always gentle. it wasn’t always patient, either. sometimes it was unspectacular in its sacrifice and right now, it looked like picking up the pieces of someone’s dream because they couldn’t hold it themselves yet.

perhaps, the answer to your question was this: you were willing to give up a piece of yourself for sophia — that was how long you’d go out of your way for love.

“hey,” giselle pulled you out of your thoughts, breaking the quiet as she came over, eyes glassy with fatigue. “thanks for today, i really mean it.”

yunjin joined her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “and sorry for being dicks. we’re just…really swagged out of our swag points right now.”

“you weren’t,” you chuckled. “you’re just tired, i think we all are.”

they both hugged you properly then, tight and sincere and lingered for a second too long because everyone was carrying more than they’d like to admit.

“i never wanted to run this place,” you said aloud, when they let go. “this was her dream. not mine.”

they both paused, waiting for you to say more.

“but it’s what’s left of the life we built. and if i have to choose between losing myself or losing what little of sophia i have left…then i’d rather do this. even if it means letting go of everything else.”

silence followed. this place had held her voice in its walls. it still did, you were certain of it.

being an artist, you knew what it meant to preserve something; to hold form where time wanted to decay. but clay cracked and glazes chipped - even your best pieces eventually faded in colour.

this space, her studio, it was a different story.

it was the only thing she left behind intact, untouched by the forgetting. it held versions of her that no longer existed: late nights, unfinished demos, laughter caught between takes, the pink guitar pick she lost down the back of the sofa and never found.

what if, god, what if her memories did come back one day? what if, by some miracle, she blinked and it all returned and the first thing she asked for was here?

you couldn’t stomach the thought of telling her it was gone. that you had let it go because it hurt too much to keep waiting; folded up her legacy and shelved it in favour of your own. it was proof that she had been — no, had loved, created something worth remembering.

“you’re a better wife than i’d be,” yunjin scoffed, rubbing her temple. “i’d burn it down out of spite.”

you managed a smile. “give me a week…i might get there.”

“come on,” giselle tapped your shoulder. “i’ll drive you home because i need to get out of this building before i merge into the drywall.”

yunjin gave your hand a squeeze as you sent her a smile, gathering your bag and notebook. you paused once, at the door, looking back at the studio…at the light filtering through the cracked blinds and the photo of you and sophia still pinned to the wall.

you turned away before it could do more damage. you had work to do tomorrow.

the japanese girl’s car was a mess in the form of a suzuki swift: half-empty energy drinks rolled in the back seat, a hoodie crumpled beneath your feet and the air freshener hanging from the mirror was definitely expired.

“i’m a tortured artist, y/n, you’re not allowed to judge me.”

all you could do was shrug; you had seen worse states.

she had the windows cracked open slightly, letting the breeze in as the hum of the radio filled the silence between you both. neither of you talked much at first — too tired and emotionally wrung out from the day.

but halfway through the drive, she glanced at you, one hand loose on the wheel. “so…” she began casually. “what’s it like being with nepo baby sophia?”

the streetlights blurred against the glass as you kept your eyes steady.

“it’s like living with a stranger; a really polite stranger who makes breakfast and folds the laundry but doesn’t…know me. or love me. or feel comfortable around me.”

giselle’s mouth twitched, sympathetic.

“we eat meals together,” you continued, voice quiet. “we talk, but i don’t think i’ve made real progress breaking through. most nights i sleep on the couch and i don’t think she even notices anymore.”

she made a noise under her breath. “shit.”

you gave a tired smile. “it’s not her fault.”

“maybe not, but it’s still pretty fucking brutal for the person left to remember it all.”

you didn’t respond — the ache in your chest was enough of an answer.

she turned onto your street. “you should ask her out.”

you looked at her this time. “what?”

“like, properly. a date. maybe remind her what it felt like — have you not done that?”

you laughed, short and dry. “yeah, and where would i take her? down memory lane?”

“you’re such a dick,” she laughed at that, shaking her head at you. “actually, yeah. remember that thai place? the one down the road from the studio? the one she dragged us all to for a whole month straight?”

you did remember - they knew her name there. always gave her extra tamarind sauce. sophia once cried (on her period) over a spicy papaya salad and called it a religious experience.

you stared at giselle, eyes narrowing.

“look,” she kept going, driving slower. “i’m not saying it’ll magically fix everything, but maybe it’s not about making her remember. maybe it’s all about helping her feel something new with you now - familiar to you, but new to her.”

the idea stuck to your ribs like something warm. it hurt, a little, but it also lit something.

she pulled up to your house and parked. “text me when you’re inside safe. or like, limp your cane against the door so i know you didn’t collapse.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled. “thanks for the lift.”

“we’re a team now,” she shrugged. “god help us all.”

cane first, you climbed out carefully, the cold hitting your face immediately. by the time you reached the door, your whole body felt like it had been stitched together with string. you were ready to collapse, turning around to wave at giselle - she nodded before driving off.

the second you stepped inside, you stopped in your tracks.

the lights were warm and the table was set. two bowls of steaming sinigang sat waiting, the scent of tamarind and garlic thick in the air — moon river was playing in the background. your stomach flipped, not just from hunger.

“hi,” sophia looked up from the stove. “you’re finally home.”

you nodded, shrugging off your jacket. “you made dinner?”

“of course,” she grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “you said your joints hurt, right? it’s good for that. it’s got ginger and bok choy and — well, everything comforting.”

you stared at her for a second too long, swallowing around something that didn’t have a name. “it smells incredible.”

“you want rice with it?”

“always.”

she smiled and plated it for you both. you sat down at the table, watching her for a beat too long. her hair was loose and there was a small smudge of broth on her cheek.

she looked like home — but she wasn’t yours…not right now.

“how was the studio?” she asked gently, setting your spoon beside the bowl.

you sighed, dragging yourself onto the stool at the counter. “full on. giselle and yunjin are drowning. they’ve been sleeping there half the week, so i stepped in to help with admin — it’s a lot.”

sophia’s hands paused on the ladle. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head reassuringly. “it’s okay! they needed someone. and i —” you hesitated for a moment. “i didn’t want to see it fall apart, not after everything you built.”

her eyes softened, a guilt you knew well behind them. “i never meant to just drop it.”

“it’s honestly okay,” you smiled. and you meant it, even though it wasn’t. “how was your day?”

her expression brightened. “megan took me out for lunch. said she owed me one since she missed the last hangout.”

“yeah?”

“we had vietnamese, then walked around the markets near her apartment. it was really nice.”

you nodded, chewing slowly. it was delicious, but the thought of asking her out hit you. then, heart pounding louder than it had any right to, you stopped.

she looked up. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you said quickly. “yeah, of course. i love it. the sinigang. it’s — perfect.”

her brow furrowed. “i meant — are you okay?”

you set the spoon down, ears hot and all. it was stupid and you knew it was going to come out all wrong, but it was the only thing you could think about.

“speaking of…dates,” you began, voice cracking a little. “i was talking to — no, i was wondering if… maybe this weekend…you’d want to go on one.”

sophia tilted her head. “a date?”

“with me,” you clarified quickly. “like a…proper one. not just a supermarket one. i mean — like we used to. when you wanted to impress me - which you did, umm, impress me. you still do.”

she laughed then; that same warm laugh that used to make your entire day. “are you asking me out?”

you looked down, cheeks warm. “yes.”

she didn’t answer right away. you looked up, terrified of the silence. but she was smiling, soft around the eyes. “okay.”

“okay?”

“yeah,” she confirmed, nodding. “i’d love that.”

you didn’t realise you had been holding your breath until it came out in one long, trembling sigh. and sophia laughed again, you were so sure the sound made the entire house feel warmer.

“cool,” you nodded, trying to sound nonchalant. “cool. cool. cool.”

“you’re so weird,” she said fondly.

“you married me.”

“i don’t remember that,” she teased.

the night was only beginning to settle in outside. you sat there, beside her, your knees almost touching under the counter. and for the first time in weeks, the space between you felt like something was alive again. just a maybe.

still a beginning.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the bell chimed as you pushed open the door to king & i, that familiar waft of lemongrass and roasted peanuts curling warmly around your face. your hand hovered just above sophia’s lower back as she walked in first, hesitant but curious. you weren’t touching her, you didn’t dare, but the instinct was still there.

she was taking the space in, head tilted slightly like she was trying to place the memory in her head, but of course she couldn’t.

everything was the same inside; a little too cramped in the corners, tables pressed close together like secrets. the same faded red cushions, golden framed portraits of bangkok temples and the photo of the king of thailand hung crooked above the counter.

the woman at the counter looked up, recognition blooming immediately. “ay,” she gasped, grinning wide. “the beautiful couple returns.”

sophia looked surprised too, but the older woman behind the counter — nan, you remembered her name, was already bustling out to greet you both. she held her arms wide, grinning. “long time! i always say, where is my favourite lovebirds? did they break up? oh no!”

her face turned a shade of red, clearly unsure how to respond.

you smiled, heart aching and full all at once. “hi nam, we’ve been…away. on holidays.”

“well,” nan grinned, patting sophia’s arm. “you come back just in time. good table is free, window is open on the same spot. papaya salad on the house today.”

you chuckled. “thanks nan, you’re the best.”

“they remember us?” she said softly once the older lady walked off. “and we have a favourite spot?”

“you used to tip them way too much,” you murmured. “and we always over-ordered.”

sophia laughed. “sounds like me.”

pulling your chair, you sat across from her. the table was small; your knees almost touching. she leaned forward, elbows on the edge.

“we used to come here every sunday,” you began. “when you found the place for the first time, i was so worried; you said you were only grabbing us lunch but it took you so long to come back, hours maybe, turned out the food was so good you ended up forgetting about us.”

“sounds like me again!”

everything was soft and warm and familiar - you almost couldn’t believe you were here with her again.

when the waitress came, sophia handed her the menu without even opening it. “surprise me,” she told you. “you order.”

you raised a brow. “dangerous choice.”

“i like danger.”

you ordered everything she loved: panang curry, tom yum soup, the khao soi she always called her ‘death row meal’, and of course, mango sticky rice for dessert. the waitress smiled knowingly as she scribbled it down, as though she has taken this same order from you a hundred times before.

sophia raised an eyebrow. “you remember all that?”

“you made it hard to forget. you were very, very extremely passionate about your food orders.”

“was i?”

you nodded. “specially when i got something wrong.”

she laughed, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. “well, that tracks,” her cheeks coloured slightly and she busied herself adjusting her cutlery. as you waited for the food, she propped her elbow on the table and asked, “so…how did we meet?”

in your head, the story was unfolding on a projector. and you found yourself smiling at the memory.

“don’t make something up,” she warned, like she knew you’d try and make it nicer. “i want the truth.”

“you sure?”

“yes.”

you ran a hand down your thigh, grounding yourself. “you signed up for my first ever pottery class.”

her eyes widened. “i took a pottery class? me?”

“no,” you shook your head, running your fingers through your hair. “you, megan and lara gatecrashed my pottery class.”

she threw her head back, laughing. god, it was the most beautiful sight ever. “now we’re talking.”

“it was my first time running one solo. and you three were so fucking loud that this old lady started getting pissy with me. like she directed her anger towards me, the teacher, instead of you!”

she giggled, full and unfiltered. “what did i do?”

“you kept laughing. at everything: the clay, at lara. you knocked over your water cup. and your laugh, don’t get me started,” you stopped, eyeing her. “was so obnoxious and scary.”

she gasped, offended. “it was not!”

you grinned. “well, it was that day - take it from someone hearing it for the first time ever.”

“rude!” she reached over and slapped your arm lightly.

“but,” you added, heart skipping a beat. “i also thought you were…beautiful. really beautiful.”

you looked away, cheeks burning. “i remember thinking, ‘fuck, this girl with the bangs is gonna ruin me.’”

she went quiet for a second. then, softly: “did i?”

you nodded, trying not to let your voice crack. “yeah, i wouldn’t lie about that.”

she smiled, light and open. “why didn’t you tell me that part first?”

“needed to humble you.”

“well, too late,” she said, brushing her hair back. “now i know i was a pottery class menace and the hot one.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was hard to ignore.

when the food came, you watched her closely. she leaned over her bowl of khao soi the exact same way she always did, chopsticks in one hand, spoon in the other. the first bite was immediate.

“holy shit,” she muttered, eyes wide. “this is so good.”

you smiled to yourself. “you used to say it was better than sex.”

she looked up, startled. “you’re lying.”

“you said it every time we came here.”

“that’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“you also called the mango sticky rice your ‘true soulmate.’”

she took a dramatic bite of it anyway, completely unfazed. “well, i wasn’t wrong.”

she devoured everything, scraping the plate clean. you hadn’t realised how badly you missed just watching her eat with joy and no hesitation…like she was allowed to be happy again.

the night flowed into something easy after that. you talked about little things: yunjin and giselle, her last pilates class with daniela, how she still hated coriander. sophia leaned into the conversation without hesitation and for a moment, you could almost believe you were just two people who had just met and were falling in love again from scratch.

but under it all, there was also something trembling…something fragile. it was like walking on ice, knowing one wrong move could send it all crashing.

then, just as the bill was placed on the table (she beat you to paying it using her dad’s card), she looked at you with something quieter in her eyes.

“thank you,” she said softly.

you tilted your head. “for what?”

“for being patient with me.”

your throat went tight; she had more to say.

“for giving me space. for not…trying to shove memories down my throat and letting me figure things out at my own pace, for not punishing me for forgetting. i know i can be difficult to deal with right now, but you’ve got the patience of a saint, so thank you.”

you swallowed hard, the lights feeling too bright all of a sudden. “you know, you’re still you.”

“am i?”

“yeah,” you nodded. “just…a version of you i’m still learning to love.”

she stared at you for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to do with that. “thank you for making space for her.”

you blinked fast, couldn’t help it. your hand came up to your mouth, covering the ache in your chest as you fought down the sting in your eyes.

“i’d follow you anywhere,” you whispered.

she didn’t say anything…but she didn’t let go of your gaze; placing her hand on top of yours, rubbing her thumbs gently on your knuckles.

the walk home was quiet. it was dark out, stars bleeding out through the gaps in the clouds. sophia’s hand found yours halfway down the block; no words, just warm fingers lacing through yours like they always had.

you didn’t ask what it meant, just held her hand tighter.

when you stepped inside the apartment after embarrassingly struggling with the keys in front of your wife, a slow kind of warmth wrapped you both in an embrace; settling in your chest and wrapped around your bones. you reached for her coat first, gently brushing her arm as you took it off her shoulders, then yours, hanging them side by side like always.

the silence that followed had its own language by now. you dropped onto the couch with a long exhale, finally off your feet. your leg throbbed dully, that familiar ache crawling up from the knee to your hip, but at least you could breathe.

the restaurant had been lovely, the walk manageable, the night nearly perfect — but your body was reminding you of its limits now.

sophia sat beside you, a little closer than usual. “is it still hurting?”

you nodded, eyes closed. “just sore…nothing new.”

she patted her lap casually. “put it up here, i’ll rub it.”

your eyes fluttered open so fast. “no, don’t —”

but she was already reaching, gently tugging your leg across her thighs. her touch was instinctive, memory outpacing thought as her thumbs began drawing slow, deliberate circles over your calf and thigh, pressing in just right.

she raised an eyebrow at you, fringe a bit out of place and all. “you washed my feet nearly every day at the hospital, but you can’t bare the thought of me rubbing a sore leg?”

“yeah, well,” you bit down on your bottom lip. “i actually have no answer to that.”

she chuckled at that, you stared at her hands, long and elegant, moving over your skin with practiced care. it felt too familiar; dangerous. every stroke tightened your chest, made something small and stupid flutter deep in your belly.

you didn’t say anything, neither did she. the tv was off, the room was quiet and all you could focus on was the heat of her palms and the echo of ‘i’d follow you anywhere’ still ringing in your own ears.

you were scared. god, you were so scared.

because this was the kind of softness you had been aching for — but it had come so suddenly. and if you reached too far for it, if you wanted it too much, it might disappear again.

sophia might vanish into her distance; that unreachable place you had been watching her live in.

“you should stop sleeping on the couch,” she mumbled quietly, voice breaking through your spiral. her tone was light, but there was something else under it - testing.

you turned your head. “where would i go?”

she smiled faintly. “on the bed…next to me.”

your breath hitched, nodding before you could stop yourself. “oh, right…okay.”

she didn’t say anything else, just kept rubbing your leg, gently. her fingers slowed, drifting to a stop as your muscles sighed under her hands. your heart did not.

you couldn’t look at her, so you stared at the black television screen instead, where your reflections sat faintly, side by side — two shadows in an empty room. your mouth was dry and your hands felt so fucking useless in your lap.

there was a sudden shift on the couch; you watched her move carefully, placing one hand on the cushion near your hip for balance, her other hand reached up, brushing lightly beneath your chin, tilting your face toward hers.

your chest clenched; she was close enough to count the freckles beneath her eyes and feel the warmth of her breath against your mouth.

“hi,” she whispered as if it was the first word in a sentence she hadn’t figured out yet.

and before you could respond, before you could even swallow the panic rising up your throat — she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours.

her lips were warm and impossibly soft; memory and longing and the first time you ever kissed her plastered all over it.

just like that.

her lips found yours, slow and warm and unhurried. it was a short kiss, a question more than anything, but your lips rendered unmoving, not ready, too caught in the shock of it.

she pulled back slightly, eyes flicking between yours, but there was no hurt in her expression; just fingers hovering at your jaw, afraid to break the spell completely.

“is this okay?” she asked quietly.

you stared at her, breath caught in your throat.

and then you were somewhere else — two years ago, a quiet night on the balcony of your old apartment, the smell of summer and old records in the air. she kissed you then, too, exactly like this — falling into something she knew she would never crawl out of.

you could barely breathe as you let out a nervous laugh that cracked around the edges. your voice came out softer than you intended. “it’s…more than okay.”

she smiled, something trembling in her lips and kissed you again. this time, you kissed her back.

your hand found the back of her neck, drawing her in deeper, breaths shared and uneven. your fingers gripped her thigh as her weight settled onto you slowly, easing into the space above you without pressing too hard, without making the ache in your leg flare.

then, it slid beneath the hem of her shirt, only just resting against her back and she sighed into your mouth. her hips shifted to align with yours, her hands threading into your hair as she pulled you closer.

everything slowed down. the world narrowed to her breath, her lips, the quiet gasp she gave when you bit her bottom lip gently. it felt like touching something holy. it was just her and you — just the warmth of her mouth against yours, and the quiet sound of something being given back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the pillow smelled like her.

you woke slowly and you weren’t sure if you actually slept at all. for a while, you just lay there, disoriented in that half-state between dream and memory. the sheets were warm around you and your leg didn’t ache the way it usually did.

that same passionfruit scent lingered in the sheets, subtle but unmistakably hers. turning your face into it, you kept your eyes closed as you took a breath in — you didn’t want to ruin it.

then came the shifting of weight beside you, warmth pulling away just slightly; the rustle of someone sitting up. adjusting to the light, you opened your eyes gently and there she was.

sophia was already awake, knees drawn to her chest and phone in hand. her hair fell around her face in a messy halo. she looked down at something on the screen, thumb scrolling absently, sunlight filtering through the curtains and cutting lines across her collarbone.

she didn’t notice you at first. or maybe she did, but didn’t say anything. you watched her for a few seconds longer, trying to read her body language.

was she…okay?

your heart beat faster in your chest, already spiralling — had you crossed a line last night? did she kiss you because it was convenient, because she was cold or because it was easy?

you stayed quiet, unsure if you were meant to roll over and pretend you hadn’t woken up, but then she set her phone down, shifting slightly to face you.

“good morning,” she muttered, quiet but sure.

you swallowed. “morning.”

for a split second, you had been bracing yourself; waiting for her to pull away, act like last night hadn’t happened. maybe you hadn’t stayed beside her, tucked under the covers, your body warm with something dangerously close to relief — that this was all just a fever dream.

but instead, she smiled. “i think that was the best sleep i’ve had in weeks.”

the corners of your mouth began to form a small smile, slowly pushing yourself upright. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she stretched her arms out with a groan. “i forgot what it felt like to actually rest.”

“bed’s definitely better than the couch, for me,” you mumbled, eyes still on her. “but i’m not dissing the couch in any form —“

she turned her head back to you, grinning. “i told you so.”

you laughed a little. “yeah, yeah, i know.”

there was a pause as you watched the sun hit her face and tried not to memorise it all over again.

“how’s your leg?” she asked, glancing down as if she could see through the blanket.

“no complaints,” you answered quickly. “might be a bit stiff when i stand up, but better than usual.”

it was silent for awhile again, your eyes tracing slowly over her face; the way her fringe fell slightly uneven, the tired but genuine expression on her face. and god — there were so many things to love.

you loved the little scar near her temple, just beneath her hairline: a childhood fall from a mango tree - she told you about it once while brushing her teeth, laughing like it was nothing; you kissed it the first time she let you.

you loved how she looked at you, even now, even after everything. how even in moments when she didn’t remember all of you, something in her gaze still felt familiar as though recognition was there, just buried under all that fog.

you loved her voice; her snoring, which she refused to admit she did. as well as her muttering in her sleep, which always came with a frown.

you loved her — in all the ways she had been and in all the versions of her that were waking up beside you now.

“what?” she whispered eventually, still watching you. her voice was scratchy with sleep…there was no self-consciousness in it, just curiosity.

“nothing,” you shook your head slightly, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “just…you.”

her brow furrowed, but her hand slipped across the sheets and found yours, fingers weaving like it was instinct.

“i wanna make breakfast,” she opened. “for you.”

you couldn’t help but grin. “really?”

“what would you like?”

you leaned back against the headboard, heart aching in a stupid, quiet way. “surprise me.”

“oh, so that’s how it is,” she mumbled, smiling as she threw the blanket off and stood, shirt slipping down one shoulder slightly as she stretched. “i’ll surprise you, alright.”

you watched her leave the room, the sound of cupboards opening already beginning in the kitchen. you forced yourself to exhale slowly, then swung your legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the dull pull in your calf.

your body was still healing. your heart — well, that was another story.

the kettle was hissing faintly by the time you joined her. you moved with familiarity to the pantry, pulling out the coffee beans you knew she liked best; the ones with chocolate and citrus notes. you didn’t even need to ask how she wanted it. oat milk, two sugars and no froth. you always thought that was the most un-sophia preference in the world, but you had made it for her so many times it felt like muscle memory now.

“feel like coffee instead of matcha today?” you called, over the sound of grinding.

“yeah,” she mumbled, head ducked into the fridge. “felt like switching it up.”

then, you strode across the room towards the record shelf, eyes tracing the spines until your fingers hovered over the familiar cover. “what do you feel like listening to?”

“surprise me,” she called out, mimicking your tone from earlier.

your lips twitched. “copycat.”

you placed the needle on cleo sol: soft and golden and slow — and opened the blinds, letting the light spill across the floor. routine settled into the room like it belonged there, and for a second, it almost felt like the life you used to share hadn’t cracked apart.

“i forgot how good this album is,” she yelled, moving about the kitchen. “i used to play this while making sinigang, did i do that when —“

“you did,” you answered before she could finish. “used to dance while stirring the pot.”

“embarrassing.”

“adorable.”

you leaned on the kitchen doorway, mushroom mug in hand, observing her move through a space that once belonged to both of you, as though she never left.

she looked different under the morning sun — more real and less like a dream you were chasing.

“what’re you staring at?” she asked, glancing back. “again, mind you.”

“same answer,” you shrugged plainly. “you.”

sophia turned back to the stove, but you caught the little curve of her smile. she moved slower these days, still in recovery like you, but there was ease to her this morning like she didn’t have to think so hard around you.

it made your chest ache a little.

you wandered to your small studio table in the corner, fingers absently nudging a few scattered sculpting tools into place — hadn’t touched them in days.

across the room, the two of you kept talking about what she was making (garlic rice, ricotta eggs and seasoned tomatoes; ‘my body tells me it’s your favourite combo,’ she said), about how you weren’t allowed to do the dishes today.

your heart twisted at how normal it felt.

and then — a knock at the door.

“babe,” you called out instinctively, already halfway to the door. “are you expecting anyone?”

the word slipped out of habit; your eyes going wide. babe. you hadn’t called her that in weeks.

sophia looked up, completely unfazed but confused for a second. “no,” she replied easily. “but it’s probably the girls. lara said they were gonna drop coffee off.”

you grimaced, too late now.

the knock came again, this time accompanied by muffled voices; bickering.

“on god if you touched my croissant again —“

“lara, you literally brought the croissants—”

“exactly! they’re mine —”

you opened the door and didn’t even get a word in. daniela, lara and manon pushed inside like it was a weekly ritual.

“uhh, okay, good morning,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“define good,” daniela muttered, brushing past you. “define good when you don’t get to eat the croissants you were promised.”

lara scoffed, turning to her. “i literally said you can have it when sophia gets one.”

“just kill me, why don’t you?”

oh, so it was this kind of morning, you thought. they all fought each other like sisters, no matter the time of day. and sophia always used to be the one who could put them in place.

manon immediately sniffed the air, ignoring the fight happening in front of her. “are you cooking?” she paused, making a face. “you’re actually cooking? for y/n?”

the filipina wiped her hands on a tea towel. “uhh, yeah?”

“she’s cooking!” she announced dramatically. “alert the media.”

lara shoved her way to the kitchen with a paper bag in hand. “i brought pastries and coffee. also, i’m stealing those eggs, y/n, that’s a threat and not a question.”

you put your hand up in defeat. “if she’s okay with that.”

“what’s the point of bringing breakfast,” daniela muttered, “if you’re just going to eat hers? you wouldn’t even —“

“mine was for after,” lara made a face at her.

sophia gave them a warning look but didn’t protest. she even nudged lara aside to make more room on the bench, handing her a spatula wordlessly.

“so, she’s different today,” daniela mumbled under her breath to manon, both of them drifting into your studio.

“in a good way,” manon replied, nudging a ceramic bowl with her finger. “she seems softer around you.”

you didn’t know what to say. your hands fidgeted with a nearby towel. this whole shift in sophia — it wasn’t planned. it felt like something delicate you weren’t supposed to acknowledge too loudly in case it broke.

your chest was still tight with confusion, reeling how you woke up this morning unsure what to expect: if she would be warm or distant or something in between.

they didn’t know about last night; the way she crawled into your lap and kissed you like she had never forgotten how. and you thought maybe you finally turned a corner as if you didn’t spend the last month living a room away from her like you were a stranger.

“i don’t mind,” you finally said. “whatever this is. i’ll keep loving her. make her happy until…she doesn’t want it anymore.”

“what wouldn’t i want anymore?”

you turned, startled at the sight of sophia standing in the doorway, hair tucked behind her ears, an eyebrow lifted.

daniela jumped in before you could stammer through it. “the vinyls, she thought you’d want to chuck them out.”

sophia scoffed. “of course i’m keeping them,” she pointed at all of you. “now stop whispering about a hungry lara; breakfast is ready.”

they all migrated to the kitchen like magnets and you were left closing the door behind them with a satisfied sigh and a smile tugging at your lips.

the empty seat next to lara what was you chose, tucking your knee to your chest to ease the stiffness in your leg, but then sophia suddenly appeared behind you.

“lars, move over,” she demanded, nudging the younger girl with her hip. “i wanna sit next to y/n.”

lara smirked. “oh?”

you didn’t say anything, just shifted closer, heart pounding as sophia slid in beside you. before you could all settle in, another knock came, more aggressive this time.

“that’ll be yoonchae and megan, come in!” manon grumbled, shouting toward the door. “they’re gonna be pissed we started without them.”

you winced. “we didn’t start, we just —”

the door flew open, revealing a disheveled megan and a very composed yoonchae. god, it was really that type of morning.

“you couldn’t wait five more minutes?” megan yelled.

“you always eat without us,” yoonchae added indignantly, holding a bottle of orange juice. “maybe if megan didn’t take —“

“babies, shut up,” sophia put her hand up, smiling despite herself. “there’s enough food for all of you and nobody has started.”

the table was crowded: mugs too close together, plates already smeared with jam and crumbs, someone’s fork on the edge of tipping off. conversation rolled over itself like a tide: daniela and manon on an ongoing debate about whether the latter’s obsession with truffle oil was a red flag or just culinary snobbery, yoonchae trying to split a croissant cleanly with her bare hands, lara asking for salt and being ignored. megan, somehow, was still buttering toast like it was a sacred ritual just as she made a snarky comment about your mushroom mug.

“bitch,” you mouthed at her.

sophia sat on your left, knee lightly brushing yours and you could feel the warmth of her arm. she was talking to yoonchae about some old inside joke when she reached for the serving plate and slid another folded egg onto your plate without comment. she adjusted the portion, nudged your fork toward you, then casually returned to the conversation like she hadn’t just sent your heart ricocheting into your stomach.

you were used to hiding your reactions by now.

megan, apparently, wasn’t. she blinked hard once, her mouth slightly open and fork hovering. she looked around. once.

then again, more pointedly. her face read like a full sentence: is anyone else seeing this shit?

no one was. she stared harder, raised both eyebrows, then made deliberate eye contact with lara across the table, silently mouthing: “what is happening.”

she didn’t even look up. “eat your eggs, meiyok.”

megan’s mouth dropped open. she looked around again like surely someone was going to acknowledge this.

you were mid-sentence, chewing, when you caught her expression. “what?”

she blinked, leaned across the table and stage-whispered: “is this new? did i fall into a time skip? did no one think to inform me, their child?”

manon picked a piece of croissant from her plate. “its been like this all morning.”

her jaw dropped, turning to yoonchae across the table. “have you seen this?”

“oh, so now we’re speaking? you told me to shut up in the car,” yoonchae took a long sip of her coffee. “you’re literally the last one to notice.”

“she’s feeding her,” megan hissed.

“not literally,” sophia said calmly from beside you, barely glancing up. “just serving the food i made for her.”

she threw her hands in the air, a piece of toast flipping off her plate in protest. “oh, that’s healthy. that’s normal.”

daniela leaned across the table toward megan, amused. “mei, you’re being dramatic.”

“oh, forgive me,” megan snapped. “i didn’t realise we were just casually doing this again!”

sophia let out a quiet snort, feeling her nudge your knee again under the table. she caught your eye in the chaos and for a split second, she looked like she wanted to say something.

but then she just smiled, soft and secretive and all that before turning back to her plate.

and for the first time since the accident, you let yourself believe she might be choosing you again — even in the smallest, quietest ways. even if she didn’t know it yet.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

for a while, it was good again.

intimacy came quietly between you in the quiet and ordinary; the way sophia started reaching for your hand without thinking, how her kisses in the kitchen didn’t need permission anymore and how she would lean against you at night like you were something solid she could rest on.

she began asking questions, as though she wanted to learn you again — this version of you, scarred and soft-spoken, who still made two cups of coffee every morning even if hers often went cold.

one saturday morning, she wandered into your studio barefoot, a blanket draped over her shoulder and yawning like she hadn’t quite adjusted to the hours you kept now. she leaned against the doorframe and watched you work, arms dusted with clay.

“will you teach me?” she asked, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. “i wanna try.”

you paused, a playful smile etching on your mouth. “you?”

“me,” she confirmed, stepping forward and kissing your cheek like it was the most natural thing. “i’m not good at sitting still, though.”

you wanted to say you never were, but instead you just nodded and made space at the wheel.

weekends began to revolve around it: the mess, the laughter, sophia’s dramatic sighs every time her bowl collapsed in on itself. she was awful at it but she looked beautiful covered in dirt, her hair tied up in that half-careless way that left strands falling into her eyes and mouth stained with strawberries from the cut slices you kept in the fridge.

and sometimes, when she thought you weren’t looking, she would steal a kiss from you. just a quick one - enough to make your hands stop moving for several long seconds but you would get back onto it, the clay spinning slow beneath your fingers and pulling under your touch like it had a mind of its own.

this time, she sat back down opposite you on her own stool, apron crooked with her knees tucked close to the wheel.

you were shaping a vase, or trying to…but your hands weren’t steady; your mind wasn’t here.

“you okay?” she asked, tilting her head. there was dried clay on her cheekbone and a streak of it in her hair and she looked unfairly beautiful like that; undone.

“yeah,” you mumbled, thumb pressing too hard into the spinning shape. it buckled slightly and wobbled.

the space was quiet otherwise, the low hum of the wheel and the occasional shuffle of movement — your foot on the pedal, the stool creaking slightly as you shifted your weight.

sophia leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs, watching the clay rise and fall. “you’re lying.”

your eyes stayed on your hands as they worked, trying not to think of what you were about to say.

“i talked to doctor kim again,” you began quietly.

that made her look up. “the neuro?”

you nodded, focusing on the slip of clay curving beneath your palms. “she said…sometimes memory loss like yours, it doesn’t just come back with time. sometimes it takes a second trauma; another shock; something emotional.”

she frowned.

your hands slowed. “she said, perhaps, and full disclosure; this was a friendly conversation outside of the hospital zone just in cause you sue her - but if something really drastic happened…it might trigger something and force your brain to reach for what’s missing.”

there was a pause.

then her voice, careful because she didn’t know where you were going with this. “okay…?”

you looked up for a second, then back at the wheel. “maybe i should disappear for a bit, that would be enough…if i left with no warning.”

she blinked, her expression folding in real time. and then, without warning, she slapped your arm — gentle, but firm enough that your hands flew up in surprise and the clay on the wheel collapsed into a sad, wet mess.

“hey!” you complained, startled.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” she muttered, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “you’re gonna disappear? are you serious?”

“it was a thought!” you defended yourself, laughing now because she looked so genuinely offended.

then she leaned forward and without hesitation, pressed her finger into the clay, brought it up and smeared it across your cheek, smudging it right below your eye.

“sophia —“

“if you vanish, i’m keeping the apartment,” she objected flatly, smearing another streak down your neck.

you scoffed at her and she grinned.

her teeth flashed, proud of herself and her eyes sparkled in that way they always used to — full of mischief and something else you still couldn’t name.

you wiped your face with the back of your arm, leaving a bigger smear. “that was rude.”

“so is abandoning me.”

“i wasn’t —”

“you were,” she said and her voice softened. “don’t.”

you swallowed, shoulders relaxing, the clay between your fingers forgotten. and she reached out, not with clay this time, but to gently brush your jaw with the edge of her knuckle.

“i may not remember everything,” she continued. “but every time i’m here with you, it feels like i should.”

you couldn’t say anything. so instead, you picked up a handful of wet clay and reached toward her with slow menace.

her eyes widened. “don’t you dare.”

you grinned and smeared it across her nose as she shrieked, trying to push you off.

the wheel spun on beside you, forgotten. but in that moment, all you could feel was her. alive and close and real. and yours…whether she remembered or not.

on the day sophia came to the studio for the first time two weeks later, it had been quiet all morning — no scheduled sessions and no background chatter of yunjin cursing at static feedback.

you were helping giselle set up the monitors, when the door opened with its usual squeak. you didn’t look up at first because it probably lara, forgetting her charger after yesterday’s session, again.

“no fucking way,” yunjin dropped her pen.

that was when you looked up, dumbfounded when your eyes met sophia’s — standing in the threshold like it was the first time, blinking at the soundproofing foam and scattered cables.

giselle looked up just in time to watch yunjin bolt across the room. “wait, wait, let her breathe —”

but sophia was already laughing, holding her arms out awkwardly, barely getting the chance to set her bag down before yunjin crashed into her. arms around her neck, head buried into her shoulder, body shaking just slightly like she couldn’t believe what she was touching.

“you’re here,” yunjin whispered.

she nodded fondly. “i am.”

then giselle joined them. not as loud, but no less emotional; her hands cupping sophia’s shoulders first, then tugging her in like she belonged there.

you held your breath.

and sophia — caught between them, still smiling in that unsure, breathless way, let herself get engulfed, arms tightening around both their backs with her face pressed between shoulders.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes closing like her body remembered this warmth before her mind had caught up. “i’d like to learn this again, if you guys are free.”

giselle’s smile was immediate. “of course, welcome home.”

for the next hour, you barely did anything except watch her: the way she followed instructions. the way her brow furrowed when yunjin explained reverb, the way she nodded slowly like she was soaking it all in.

and then, after hours — you cracked open a can of red horse each. sat on the curb like old times, streetlights buzzing above you.

“you know,” yunjin started, raising her can. “the only reason we ever drank this was ‘cause piya showed up one day with a box of it, saying it was the only beer that tasted good around these parts.”

sophia laughed quietly, holding her can with both hands. “i did?”

“you did,” giselle repeated, bumping her knee against hers. “and then it became our ritual…the post-production red horse.”

“that’s sweet,” she said, glancing at you.

you didn’t say anything, just smiled, feeling something warm creep under your skin.

“glad to have you back, soph,” yunjin patted her back. “y/n’s been really helpful, you’re lucky to have someone love you the way she does.”

neither of you said anything, but the smiles on your faces was enough of an answer.

sometime later, you excused yourself inside to pack the gear away, bending down to unplug the monitor speakers when you heard the door creak open behind you.

“you always pack like you’re the intern who accidentally recorded over the master tape,” giselle joked, her voice teasing.

you looked up and gave her a tired smile. “it’s habit; you know tidying gives me the illusion i’ve got everything under control.”

she stepped inside, eyes trailing across the space as she crossed her arms.

this room had seen all of you: sleepless nights, ugly fights, album launches and heartbreaks. it had held so much of sophia, before everything fell apart.

she walked over slowly, watching you pack up the last set of headphones. “she’s starting to sound like herself again.”

your fingers lingered on the zipper of your bag, pausing.

“is she?” you asked, not sure if you were brave enough to hope.

giselle nodded. “a little slower, softer. but yeah…the way she asked about gain staging earlier? how she tapped the tempo into the desk while yunjin was talking? that’s her — it’s all still there. just…taking its time.”

you didn’t say anything. you just stood there, eyes on the floor. there was that constant, unbearable mix of love and longing and fear starting in your chest again.

giselle stepped closer. “don’t give up on her.”

you looked up. her voice was quieter now, way more honest.

“i know it’s been slow. painful, even.”

you nodded, throat tightening. “sometimes it feels like i’m the only one waiting.”

“you’re not,” she reassured gently. “you’re just the one who has loved and known her the longest.”

you heaved out a sigh, the bag zipped shut beneath your hand. you didn’t want to hope, not until she asked you to come along again — not because she needed you, but because she remembered how it felt to want you by her side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the invite came in passing.

sophia was brushing her teeth in the mirror when she asked, her voice muffled around the toothbrush: “do you want to come with me to this thing?”

you glanced up from the book in your lap, brows furrowed from the bedroom. “what thing?”

she spat into the sink, rinsed, then clarified. “an art gallery opening, very casual. one of my old uni friends invited me — i can cancel if you’re tired, though.”

you watched her eyes in the mirror, how she didn’t meet yours as she said it. her hands were already reaching for the towel, already moving to dry her face like she hadn’t just cracked open a piece of her past and held it between you.

“i’d love to, soph,” you smiled gently.

she smiled back, like she hadn’t expected you to say yes. “i just don’t want to go alone.”

but that wasn’t how it felt later, when you were in the hallway mirror, both of you getting ready to leave. she was adjusting her earrings when she turned toward you, smoothing down the collar of your coat with gentle fingers.

“there,” she murmured softly. “better.”

her hand lingered longer than it needed to and you caught her looking at you like she was seeing something new. or something old - you couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore.

the gallery was located inside a red-brick building downtown, all exposed beams and soft lighting, every corner filled with laughter and polished shoes echoing on concrete.

the moment you stepped in, you immediately felt underdressed, though sophia didn’t seem fazed at all.

people knew her; you hadn’t expected just how much.

they stopped her midstep, mid-sentence, mid-sip: old classmates, past professors, the people whose names she didn’t even need to say.

they remembered her with the kind of fondness that made you realise: she had been someone here. adored — the heart of every room.

and you couldn’t help but think how lovely it was, in a painful sort of way, to see a version of her you never got to meet.

“heard you’re coming back into the law scene?” hanni, some girl from her old lectures, asked.

“yeah, long story,” she answered easily, tucking hair behind her ear. “but yeah…i’m starting again soon.”

you stood beside her, nodding through introductions. each time, she said your name — just your name; a soft, forgettable introduction and then she would turn back to whoever was talking.

it stung; a hollowness behind your ribs that stayed.

then, after a few more greetings, she would reach for your hand again, slipping her fingers into yours when no one was looking, as though that made up for it.

“pinot grigio,” she whispered near your ear as you examined a wall of abstract canvases.

“again?” you muttered, putting hand to your chest in offense. “these fancy openings always serve this, don’t they?”

“i’m so sick of it!”

“oh, how atrocious,” you replied in a terrible british accent, making her laugh. “what would you serve then, wine snob?”

“a dry red. something with —”

“is that the sophia laforteza or just someone impossibly more stunning than i remember?” the voice, sharp and cheerful came from behind her, it irked you in all ways possible.

you turned at the same time she did: vincent.

he was tall and well-dressed in a subtle but expensive way. of course he had to be handsome; the kind of man people expected sophia to end up with.

the one she almost did.

she laughed, eyes wide. “vincent?”

he leaned in, polite but warm, pulling her into a short hug. “it’s been forever.”

they hugged — brief, half-clumsy. you stood still, your hands folded behind your back.

“and you are?” he asked, turning toward you with a polite smile.

“i’m y/n,” you answered, voice calm but deliberate. “sophia’s wife.”

he raised his eyebrows slightly, turning to her. “oh, i didn’t realise you two were married.”

you gave a small smile. “we’ve been married a while.”

he nodded, polite again, but his attention was already shifting back to sophia. the way they spoke: effortless, their sentences tumbling over one another — made your stomach twist.

their conversation brought up many things from his past and sophia’s current: shared references, jokes you didn’t understand, laughter that made your skin prickle.

you stood beside them but felt like you were on the other side of the room, your fingers awkwardly tracing the rim of your glass as you watched them…the way they leaned in slightly, the way she touched his arm when she laughed.

she used to look at you like that.

and somewhere between a joke about their old ethics professor and something about law school applications, you drifted. your eyes found the exit - the exit found you back.

when she excused herself to grab another drink, you stepped in, maybe too quickly.

“i’ll get it for you,” you sighed, already turning toward the bar. “catch up.”

she hesitated, but let you…her eyes following you carefully until you disappeared from her sight.

the bar was tucked at the edge of the gallery, low-lit and half-empty. you stood waiting for the bartender, fingers tapping the rim of your glass, trying not to think about how far you had drifted from her tonight.

“must be hard,” a voice began beside you, you immediately turned. “being married to someone who doesn’t remember you.”

she was equal parts striking and intimidating; you recognised her from law school photos. the words stung, not because they were cruel — but because they were somewhat true.

you pursed your lips, then said quietly: “we’re figuring it out.”

her gaze softened slightly. “i’m sorry, that came out really wrong. i didn’t mean for it to —“

you nodded, cutting her off. “really, it’s okay.”

she extended a hand, this time more formally. “danielle marsh.”

you shook it. “i’m y/n.”

her eyes lit up, surprised. “right, i remember hearing about your work a while ago.”

you nodded, unsure what to say. she looked genuinely interested now, shifting her wine to her other hand. “i’d love to see your pieces sometime,” she added eagerly. then, after a pause: “if you ever need free legal advice, i owe your wifee too many favours. this is all i can offer at the moment,” she handed you a small black card.

you smiled, softer this time. “thank you.”

“my office will be in touch for those pieces.”

raising your glass, you nodded. “i’ll be waiting.”

when you made your way back, wine glasses in hand, you found them still deep in conversation. vincent leaned closer, something soft in his eyes.

and sophia — god…she looked calm and lit up from within. you wanted to hate him, but you really didn’t. you just hated that you weren’t that light in her life anymore.

and when she finally noticed you again, she looked up with a smile like nothing had shifted, you realised she hadn’t even noticed how long you were gone.

“thank you,” she mumbled, taking the glass from you.

vincent was saying something about her applications, how he could easily connect her with someone who was in her units.

then he pulled her in for a hug — awkward, too-long and right in front of you.

you stood still.

“i’ll see you around,” he said, nodding politely at you. “pleasure to meet you, y/n.”

“you too.”

you didn’t mean it.

the rest of the night blurred. you walked through the gallery hand in hand again, but it didn’t feel the same. her fingers were warm but her gaze was elsewhere.

she tried to talk to you, pointing out a piece she liked, asking what you thought of a sculpture.

but your answers were short and clipped.

retreating into that small, quiet box in your chest where you went when things hurt too much to acknowledge.

she was looking at him in the same way she used to look at you.

and the ride home wasn’t any better.

you sat with your hands in your lap, fingers curled into the hem of your coat, watching the streetlights drag shadows across sophia’s face from the other side of the seat.

she looked calm, humming faintly to herself. occasionally glancing at you like she could sense something simmering but didn’t quite know where the heat was coming from.

you didn’t speak. there was too much to say, actually, too many versions of tonight that had scraped against old wounds. many memories that didn’t belong to her anymore, but still belonged to you.

in your head, she was still your wife. still yours.

but tonight, watching her smile at vincent, seeing the way she leaned into his familiarity, how she looked at him like he was part of something soft and unfinished —

you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

in her head, she was still dating her ex. and that fucking hurt.

by the time you got home, the ache in your chest was sharper than the one in your leg.

you moved on autopilot; keys in the bowl, jacket on the hook, shoes lined up by the door. sophia wandered into the kitchen like she always did, turned the overhead light on low, casting the whole room in this warm amber.

it made everything feel gentler than it actually was. you stood there, unsure whether to follow her or disappear into the room.

“tea or wine?” she asked.

your mouth parted, about to answer, but she was already pulling down the bottle - already setting out two glasses.

“wine, then,” she smiled to herself, uncorking it like it was the obvious choice.

you nodded, though your stomach twisted. this version of her…the one who didn’t wait, who just assumed she still knew you, hurt in ways you couldn’t name.

she joined you on the couch a few seconds later, handing you your glass. her thigh was pressed against yours and the heat made you even more aware of your silence.

the clink of the wine glass touching the table; the hush of the city outside. you were all the way in your head now, somewhere ugly and aching.

vincent’s voice still lingered. and that look sophia had given him — it played over and over behind your eyes. you hated how well they fit and how easy the conversation was.

and how forgotten you felt.

she’s still in love with someone she remembers. and it’s not me, you thought.

then, without a word, sophia stood up and walked to the record shelf.

she crouched in front of the record player, flipping through vinyls. her fingers stopped and she pulled out one like it had called to her.

the soft scratch of the needle settled into the room, followed by the slow, smoky start of ‘buddy’s rendezvous’.

you closed your eyes briefly. of all the songs.

she turned back around, glass still in hand and sat again — this time facing you, tucking one leg under the other. she was staring at you with something close to a frown, though her tone was gentle. “tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

there was so much to say. your throat tightened. “nothing…my leg hurts, that’s all.”

a beat of silence passed.

“c’mon,” she finally whispered. “up here.”

sophia set her wine down without comment, leaned forward and reached for your leg. you stayed still, her hands were warm as she pulled your leg up into her lap and started massaging it gently, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you didn’t stop her.

instead, you leaned back against the couch, tilted your head until it rested against the cushion. with your eyes closed, the tension in your throat began to loosen a little - the wine still balanced loosely in your fingers.

“i hate this leg,” you murmured. “i fucking hate everything.”

the words left your mouth before you could catch them. it was soft, but sharp around the edges…not a joke.

her thumbs paused for a second, then kept going as if she understood — rubbing your calf, up to your knee, gentle and steady, perhaps trying to knead the bitterness out of you.

the music crackled softly in the background.

everything you want, what’s the fun in getting everything you want?

your head was spinning; wine, confusion, the unbearable sweetness of her hands still choosing you in this moment.

her hands paused, resting against your knee for a moment. “better?”

“sure,” you nodded quietly. “thanks.”

she looked at you like she wanted to say more, biting the bottom of her lip. then she began to lean forward, crawling up without a word and hands pressing either side of your hips, weight settling onto your thighs.

she was on top of you now, soft and sure, breathing your name under her breath like it was permission.

you didn’t dare move, her mouth found yours first. she was gentle, pressing up against as your hands moved into her hair, pulling her closer.

she kissed you like she had something to prove — like maybe tonight had reminded her of what she stood to lose. perhaps she saw it, too: the distance between then and now.

but for now, there was no distance.

only this…her weight on your lap, lips on yours and the soft moan she didn’t mean to let out when your hands slid under her shirt.

you could feel your heart trying to speak, pounding against your ribs like it wanted to be let out. but you didn’t say anything.

you just kissed her because the distance hadn’t begun yet.

for now, she was still yours. and god — didn’t that count for something?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the silence of the flat had started to feel like a third person in the house…well, it was subtle at first.

small absences stitched into the seams of routine: missed meals, late replies, mornings without the smell of coffee. sophia had started seeing her parents more often; something about more paperwork for her return to law school.

her texts to you were growing shorter, then less frequent and some went unanswered.

you tried not to take it personally. she was busy figuring things out, reminded yourself that healing wasn’t linear…that intimacy could exist even in silence.

but some nights, it was hard to believe that.

this was one of those nights.

you left the studio early, the first time in a few weeks. giselle had offered to close up so you could head home and you had taken it as a sign. you didn’t have much left in your account, rent had just gone through — but you still stopped by king & i and ordered the usual: chicken pad thai, khao soi and mango sticky rice.

your hands trembled slightly on the train ride home from fatigue and hunger. the studio had been accidentally overbooked this month and all of a sudden, you were swarmed with endless tasks.

you kept checking your phone like it might buzz — ‘a where are you?’ or even a ‘running late’.

nothing.

as soon as you reached home, you kicked off your shoes and moved quietly through the space. the apartment smelled like vanilla and cloves from the candle you lit that morning. you unpacked the food, laid the table gently; ceramic bowls and real cutlery, not the wooden ones from the takeaway bag.

you even put on a record: orion sun, spinning soft in the background.

when sophia walked in fifteen minutes later, the first thing she said was: “babe, you didn’t have to do all this.”

but she was smiling when she said it, leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, her fingers still cold from being outside.

you tried not to melt at the contact.

“i wanted to,” you sighed. “we’ve both been so busy.”

she slipped out of her coat, draped it over the back of the couch. her hair was tied up, a few loose strands framing her face. she looked tired. but lighter, somehow.

“how was the studio?” she asked, sitting across from you.

you shrugged, scooping pad thai onto her plate. “same stuff. yunjin’s still fussy about the bass mix and giselle has a hangover from last night after drinking all the beer in the fridge.”

she laughed. “what, the red horse?”

“yup,” you chuckled. “the very one, bloody thing has eight percent of alcohol in a can.”

“she’s ridiculous,” she shook her head fondly, then brightened. “i had my interview this morning for the official start date. it went really well; i think they’re gonna give me my old spot.”

you smiled, even though it hurt in a way — a gentle the reminder that this version of sophia, the one in front of you, belonged to a world you weren’t really part of.

not anymore.

“that’s amazing!” you exclaimed and meant it. you reached under the table, pulling out the small box you had hidden earlier. “i made you a little something…i kind of knew you were going to get your spot, so.”

she gasped in surprise and tore the wrapper slowly, expression softening as she lifted the ceramic mug you had painted — cobalt swirls on cream, uneven in places, but full of you.

“this is gorgeous,” she breathed in awe. “you made this?”

you nodded, suddenly shy. “glazed it last week. figured you would need something to stress-sip liquid from — law school’s going to be hectic.”

she leaned over and kissed your cheek again, warmer this time. “thank you, really.”

for a moment, things felt easy again. the silence demanded nothing from you two as you sat together on the couch, empty bowls on the table behind you, orion sun still faint on the vinyl.

sophia told you about the upcoming brunch with her mother, how danielle had offered to help her prep for a mock trial if she needed it and vincent’s been helping her study, actually — “he’s really good at simplifying things.”

you forced a smile, trying to act normal.

but the tone of her voice changed when she said his name. it wasn’t romantic, no, just…warm in a way you hadn’t heard in weeks.

she didn’t notice the shift in your posture, but you felt it - the subtle flicker of something that tasted like grief.

you wondered what it would be like to forget someone. not just the bad, but the good too; to erase the weight of shared history and start fresh, without any of the debt.

how lucky.

sophia stood up then, stretching.

“i’ve got brunch with mum tomorrow,” she mumbled sleepily, running her fingers through her hair. “i’m heading to bed soon. are you coming?”

you nodded quickly. “yeah. i’ll just…clean up first.”

she leaned in, kissed you on the mouth this time — gentle, but brief.

you sat still for a moment, alone on the couch, hands curled around the ceramic mug she just unwrapped. pressing your thumb to the rim, you noticed there was a slight chip on the handle.

a part of you wanted to shatter it and make something new.

but instead, you picked up the empty bowls, turned the record over and cleaned the kitchen like nothing was cracking under your skin.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, the distance had grown long enough to notice. what began subtly was now pretty obvious: she was avoiding you.

an unanswered message here, a missed dinner there. and then one morning, you woke up and the bed was cold, her side untouched. your hand instinctively reached across the sheets, but all it met was the quiet.

there was no note, just a text an hour later: staying at mum and dad’s for the day, law prep stuff. hope your leg’s better today x

and that became the rhythm. you would wake up alone, sometimes go to bed that way too. she started sleeping over at her parents’ house more often.

she gave you a heads up, always polite: don’t wait up; mum’s early breakfast plans; dad’s pulling out old case files.

you told yourself not to panic — she was reconnecting with her family. that was important, you wanted that for her, but it still hurt.

you didn’t know what you did, or if you did anything at all. you tried replaying the last few conversations; the last time she reached for your hand without thinking. it all seemed fine — better than fine, you were getting somewhere.

had you only imagined it?

and then one thursday afternoon, the answer to your confusion arrived in the shape of a silver car pulling into the driveway - you knew who it was immediately by the silence of the engine.

you were sitting outside, sketchbook balanced on your good knee, the other leg throbbing in the cold. you were drawing to distract yourself: sloppy lines and unfinished thoughts in charcoal.

anything to quiet the ache.

vincent stepped out of the driver’s side and jogged around to open sophia’s door like it was instinct. she climbed out slowly, laughing at something he said, brushing her hair out of her face as he shut the door behind her.

she looked happy.

and when she noticed you sitting there on the porch, her laughter stopped.

her smile faded, replaced with something cautious. “hey, didn’t know you were out here.”

you looked at her for a moment as the wind tugged her shirt sleeve.

vincent, to his credit, handled it with grace.

“hi y/n,” he said, offering a nod, his voice gentle. “i just dropped her home…we were going over some prep for the semester. i’ll get out of your way in a minute.”

you closed your sketchbook, swallowing the taste of bitterness on your tongue. “thanks, hope it went well.”

“it did,” sophia cut in, stepping past him. “thanks again, vince.”

he gave a soft smile and left without dragging it out. the car reversed, tires crunching softly over gravel — you watched until the taillights disappeared, fighting the urge follow her inside right away.

your hands shook too much to carry your sketchbook and you didn’t know if it was anger or jealousy.

whatever it was, it felt ugly. you felt ugly.

but eventually, you stood. the limp was worse than usual, each step a reminder that your body hadn’t healed where it needed to. and perhaps, neither had your heart.

when you walked inside, she was in the kitchen, pouring water into a glass like nothing was wrong.

you stood in the doorway, voice calm. “have you been spending time with him?”

she turned to you. “i told you, he’s been helping with my law school stuff. i’ve mentioned it before.”

“you did,” you nodded. “but he’s your ex.”

she sighed, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “and? what does that have to do with anything?”

you kept your voice even. “i’m not upset you’re getting help. i’m just…confused. that’s all — it’s been happening more lately. and he’s not just anyone, he’s someone you used to love.”

sophia’s arms crossed over her chest. “y/n, you don’t have the right to be jealous.”

you flinched, barely. “i do, legally, you’re still my wife.”

“no,” she insisted, pushing up from the counter. “you don’t, you keep throwing that word around like it still means something.”

“it does mean something,” you said quietly, looking down. “it means something to me.”

that made her pause as you took a small breath, trying to steady yourself.

“i thought we were making progress,” you continued, eyes softer. “after everything…the dinners, the pottery and the kisses — i thought maybe we were finding something real again.”

“you thought,” she snapped. “you decided that and gave yourself the idea that this was some grand love story where i was going to magically remember you.”

she kept going. “you think just because we kissed or because i was kind to you, that it meant something? maybe it was just something familiar.”

your heart dropped, shattering. still, your voice stayed calm. “was it all just…an experiment, then? a situationship to kill time while you walked back to the life you left behind?”

“you’re twisting this,” she groaned, tone sharp. “he dropped me off, so what?”

“i’m not twisting anything, sophia, i’m just trying to understand how we went from kissing on the couch to you sleeping at your parents’ house every other night.”

she looked furious now, but it wasn’t rage - it was something messier. hurt, maybe, grief that hadn’t found its shape.

“you can’t put this all on me,” she defended herself, voice cracking. “i’m trying to figure out who i am and you’re sitting here claiming ownership over something i don’t even remember choosing.”

your mouth parted, composure slipping. “are you fucking hearing yourself right now?”

and for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

back then, you had never yelled at her…not until now — choosing to stay patient through every cruel word whenever she became frustrated.

but this…this pushed past your limits.

“do you know how hard it’s been to wake up next to someone who looks like my wife but doesn’t know how to look at me anymore? and i’ve done every fucking thing, everything, to not make you feel guilty and give you space and to let you rediscover what you need to….but this?” your voice cracked, taking a deep breath in frustration. “this is fucking cruel.”

her face had hardened into something unfamiliar; defensive and too proud to back down.

and so you stood there, feeling smaller than you had in months as you waited for something soft to return — but nothing did.

now, everything between you was suddenly fragile, as if one wrong move would shatter it completely.

the room felt colder than usual.

sophia’s glass was still half full, her fingers still curled loosely around the rim. neither of you had moved in minutes, the last few words just hanging there between you like wires stretched too tight.

“do you really think this is easy for me?” she finally looked up, her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

you didn’t answer, barely leaning against the door frame, arms limp by your sides as you stared at the wood grain under your feet; listening.

“do you know how it feels to wake up every day next to someone who knows you better than you know yourself? to feel like you’re constantly auditioning for a role you never asked to play?”

“i’m not asking you to be anyone else!”

“yes, you fucking are,” she spat. “every time you look at me like that. with those eyes —like you’re waiting; hoping today might be the day i finally come back to you.”

“i’m just trying to understand how we got here. how you went from —” you explained gently but stopped yourself, clenching your jaw. “never mind.”

“no,” she raised her voice. “say it again, go on. say how i kissed you, how we slept in the same bed, how i held your hand — i know what i did.”

you stared at her, ears ringing. her chest was rising and falling again now like saying it had winded her.

“okay,” you whispered, making sense of what she was trying to do.

“you were kind to me,” she added, slamming her hand on the table. “and you’re probably right, maybe i led you on, maybe i wanted to feel something and you were the closest thing i had to comfort.”

you nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. “that’s okay, i’m not mad at you.”

that somehow made her angrier.

“why aren’t you mad?” she asked. “why don’t you yell? why don’t you tell me i’m cruel and selfish and confused?”

you looked at her then — and you saw the version of her that didn’t know what to do with your patience: the version that wanted to be hated because at least then she could walk away without guilt.

“i’m tired,” sophia admitted, louder this time. “tired of the pressure and feeling like whatever this is…isn’t enough. because it’s not enough, is it? not for you.”

you breathed in through your nose, steady and quiet. “sophia, i’ve never asked for more than you could give.”

“no,” she laughed bitterly. “but you feel like more; you carry this history between us like a ghost and i’m the one fucking haunted by it.”

you looked at her flushed cheeks, her narrowed eyes and trembling fingers. she looked so alive in her anger, so real. and yet…so far away from you.

“how do you look at someone you love,” you asked, pausing to look her in the eye. “and decide it’s time to stop?”

sophia’s shoulders sagged all at once. her mouth parted, but no sound came. then she turned away, pressed her knuckles to her lips like she had calmed down.

“don’t,” she whispered. “don’t say things like that.”

“why not?” you waited; watched her tuck her arms around herself like she was holding something in.

“i don’t want to disappoint you anymore,” she breathed out, lips trembling. “i see it in your eyes every time i forget something…or when i can’t react the way you expect me to — i see the hope, and it kills me.”

“you never disappoint me,” you murmured, but your voice was paper thin.

“i do,” she cut in, her eyes were glassy now. “i know you say it’s okay, you try to be patient. but it’s there. it’s always there. and the worst part is knowing…knowing this might be it. that these memories might never come back. and you’ll keep waiting for a version of me that’ll never come.”

your own hands felt so heavy as you looked at them again, throat aching with sobs you couldn’t let out just yet.

so you asked, barely above a whisper. “if i disappeared tomorrow…if you didn’t have to carry the weight of our marriage on your shoulders anymore…would that make you happy?”

a silence so loud it rang through your ears.

sophia blinked rapidly, a tear slipping out of her eye as you watched it slide down the curve of her cheek. and finally, she whispered: “yes.”

the admission didn’t feel like a stab, it felt like relief for all the sleepless nights and careful silences that had led you here — to this one truth neither of you could outrun.

something inside you had already broken long before tonight, you couldn’t cry even though it hurt.

so all you could do was nod.

“you know i love you, sophia. i promised i’d love all versions of you, attend a thousand funerals for the person you used to be. and i do love whoever you are right now even if she doesn’t remember me.”

you looked at her eyes, down to the way she fidgeted with her sleeves like she didn’t want to be seen crying. and you softened, not because she deserved your kindness, but because you still believed in the love that made you offer it.

“but if me being gone would genuinely bring you peace,” you said gently. “then i’ll let you go.”

she covered her face with her hands, breathing hard like it hurt to hear. and maybe it did, but you didn’t move to comfort her. instead, you stood there and held space for the pain so it could settle.

of all the things you thought love would be, you never imagined it would end like this — not in the way her eyes dropped to the floor like they couldn’t bear to meet yours. you loved her enough to wait.

it didn’t take long. she wiped her face with the back of her wrist and silently turned towards the bedroom.

you moved towards the sink, eyes following the fading echo of her footsteps and the way the floor creaked under her weight. then, the zipper of a bag and the sound of drawers opening and the faint hum of her breath catching in her chest.

she came out with a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder, hair tucked behind her ears like she couldn’t bear to have it in her face.

“i’ll stay with my parents,” she mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “just for a few days. until…things calm down.”

you nodded again. “okay.”

there was no hope left in you, not anymore.

she lingered by the door, clutching the strap of her bag. you caught her glance around the flat one last time: the plants, your shared bookshelf, the clay bowl you left on the dining table two nights ago.

then she left.

gripping the edge of the sink, you held your breath as if it could help you slow your thoughts. deep down, you already knew this wasn’t temporary…this wasn’t until things calm down.

this was the end.

the glass sophia drank from earlier still sat on the counter and you stared at it for a long time.

perhaps it was the last thing tethering you to her.

and in that emptiness, one thought echoed over and over again — what a strange thing it was, to lose someone twice. and still love both versions.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days passed and the silence that followed felt heavier than the argument itself. you tried not to think about it, but it seeped into everything: your morning tea, walks to the studio, into the quiet way the sheets felt colder without her in them.

you hadn’t heard anything from her since.

and of course, it made you wonder — if you had just held your tongue; didn’t ask that question; if you just swallowed it all down like you always did, would she still be here? would she still be waking up beside you, brushing her teeth beside you, grumbling about burnt toast and leaving her socks in weird places?

you blamed yourself for the fallout.

you kept replaying it in your head like a broken record, telling yourself you were the one who shattered whatever quiet peace you built. perhaps if you hadn’t said ‘i’ll let you go’.

maybe if you had just — you didn’t know.

when the knock came, you startled upright, heart leaping so fast it made your stomach hurt.

you limped to the door, brushing your palms against your shirt and tried to smoothen yourself out. and despite every rational part of you whispering don’t hope, your lips tugged into a smile before you even turned the knob.

but it wasn’t sophia.

it was godfrey laforteza: cold, composed and unreadable as ever. his eyes swept over your expression as though taking measure.

the smile dropped from your face instantly. still, you stepped aside, murmured: “come in.”

he entered slowly, gaze flicking across the apartment like he was inspecting it; checking the space and the remnants of your life with her.

he just hummed in satisfaction.

you cleared your throat, standing awkwardly. “would you like something to drink? coffee or tea maybe?”

“i won’t be staying long,” he replied simply, settling himself down onto the couch, legs crossed and briefcase set neatly by his feet.

you sat across from him, hands folded tightly in your lap.

“i’ll get straight to the point,” he said, folding his fingers. “i think it’s time sophia moved back in with us.”

your stomach twisted. “…she decided that?”

“she agrees it might be for the best. law school begins soon and she needs to focus. she needs structure and stability; you know how it is in our world, don’t you?”

you swallowed hard. “sophia needs a support system. someone who was in her life before the accident. someone who —”

“she has that,” he cut in. “vincent, her old university friends. people who know her as she is now…not as who she was.”

you flinched when you didn’t mean to, but it was physical - the words actually landed on you.

his face didn’t shift, simply reaching for the briefcase, popped it open and pulled out a folder. he placed it carefully on the coffee table and nudged it towards you.

“what’s this?” you asked, though you already knew.

“divorce papers,” he answered so casually. “i’d like you to take your time with them, but sophia’s already signed.”

your breath caught in your chest.

he said it like it was business and not your whole world being ripped out from under you. this was sophia you were talking about — your wife, your best friend and the person you built your life around.

your throat burned. “you’re lying.”

he didn’t react, just pushed the folder closer.

“she wants to start over. she can’t do that if she’s anchored to a version of herself she doesn’t recognise. this marriage —” his gaze sharpened, scoffing. “wasn’t her choice. it was memory’s, specifically yours. then old habits, legal obligations.”

you gripped the edge of the couch cushion so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“i understand the bills are stacking up,” he added like salt to the wound. “you’ve taken time off sculpting. you’re barely operating the studio with how much your leg is aching — this can all go away. we’ll provide support. financial, if necessary.”

your fingers didn’t move as you stared at the page like it might suddenly vanish, maybe if you blinked hard enough, it would all blur.

it was really her name, sophia elizabeth laforteza, scrawled in the same handwriting you watched on grocery lists, birthday cards, notes she used to stick on the fridge that said don’t forget to kiss me before work.

then you looked up at him; at the man who had never once looked at you like you were enough.

“i don’t want your money,” you replied bitterly.

he frowned, unimpressed.

“i love her, i genuinely love her.”

“then you’ll understand,” he replied. “that she signed willingly. this is her choice.”

you shook your head, not in disbelief, no. it had sunk in by now. you were just trying to find oxygen in the room again.

“she wants to part with the life she can’t remember,” he continued. “and begin again, she deserves that.”

his words were sharp, but what made them unbearable wasn’t the cruelty - it was that they were probably true.

you leaned back, folding your arms across your stomach like you were holding yourself together.

he opened the checkbook.

you stood up, too fast, the motion clumsy and shaking. “get out.”

he raised an eyebrow.

“now.”

he didn’t argue, but stood calmly as ever and gathered his things. at the door, he paused. “you love her, i believe that. but loving someone who doesn’t love you back —”

“i said get out.”

he looked at you for a beat too long. maybe to find weakness, look for something resembling gratitude, but there was none left. not for him.

you slammed the door closed and locked it, the quiet was louder now.

walking into your workspace, you turned towards the wheel; the drying shelves; the half-finished pieces. bowls, vases, little things waiting to be held.

you grabbed one, didn’t even look at what it was, then you smashed it against the wall. the crash was satisfying despite the lingering ache in your chest.

you picked up another, this one still soft and threw it next. it didn’t shatter the same way but it made a mark. you kept going, just one after the fucking other.

the ache needed somewhere to go.

your hands were covered in dust and glaze, breathing uneven. and you stared at the mess with hollow eyes.

on the coffee table, the folder just sat there like it wasn’t the final nail in the coffin. but you knew it in your bones…that nothing would ever feel the same again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sound broke through the stillness that had settled in the apartment as you sat on the floor, legs pulled up to your chest beside the half-wrecked bookshelf. one of your mugs, the one she used all the time, lay broken beneath the dining table.

the cushions were out of place, clay-stained towels draped over the edge. everything felt like a strange mix of ache and apathy.

you didn’t answer the door, but it creaked open anyway.

manon’s voice was the first to fill the space. “hey babe, it’s just dani and i. the younger ones didn’t want to crowd you.”

you looked up slowly; her hair was damp, as if she left in a rush. daniela trailed behind her, carrying a box of takeout and a bottle of something; not alcoholic for once, maybe juice. you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve had anything besides wine.

both of them paused when they took in the room, daniela’s mouth opened like she was about to say something, then closed again.

they didn’t ask questions. manon crouched near you on the floor, careful not to touch anything just yet. “giselle said you haven’t been at the studio and that you weren’t answering calls.”

you nodded; that was true.

daniela set the box down on the coffee table. she didn’t sit yet, hovering and looking at you, her brows drawn together with real concern.

you swallowed down the dryness in your mouth, voice coming out smaller than you meant it to. “she’s gone.”

neither of them said anything as you looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of a dried clay smear on your knee. the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable, it felt more like permission for you to pour your heart out.

you inhaled, then spoke again, slower this time. “she just…switched. i don’t know when. one day we were okay, then vincent showed up again. then she was packing. and then her dad came over with…with fucking divorce papers.”

you nodded towards the folder still sitting on table in front of you. manon followed your gaze, she didn’t touch it.

“she already signed them,” you chuckled bitterly, trying not to choke on it. “i don’t even get to talk to her, i didn’t even know she fucking wanted one, you know?”

daniela sat beside you now, crossing her legs and exhaled slowly - she was letting the weight of it settle around her too.

“did you sign?” she asked.

you shook your head.

“good,” she said, but there was no certainty behind it; it was a quiet understanding that maybe there wasn’t a good or bad way to survive something like this.

“and he…he offered me money to go through with it.”

manon’s jaw tensed, reaching for her phone when it buzzed then put it back down without turning it over.

“i said no,” you whispered. “i told him i love her. and he said…she wants to start over. that she’s done trying to remember.”

the words hung there like smoke.

you stared at the floor again. “and i get it, you know? i get it, must be exhausting — waking up next to someone who remembers every version of you when you don’t even recognise your own handwriting.”

“i thought we were doing better. i really thought we were getting through it. she was…warm again,” you rubbed your face with both hands, suddenly ashamed of how easily the words spilled out of you. “and all of a sudden she was gone.”

manon leaned her head back against the couch behind you, staring up at the ceiling. “do you want her back?”

the question caught you off guard, eyes flicking toward her.

she added, quieter: “or do you just want the version of her that remembered you?”

the question echoed around your ribs, unkind in its accuracy; you didn’t know how to answer that because part of you wanted to scream: yes, of course. yes, you wanted sophia back.

but which one?

you thought about all of it: the pottery classes, her messy apron covered in clay, how she cried the first time yunjin and giselle hugged her at the studio, how she laughed at your terrible playlist while spinning the wheel.

and then you thought about the quiet: the unanswered texts, the look she gave vincent, the mug by the sink she hadn’t touched in weeks, the way her eyes softened when she said she was tired.

“i don’t know.”you looked down at your hands again, the wedding ring still on your finger glinted under the yellow light.

the truth was heavier than anything else; not knowing or having an answer — loving someone who couldn’t remember the life you built together and maybe didn’t want to.

manon didn’t press. “that’s alright.”

only that it didn’t feel alright, but somehow, having someone else say it grounded you for a second.

the three of you sat in the living room as the sun sank lower. it stayed warm with the scent of the takeout box and the presence of people who had chosen to stay.

the apartment grew quieter the longer they stayed. manon eventually unfolded a blanket from the armrest and placed it over your shoulders, wordlessly. you didn’t resist, tucking your hands beneath the soft fabric and leaned back against the couch again, heart heavy in your chest.

daniela opened the box and placed it on the coffee table, peeling off the lid like she was trying not to startle you. “you’ve gotta eat,” she muttered, not looking at you. “even if it’s just a few bites.”

you stared at the rice for a moment before nodding, unsure if you were doing it for yourself or for her. the food was warm and slightly sweet. you didn’t have much of an appetite, but you chewed slowly, the motion keeping your mind from spiralling too far down.

no one had said anything about the broken pieces by the wall; it was written in the stillness of the apartment, the way the curtains hadn’t been drawn back in days and the vinyl player silent beneath a thin coat of dust.

“she really just left?” daniela asked eventually, her voice low.

you nodded, letting your head rest against the back of the couch. “she said she needed space.”

she pursed her lips, manon didn’t look away. “and you? what do you need?”

it was the first time anyone had asked.

the answer didn’t come right away. you wanted to say something, anything, that didn’t make you feel like a shell. but all you could manage was, again: “i don’t know.”

your hands were calloused and scarred from the kiln, from the sharp edges of things you never threw away.

“maybe just…” you swallowed, throat catching. “to not feel like i’m waiting anymore.”

they didn’t say anything, but you felt them shift closer, as if something unspoken had started to bridge the gap between where you were and what they wanted to give you.

manon set her legs up and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “you’re not a burden, you know.”

your laugh was dry. “i’m not sure i’m anything at all right now.”

“you’re someone,” daniela reassured firmly. “you’re someone to us.”

you looked at her, and for a moment, you saw what she meant. it was in the way she looked at you, still worth something, even if sophia didn’t see it anymore. maybe you would eventually believe them.

daniela got up, pouring a glass of water before handing it to you. “so what happens now?”

the answer clanged through your chest like an empty can: what now?

“i don’t think she’s coming back; she’s tired.”

you didn’t mean to sound so final, but there it was. you could feel the truth of it under your tongue; how light the apartment felt now, stripped of her presence. her laughter hadn’t filled the corners of this place in days.

daniela tilted her head. “tired of what?”

“of me,” the weight of your own voice made your stomach twist. “she tried, she really did…but maybe some stories aren’t meant to be restarted.”

hours passed slowly, but neither of them made a move to leave. daniela curled into the couch above you while manon disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a teapot full of chamomile tea. the sound of rain began to replace the silence, inconsistent drips banging against the windowpane. you watched it for a while, the way the water blurred the lights; all you could think about was how often sophia used to trace those lights on the glass with her finger, humming quietly, saying the city looked better when it was out of focus.

maybe that’s what she had done with you —blurred you out until you were someone easier to let go of.

manon leaned over and pressed her head against your shoulder, careful not to shift the blanket. it startled you for a second, but you didn’t pull away.

here, in this quiet room filled with two people who hadn’t kept you out, who were holding on even when you had nothing left to offer, you realised maybe you didn’t have to keep dying over the same person.

maybe you could start again: with letting people love you even when you didn’t know what to do with it.

you closed your eyes and let yourself rest against the couch. it wasn’t peace yet, but it was something close.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

there were two soft taps against the door you hadn’t opened in days. for a while, you didn’t move. you were still in the clothes you slept in from two nights ago, one sock missing and a smear of clay across your forearm.

the apartment smelled like bergamot and burnt rice; she was always the better cook than you, wasn’t she?

there was a breeze threading through the cracked window and you wanted to believe maybe it had just been a bird. or a neighbour. or nothing. but then again, only one person knocked like she didn’t know if she belonged anymore.

it was only a matter of time; everything always made its way back to the door. you didn’t move to open it right away, letting the silence hang there between the wood and your chest, you thought that maybe if you waited long enough, she would turn around and leave, spare you the final step.

but she didn’t.

you stood slowly, your leg stiff from sitting too long in the same spot. there was a damp towel on the floor, half a piece of toast on the counter and you didn’t bother fixing any of it.

when you opened the door, sophia stood there in a navy coat, damp from the drizzle outside. her fringe clung to her forehead, your eyes travelling down to the ends of her soaked sleeves.

she looked the same, seemingly, everything that had changed between you had never touched her skin.

she stepped in without waiting for an invite. her eyes landed on the folder on the coffee table; the one you hadn’t put away because you couldn’t…because looking at it was easier than pretending it didn’t exist.

she exhaled through her nose. “you saw it.”

you nodded. then, coldly: “you sent your father to do it for you?”

her head snapped up in surprise. “what?”

you didn’t say anything as you watched the weight of it slowly process in her thoughts. her expression cracked; the crease between her brows, the way her eyes darted to the folder again like it might explain itself.

“i didn’t ask him to do that,” she said quickly, breath catching. “i swear, i…he told me he had spoken to you, but i didn’t know he was bringing all of —“

“you could’ve spoken to me yourself,” your voice was level. “but instead, i opened the door and it was him. not you.”

sophia looked like she was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. her lips pressed together, trembling at the corners.

you turned away first, walking slowly back toward the dining table. “he looked at me like i was something you’d finally outgrown.”

“y/n…” you didn’t look at her, standing with one hand on the table’s edge, grounding yourself.

“what did he say?” she asked in a clearer voice, it sounded like her thoughts were catching up. “what did you two talk about?”

you looked at her then and something in your chest pinched. she looked genuinely afraid — of what had been said without her there.

you softened like you always did. “i’m not gonna stand here and bag your dad out in front of you, soph.”

she blinked at the nickname, thinking that you would stop using it. “please?”

“like i said, he brought the divorce papers. told me it’d be better for you to move home. to start fresh without…distractions.”

she looked taken aback, you didn’t let her speak.

“he offered me money, too,” you added, quieter now. “said it was just to help me get back on my feet…but we both know what it meant.”

her hands curled into fists at her sides, jaw clenching. you reached into the drawer beside you and pulled out a pen.

“i didn’t take the money,” you looked at her. “but i’ll sign it.”

her breath caught audibly.

“i’ll sign it now,” you repeated. “i want you to know that you can walk away clean, that you can stop feeling like you owed me something.”

“i never —” her voice broke. “i didn’t think it would come to this.”

“me neither.”

you hadn’t even thought of divorce when you married her. not once and not even as a faraway what-if. because when you looked at sophia — veil slightly crooked and lipstick smudged from a kiss she stole too early — there wasn’t a single part of you that doubted forever.

you thought you would be the one tying her shoelaces when she couldn’t bend down anymore, fight about what colour to repaint the kitchen when you were sixty, be there when her hair turned grey and her hands started to shake. to put it simply, you thought you were going to grow old with her.

she moved closer, slow and unsure, until you could smell the remnants of her perfume, something woody and almost gone.

you forced a small smile. “your family never thought i was good enough. and i guess…they were right. you know that now too, don’t you?”

she didn’t answer. and the silence that followed wasn’t cruel. it was worse than that - it was true.

“but god, i loved you. i loved you so much i would’ve buried every version of myself to match the life they wanted for you,” you sighed and placed the folder back down, gently smoothing the cover. the pen clicked softly in your hand. “all you have to do now is ask me.”

she stepped back like the words physically pushed her. the room grew very still until all you could hear was the tick of the wall clock and your own breath. “i thought i was doing you a favour.”

you let out a bitter laugh under your breath, it was the only thing you had left in you. “what part of this was easy for me?”

she didn’t answer, moving to sit down across from you. her hands trembled a little, fingers pressed to her brow like she was trying to stop her thoughts from unravelling.

you stayed standing, needing the distance. “you don’t have to carry this guilt.”

she looked up, but allowed you to keep going.

“i promised to love every version of you, remember? and i still do. even later, when i’m no longer part of the picture.”

it was like something inside you needed to be said out loud, maybe for the last time. “but if me being gone will stop that ache in your chest that keeps you from sleeping at night — then the least i can offer you is peace.”

she leaned back, lips parted like she was trying to breathe through it; she shook her head once. “you make it sound so final.”

“isn’t it?” you placed the pen on top of the folder and walked past her toward the hallway. your bad leg ached with every step, but you didn’t stop until you reached what you needed to get.

a box. there was something poetic about it; how it could take on the shape of grief without breaking down.

the first frame you pulled down was one from the living room wall: the photo booth strip of the two of you in sydney, half blurry, faces squished together, her lips pressed to your cheek and the last frame just her hand over the lens, laughing too hard. you held it a beat too long before slipping it gently into the box beside your feet, next to the stack of travel postcards, pressed flowers and a sun-faded drawing she once doodled on a napkin and claimed was modern art.

one by one, not even sure what counted anymore — if they were yours, if they were hers, if they belonged to both of you or no one at all. on the table where she sat quietly, your fingers lingered on a strip of film tucked behind a dusty photo frame. the one from siargao; shadows long across the sand, your smile crooked as she clung to your back. you wrapped it in a tea towel and put it at the bottom of the box.

it was quiet again, taut with the weight of things unsaid. from behind, you could hear the hum of the fridge and the uneven drip of the tap you were meant to fix months ago. every sound felt louder in the stillness, as if the world had shrunk to the size of your heartbreak.

“the lease ends in three months,” you began, more to the floor than to her. “i’ll stay until then, pay the complete amount and then i’ll go.”

sophia didn’t answer, hands clasped in front of her like she was trying to stop them from shaking.

“and the studio’s under my name anyway,” you continued, voice dull. “you don’t have to worry about that…it’s sorted.”

you crouched beside the bookshelf next, sifting through more frames, some of her old textbooks and a couple of shared records you hadn’t played in months. there wasn’t much to fight over - she didn’t remember what half of it meant anyway.

“you should keep this one,” you murmured, holding up a small vampire sculpture she had once admired. “you liked it.”

you took a thorough look around the space: ceramic planters you made together, mugs with imperfect handles, old art prints you collected from markets. “we don’t really have much in terms of assets, so you can take whatever you’d like.“

you didn’t hear her approach until she was just behind you. her voice was smaller again, quiet in a way that unsettled you.

“i went through my dad’s safe,” she started. “i don’t know why. i wasn’t even looking for anything, it was open and…i saw your name on a folder and opened it.”

you paused mid-movement, a thin layer of dust on your fingers. she stood beside you.

“there were emails,” she continued, heaving out a sigh. “a lot of them; from him to galleries — fake references, letters, bad things about you.”

the air between you shifted.

“and he had people follow you. like, private investigators. photos of us grocery shopping and eating. it was all documented, he only stopped the year before the accident.”

you swallowed slowly, eyes still fixed on the mess in front of you because you didn’t want to see the look on her face, not when it was laced with guilt you knew would never go away.

“and the worst part,” her voice broke now. “he had you beaten up by some boys. on one of our dates. and you never — never said anything to me — why?”

you nodded once because it had happened. a long time ago. you had always known, it was just strange hearing her confirm it now, after it had already carved itself into you.

your fingers brushed the edge of another photo: wedding day, laughing as someone threw rice, sophia’s arm wrapped around your waist like she would never let go.

she blinked and the tears immediately spilled down. she didn’t bother wiping them. “he ruined your name, your career. and when i chose you, he shut the door on me. they all did.”

“i know,” you mumbled, still. your voice didn’t shake. “i picked up the pieces back then, but you were happy.”

she looked up at you, her eyes were swollen and you felt something ache deeply at the sight. “why didn’t you tell me after i lost my memories?”

you walked to the lounge room and opened another box. “because they’re your family; all you had left to remember. and back then, i thought…i thought if i could just keep loving you quietly enough, maybe i wouldn’t have to make you choose again.”

you smiled sadly, but it didn’t reach anywhere near your eyes. “you chose me once, i wasn’t going to ask you to do it twice.”

she stepped closer. “but i would have.”

“i know — that’s why i didn’t ask.”

the silence between you sat warm and aching. she covered her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook.

“love’s built out of small sacrifices,” you murmured, kneeling beside the record shelf. “not the sort you throw around to prove something. it’s in the choosing; every single day, even when it’s hard.”

you stood up slowly, wiping at your face, your breathing uneven. your body was aching in places you didn’t know could hold grief.

as you reached up to the top shelf, you grabbed the box of vinyls to pack away. the mushroom mug was sitting just beside it; her first anniversary gift, the one with the chipped rim and the painted red toadstools that had faded just slightly after too many runs through the dishwasher.

you tried to move gently, but your hand slipped.

the mug hit the floor and shattered instantly. sharp ceramic splinters spun out across the tiles. you stared at it for a long time, your chest rising and falling too quickly.

sophia gasped behind you, but didn’t move.

“get out,” you said hoarsely, not turning around. “just — get out, sophia.”

her breath got caught in her throat as she tried to figure out what was going through your head.

you didn’t raise your voice. “please, just get out, i need a minute.”

she hesitated, blinking. “y/n —”

“i’ll have the papers in tomorrow.” your voice was a lot quier now. “just go.”

then you heard the quiet rustle of her jacket, the soft scuff of her shoes as she moved toward the door. she paused, maybe expecting you to say something, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you stayed where you were, kneeling on the floor beside the broken mug, your hands in your lap like they didn’t know what to hold anymore.

not everything that shatters makes a sound. but this did. this one really fucking did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end — eutychia’s version

the end — melpomene’s version

[legerescriptor]

Alexander von Humboldt never had an easy life. He was born rich and noble. He was a son of one of the most influential families of his time. Other people his age envied him. Or would have, if they had known him.

He was taught at home. With his brother. Wilhelm von Humboldt was two years older than Alexander. And oh, so much smarter. Alexander hated him.

Wilhelm was the perfect son to their mother. Perfect at learning languages and diplomacy. Perfect in literature and philosophy. Alexander could never keep up.

So he escaped. At first with his father into the forest. Later alone. Because like everyone else, his father had left him alone. Died when Alexander was just nine years old. Left him with a mother that had only disdain for him and a brother who was just so much more perfect than him.

Alexander von Humboldt was alone. His whole life he was alone. And only at night he dared to get out, sit in the grass on the edge of the forest and look up. To where the stars were. He had heard of the sailors that could read them like a map. That could speak with the stars and ask them for advice on where they had to travel next. He wished he could learn it too. He wished that stars could tell him where to go too. And he hoped more than everything that they would tell him to go a far way from here.

Aimé Bonpland didn't grow up rich. He grew up in a small house at the sea. His home was loving, but crowded. He loved his family. But every night when he would stand at the sea, looking over the ocean, see the stars reflect on the water he would wish he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He was happy here. With his family and friends, but he knew there would be more for him. He didn't belong here. He just didn't know where he belonged yet.

And so he went to the military. They were at least traveling. He became a doctor, because he was never good at killing. And he saw parts of the world. Different flora and fauna. He took some plants with him whereever he got to. It calmed him to do so. Plants were peaceful. And they were a reminder that he had gotten away. That he wasn't in this small house at the sea anymore. He had managed to get away.

But still it didn't feel right. He wasn't there yet.

When Alexander von Humboldt and Aimé Bonpland met they were adults. Alexander von Humboldt, finally freed from his family and Aimé Bonpland, a retired military doctor.

Alexander von Humboldt had finally learned to understand the stars and knew he had to go. To a place far away, across the ocean. And Aimé Bonpland had decided to join him. To ease his longing for a different place.

They set out together to fill their longing for a better world. And when they arrived in South America they thought they had found it.

But their past lives didn't let them go. Which Alexander realised as Aimé precisely shot a thief from behind that had tried to beat up Alexander. The man was dead within seconds and Aimé didn't even flinch. Alexander could just stare at him, whispering "Thank you" to which Aimé didn't respond. But he flinched at the touch of Alexanders hand on his shoulder and turned away. They never spoke of it again.

Aimé realised it as he watched Alexander take notes on all of the old languages that they encountered while traveling through the land and how Alexander always hat to start writing at least five different letters before he finished one, the others burning in the fire or thrown into the river. And he realised as he once found Alexander feverish taking notes, barely keeping his eyes open anymore, but still determined to work. Aimé had to force him into bed, all the while saying "It's alright. It doesn't have to be done now. You can do it tomorrow. It doesn't need to be perfect." And Alexander broke down crying, clutching at Aimés shirt, not being able to form a full sentence. And Aimé just held him.

But in a way they had still found a better world. A world in which Alexander could say "I love you" to Aimé and mean it and wouldn't be dragged away because nobody could hear where noone was. And Aimé finally found himself living a life he wanted to life forever. In a world full of plants and at Alex' side.

Alex could see into Aimés eyes and see all the stars and constellations that led him there in the end, hidden beneath the wish to forget what once was. And he held Aimés trembling hand, that knew too much about how to shoot someone with a gun.

Aimé could see into Alex' eyes and watch as Alex' wished to see more of the world. He could have everything he wanted and Aimé wanted nothing more than be able to give it to him. But Alex' was restless. Always wanting to go further. To see more. To live a life in motion.

Aimé had always wanted to calm down one day. And Alex had always wanted get to the next destination the stars could show him.

In one way or another they had everything in each other. And so they parted with one last kiss. One last "I love you". One last promise.

Alex had to go to be happy. And Aimé had to stay. But it was ok. Because Alex had seen the stars in Aimés eyes. And they would always in the end lead him back to him.

“Some people are born with tornados in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea.”

— Perspectives, Nikita Gill

[z0mbbiegvrl]

SHE LIVES IN MY LAP

featuring: nam-gyu x fem!reader

warnings: toxic relationship dynamics, unresolved arguments, emotional manipulation, fear of pregnancy, mention of missed birth control, emotional distress, smoking, hypocritical behavior, unresolved tension, emotional angst. nsfw (fingering, penetrative sex, sex used as a manipulation tactic, soft dom!Namgyu, praise/degradation mix, unsafe sex)

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: a pregnancy scare spirals into another fight, and when Namgyu finally comes back to apologize, it’s with the same mix of tenderness and toxic love that’s kept you both stuck in this cycle for too long.

masterlist link: summer challenge 2025

tags: @carrotheadedtoast @steponupbabe @breakmeoff (as always, dm me or leave a comment if you’d like to be tagged for the rest of this project)

an: eighth day of the summer challenge, hope you guys are enjoying this challenge so far!! thank you for all the attention. hopefully you guys enjoy this one!!

You didn’t mean for it to be a fight.

Just a fact, laid out in the open like a splinter you didn’t know how to pull.

“I thought I was pregnant,” you say quietly, eyes still trained on the negative test, white plastic clenched tight in your fingers.

Namgyu freezes in the hallway, bag slung half off his shoulder, halfway between coming in and bolting out. “You what?”

“I’m not. But I thought I was,” you repeat, softer this time, like that would make it hurt less. “Guess it was just a stomach flu.”

His laugh is dry, scoff-like. Not amused, just done. “Jesus Christ. Are you serious right now?”

You flinch. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, fuck that. You didn’t mean? Were you even taking your pills?” His voice spikes, not yelling, but each word slicing. “Or were you just fucking around, hoping I’d handle it like I always do?”

You can’t breathe for a second. “I forgot a few—what the hell do you mean ‘like you always do’?”

“You’re careless,” he snaps, dropping his bag with a loud thud. “And selfish. You always want to play house, but you don’t even think shit through.”

“I’m selfish? You don’t even wear a condom. You never have. So don’t you dare put this all on me.”

You hadn’t yelled. You barely said it above a whisper. But it hit him in the face.

He stared at you. Then shook his head, scoffing like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity. “Unbelievable.”

“You think I got here alone?” your voice cracked. “You cum inside me every time and then act like it’s just my fault?”

Namgyu didn’t respond. He just turned, jaw clenched, and stormed out to the balcony. You heard the click of the sliding door, then the flick of his lighter.

Everything hurt. Your body. Your pride. The fact that the test was negative. The fact that you’d been relieved.

The fact that he didn’t even stay.

Your hands were still shaking when you threw it in the trash. You didn’t know what scared you more—the thought of being pregnant or the part of you that had almost hoped you were. Something to force it to stop. Or start. Or mean something. You’re left alone, sitting on the bed in just your t-shirt, a lump in your throat so big you think you might choke on it. You curl onto your side and cry, cheeks hot with shame and heartbreak.

Thirty minutes passed before the door creaked open again. You didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

The bed dipped behind you, and then arms—warm and familiar—wrapped around your waist. His face buried into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “I was scared. I shouldn’t’ve said that. I was just… scared.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you,” he murmured. “I-fuck. I always do this. I always ruin it.”

You hiccup a breath, eyes swollen. “You made me feel like shit.”

“I know, baby, I know…” He kisses your cheek, then your temple, then your jaw. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.” His lips pressed along your jaw, soft and frantic, desperate like he thought you'd disappear.

His hand comes up to cup your breast through the shirt. Slow. Familiar. Like he knows every curve, every soft place. He kneads gently, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, and you hate how much you still want him.

“You know, I love you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m a fucking idiot. Even when I don’t say it right. I love you.”

His hand slid up your shirt, palming your chest. “You’re so perfect,” he said softly, thumbs brushing over your nipples. “So fucking good for me. So perfect… even when you’re being a dumb little brat about your pills.”

You whimpered, legs shifting under him, and he groaned low in his throat like it was killing him. “Namgyu—”

“Shh. I’m kidding,” he lies. He’s not. “Can I make it up to you?” he asked against your skin. “Let me show you, baby. Let me love you.”

You nodded, barely.

His hand slides down your stomach, tugging up the shirt until he’s rubbing you over your panties. “Look at you. So wet already,” he breathes, voice husky. “You love it when I fuck you after a fight, don’t you?”

You can’t answer. Not when his fingers slide under the fabric and slip between your folds.

“Say it,” he whispers as he sinks two fingers inside you. “Say you love it.”

“I… I love it,” you choke out, barely able to think.

He fucks you slowly with his fingers, curling them just right. “Tight fucking pussy..”

You moan, hips rocking back into him as your walls flutter around his knuckles. 

“God, you feel good…” You could feel him slowly grinding his hard bulge against your ass as his fingers prodded at that gummy spot within you. “My dumb girl. Can’t take a pill, but look how sweet you are.”

“Namgyu-” You barely gasped out as your thighs flexed around his hand, clenching around him, gasping his name, and he kissed you breathless as you came, your body twitching in his arms.

“That’s my sweet girl.” He praises you, working through it.

When he finally pulls his hand away, he shifts you onto your back and climbs over you. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get a condom.

He never does.

“Gonna fuck you slow,” he mutters, tugging your panties down and shoving into you in one deep, aching stroke. “Know you love that sweet shit.” His thick cock stretching you open, even after all the times together, you never quite got used to it.

His hand gripped the headboard as he moved, slow and deliberate. Your arms were tight around his neck, your legs around his waist. His pace is unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world to ruin you gently. The sweetness of it almost resembles how it was when you slept with him for the first time, before everything got hard. 

You arch your back, clinging to his shoulders. “Namgyu…”

“I love you,” he groans into your ear, breath warm. “Even when I hate you. Even when we’re like this.” He reaches down between your sweat-slick bodies, thumbing at your clit.

“Come on, baby.” He begged, sucking hickey marks on your neck. “I need it…Need to feel you cum on my cock.”

You can’t tell if you’re crying again or just overwhelmed. Your moans got more choked up, breathless until it finally crashed over you. Gushing all over his thick cock, legs tightening around his waist. Namgyu fucked you through it, petting your head almost mockingly as praise and degradation fell from his pouty lips.

He buried himself deep when he came, letting out a broken sound in your neck, his whole body trembling. No condom. No second thought.

Just like always.

You didn’t talk much after. You just lay there, tangled and quiet, his breath in your hair, his hand on your hip. Silently, Namgyu pulled out of you, taking his shirt off to clean himself and then you off. You could see him staring at his cum dripping out of your twitching cunt. He smiled before lying next to you, pulling you in for a cuddle. When you finally fell asleep, it was the safest you’d felt all week.

And when you woke up, he was gone.

The sheets were cold.

Your phone buzzed with a text:

Namgyu

Had to run. I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.

You stared at the screen, chest hollow, and set the phone down without replying.

It always ended like this.

The circle resets.

You pull the blanket over your head.

And wait.

[hoondrop]

could u do sub Sunghoon?

I’m feral for sub hoon but not many write for him and I’m also obsessed with all your works 🙏

a/n: I used to think I was a raging sub until I fell in love with beomgyu and started biasing him in 2021.. but still I was confused. but thanks to him, I can picture submissive idols and I just love it 🫶🏻 here's subby hoonie bcs as much as we love dom hoon, there's smth abt him being a desperate needy pretty boy that makes us crazy 🫶🏻 thank you for enjoying my works and I hope you enjoy this too mwah 🫶🏻

He’s been watching you all evening, ever since you stepped out of the bathroom in that tight little black dress, heels clicking against the floor, perfume hanging in the air like a trap.

Sunghoon hasn’t said much. He just sits on the edge of the bed, shirt still unbuttoned, pants strained around his thighs, hands gripping the sheets like he’s physically holding himself back. His eyes follow every movement you make, shamelessly dragging over your cleavage, the curve of your waist, the way your thighs peek out when you shift in the mirror.

You know that look. He’s already gone.

“We’re going to be late,” you say, adjusting your earring.

“I don’t care,” he breathes, voice barely stable. “Fuck the reservation.”

You turn slowly, tilting your head, lips curling into a soft smile. “You gonna act like a brat the whole time at dinner too?”

He shakes his head immediately, standing and walking toward you like he’s in a daze. His fingers twitch by his sides like he wants to touch you but knows he needs permission. You love that. The way he waits for it.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmur, stepping close, letting your lips brush his jaw.

His breath hitches. “I wanna taste you.”

You raise a brow. “Use your words properly, baby.”

“I—I want your pussy,” he stammers. “Please, I want my mouth on it. I need to feel you on my tongue, I’ll do anything—just let me have it. Please, I need it so bad.”

You hum in amusement and slowly slide your hand up the side of his neck, fingers curling around his jaw. His lips part automatically, eyes already going glassy.

“You’re so fucking desperate,” you whisper, biting his lip gently. “You gonna be good for me if I let you taste? No whining when I tell you to stop?”

He nods quickly. “Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you say, I swear.”

“Get on your knees then.”

He drops so fast it’s pathetic.

You hike your dress up slowly, revealing the thin black lace panties beneath, and he moans just seeing them, already pressing kisses to your thighs like he’s worshipping at an altar.

“Take it off with your teeth,” you say softly, tone firm and loving. “Show me how much you want this.”

He obeys instantly, eyes locked on yours as he hooks his tongue beneath the band and slowly pulls them down. The second the lace hits the floor, he groans, mouth already hovering over your soaked heat, lips brushing your folds like he can’t decide where to start.

“Go on then,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. “Make me proud.”

He moans again and dives in, tongue flattening against your pussy with a need that borders on desperate. He licks you slowly at first; broad, reverent strokes, savoring every bit of wetness, breathing you in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

“God, you taste so good,” he whimpers against you. “So sweet—fuck—I missed this.”

You rock your hips against his face and smile darkly. “Of course you did. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

He nods, tongue flicking over your clit, sucking gently, and then moaning when you tug his hair just enough to make him whimper.

“Keep going,” you order. “Don’t stop until my thighs are shaking. Don’t you dare cum until I say so.”

“I won’t—I promise—I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you,” he babbles, tongue diving back into your pussy like he’s starved, fingers gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

You start to tremble under his mouth, moaning openly now as his tongue works faster... sloppier, wetter.. your slick smeared over his chin, his nose buried against your clit as he eats you like a man possessed.

“There you go,” you pant. “Just like that. You’re such a good boy for me. So perfect on your knees.”

He whines at the praise, nodding frantically as he sucks your clit harder, flicking the sensitive nub until your knees buckle and your orgasm hits like a wave, shuddering through your whole body as you cry out and grind against his face.

He doesn’t stop. Not until you tug him off by his hair, and he finally looks up, eyes glassy, lips swollen, his entire face soaked in your arousal.

You smirk. “Look at you,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over his cheek. “Messy little thing.”

He nods again, licking his lips, still breathless. “I’ll clean it all. Don’t waste any of it, please.”

You laugh softly and tilt his chin up.

“You earned it tonight. But next time…” You lean in close, lips brushing his ear. “You wait until we get home."

And the way he shudders just from that tells you he’ll wait as long as you want.

[tommysparkles]

ohh can I have 48. …out of habit. for BT for the kiss meme 🙏

Yes!! I love it. Also, sorry, this ended up way longer than intended. They always do, lol.

"....and I got out of the helicopter and this kid is just looking at me like I'm the coolest thing he's ever seen," Tommy's saying with a smile on his face that Buck is no longer supposed to find adorable.

Or can he? Can you find your ex-boyfriend's smile adorable after you've agreed to just be friends? He's not really sure, but he supposes he'll just...not let anyone know he does. Yeah. He'll be cool and composed about the fact that he hates that he and Tommy are just friends.

"Too bad that kid doesn't know how very much not cool you actually are," Buck teases.

Tommy laughs. "Hey!"

"Oh, Tommy," Hen says with a good-natured smile. "Remember the old 118 days? You forget we've seen you at 4 am, without caffeine."

Yeah, Buck has too; they're not special.

Then he mentally slaps himself. Stop that.

The friends thing is fairly new, after all, so Buck tries not to be too hard on himself. And the reasons that Tommy suggested it were all perfectly reasonable, after, well everything, but Buck is sitting next to him in this booth, remembering how nights like this used to end with one of them going home with the other, cuddling, sex, and whispered words...

He's shaken from his reverie when Tommy bumps his shoulder, shooting him a concerned look while Eddie, Hen and Chimney are all giving him expressions that are far too knowing for his liking.

"You okay?" Tommy asks sincerely.

"Yeah," Buck answers, trying to be as casual as he can. "Yeah, I'm good."

Tommy doesn't look like he completely believes him, but lets it go. "Okay, well, I should head out. Thanks for the invite, guys. Cute kid notwithstanding, it's been a weird week."

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, toasting him with his beer bottle. "We're glad you could make it. You good to get home?"

Tommy waves him away. "Ordered an Uber."

Huh. Buck hadn't noticed that.

Before he can think too much on it, though, Tommy leans in, and, almost without thinking, plants a sweet kiss on Buck's mouth.

Tommy seems to realize what he's done the second they make contact. He freezes and so does Buck. The whole table is absolutely silent.

Then Tommy's pulling away, mumbling about needing to go, and he's out of the booth like there's a fire at his ass. It's probably a good thing he was on the end, because he might have literally pushed someone out to get out of the bar.

Tommy's gone and Buck looks at everyone else.

"What?" he says nonsensically.

He watches as Eddie sighs and turns to Hen and Chim. "Is it time to make it known that they're both idiots, or...?"

Hen sighs. "Buck, if you don't go after him, we're all going to throw something at you. In fact, I will go to Harbor and throw something at Tommy too."

Buck is out of the booth like a shot, following in Tommy's wake. When he gets outside, he panics for a moment, thinking that the Uber Tommy ordered must have come already, but he spots him off to the side of the parking lot like he's doing his best to hide and Buck rushes over.

"Tommy!"

When Tommy sees him, a look of panic crosses his face, but he doesn't move. Buck takes that as a good sign.

"Please," Buck says breathlessly. "Don't go."

"Evan," Tommy says, sounding a little desperate. "God, I'm so sorry. It...I just did it...it felt like it made sense at the time. I wasn't thinking-"

"Tommy," Buck breaks in. "Kiss me again."

Tommy stops talking, blinks at him like a very large owl. Buck thinks he's ridiculously cute. Again.

"What?" Tommy asks.

Buck walks toward him, close enough that either one of them could reach out and grab the other by the hips, just like they used to. He doesn't touch him, though; this feels like a make-or-break moment and, God, Buck wants to make it.

"Kiss me," Buck whispers. "Please."

Tommy only hesitates for a moment before he cups Buck's face and leans in for a soft kiss.

Buck puts his hands on his hips, kisses him back and revels in the taste of the nachos and craft beer and just the pure taste of Tommy.

He's missed it so much.

When they break away, it's like a mutual decision, leaning their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

"I know that I said I wanted to be friends," Tommy says softly. "But, I just...don't know if I can do that."

"Me neither," Buck answers. "I agreed to it because I thought that's the only way I could get you."

Tommy's laugh is rueful. "And I suggested it because I didn't want to pressure you after everything that happened."

Buck shrugs. "Sometimes it's okay to pressure me a little.

Tommy grins. "Yeah?"

Buck can't help it, leans in and kisses him again. "Yeah."

"Uber's on the way," Tommy says. "I-uh-didn't actually order it until I got out here. I was trying to be cool with you in there, but then I kissed you like I'd been picturing and--"

Buck looks at him in surprise. "You were picturing kissing me?"

"Evan, I accidentally kissed you in front of everyone," Tommy points out. "I picture kissing you all the time."

Buck laughs and shakes his head. They really are both so stupid. "Can I come with you? We can talk?"

Tommy thinks about this. "And kiss some more?"

Buck shrugs, knows he isn't actually projecting the nonchalance he doesn't feel. "If you play your cards right."

Tommy kisses his forehead. "I'll do my best."

Buck squeezes him tight. "I know you will."

[sillywillylils]

back at it again with the lighthouse… seeing the jump of words by 10k makes me shiver with excitement and dread. i first read it was published and then i reread for the giggles and for heartbreak and the now rework is finally in my arms and prepared to shatter me…. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS, now prepare to be sick of me again.

“You knew that traveling to the surface was forbidden, but you couldn’t help the way that it called to you deep in the depths of the sea. Like a moth to a flame” so this is actually me, i’m already immersed

“Still, you watched and watched for what seemed like hours” i understand this heavily, the way you long for something and see other people easily have it, you observe and sometimes don’t even really think

“Landwalker’s buildings were already tall as it is, but this one was completely different. It pierced through the sky with a beacon of light shining from the top—almost like a second sun being held up. Your eyes widened as you drew closer, ducking behind some rocks as you surveyed the area” fun fact this is actually rare footage of me seeing sunghoon for the first time ever and being pulled in like a siren

“muscles straining against his rolled up sleeves and brows furrowed, the more you noticed him” just did my iconic face just an fyi and a big iykyk

“Dusk fell and a cold breeze swept up the shore from the waters. You had spent the whole day again watching the man work at what you now knew was called a lighthouse” okay so take my heart already, this fic has destroyed it multiple times

“Sunghoon, that was his name. You tried his name on your tongue. ‘Sung… hoon…’ you spoke softly before smiling. ‘Pretty’” the truest and rawest reaction to the existence of this man, oh i yearn for sunghoon

“‘Why do you ask?’ your Elder asked, her red hair rippling in the water” ariel what are you doing here

“She smiled at you, ‘Thank you for looking out for the little ones. You’d make a good addition to the council one day’” i mean…. it happened but just not in the way you’d think, at least parting from the sea is no longer a far fetched thought

“They were wearing a large sewn cloak of seaweed that covered their face, but you could still see their bright, shifting orange scales. Something about their tail looked off. There were patches that were smoother than others and completely rid of scales. It almost looked… sickly” fight or flight right about now and book it out of there

“Your opened your mouth to speak, but they cut you off. ‘My wise advice for you—don’t. End this search for the sea witch, now’” sorry guys that was me trying to gatekeep the lighthouse sunghoon

“Pushing away from the shelf, the witch stepped towards you. Her tattered dress was ripped at the hems at multiple points so pieces of fabric hung from it and dragged along the stone floor. When she moved, the shells, sticks, and pearls she wore clacked together in an alluring harmony. It reminded you a little of the sea. She bent down at the edge of the pool so she was eye level with you, her messy hair fanning around her face” KIPO your way of describing is absolutely amazing, it’s the way i can visually see it like wow

“‘In one month’s time, you must cut out the beating heart of the human you love the most and bring it to me’ The sea witch slowly leaned away from you, her eyes remaining on yours. ‘If you don’t fulfill your end of the deal, you will never walk on land again and you will never swim in the recesses of the ocean again either. You will instead turn to seafoam and be nevermore. That is your price, guppy’” how do i break the news to both of them….

the descriptions you gave during her transitioning from mermaid to human was beautiful. the way you showed the rawness and not sugarcoated version is amazing. i can feel her emotions and the way everything was suddenly happening during the storm as she was emerging.

“What if it was his heart you cut out?” how do i cut out my own heart to make sure sunghoon in unharmed

“You didn’t feel graceful, you felt forsaken. This was a journey of death, not rebirth” THIS IS AMAZING THIS SENTENCE ALONE IS GORGEOUS

“You looked up at the full moon, glowing and huge. It looked like a pearl hung in the sky.” PERAL? PERAL YOU SAY OH NOOOOOOOOOO

“With skin the slightest bit tinted blue and with slightly webbed hands, you almost looked… human—but, more ethereal and beautiful than anything Sunghoon has ever seen in his entire life. You were prettier than any Gibson Girl appearance the women of the village sported by far” IM GOING TO CRY DONT DO THIS TO ME PLEASE

“He got as comfortable as he could on the armchair and yawned once again. Sunghoon closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep” HIM IN THE ARM CHAIR MAKES MY HEART BREAK LIKE HE’S RIGHT NEXT TO MC JUST TO WATCH OVER HER INSTEAD OF GOING TO BED

“He really was beautiful. Your brows knitted together as the tips of your fingers dragged down his cheek. Did all humans look like him?” no but i wish… hey where’s the sea witch again..? i have a question to ask for a friend…

“You took a wobbly step back and nearly fell onto the table if it hadn’t been for Sunghoon jumping up from his chair and quickly reaching out and grabbing your waist to steady you” i would ask what are we right then and there

“You could see the way his body heated up and the redness that creeped up his neck and tinted his cheeks pink. It made him look even prettier. He took the pillow from behind him and pressed it down in his lap” what are you hiding under there hoonie?

this is so off topic but mia and sebastian’s theme JUST started playing through my headphones when he realizes she’s a mermaid and they are interacting for the first time… i need to take a minute

“Naked? How were you naked? Most of your pearls were still in your hair and your hair was relatively decent still. You were completely dressed” she’s so cute i’m going to cry

“Sunghoon quirked a brow, chuckling, ‘What? Are you gonna eat me or something?’ You stayed silent” and if tell you in an alternate universe you are singing about this very thing

“Sunghoon smiled brightly at you. ‘Now, what’s your name, darling?’” NOW I HAVE TO BREAK DOWN SOBBING DONT DO THIS TO ME :((( sunghoon + darling= soul shattering

“‘I can’t argue with that, sweetheart’ Sunghoon spoke, the smile still lingering on his face. He had teeth that looked like little fangs and it reminded you a lot of the merfolk back home” petition to have sunghoon become a merman BUT THE NAME?:!$,!,8

“Sunghoon grabbed your elbow and gently pulled you away from the siding so that you could face him. He wanted to see the excitement seep through every crevice of your face and the way your eyes lit up. He wanted to experience it with you” and if i break down crying then i will be the problem

“You pressed more into Sunghoon’s side and he wrapped his arm around your waist” YUPPPP I KNOW THATS RIGHT

“You looked back at him with wide, fearful eyes. ‘It’ll be okay’ he assured you, grabbing your hand. ‘I’ll be right here waiting for you’” take a piece of my heart and rip it out why don’t you

“‘It gets easier, dear. When it’s all over, you come and find me, you hear?’” DEARRRR MYYYYY IM BROKEN DONT LIE TO ME

“‘Well, you can wear it all however you like when we’re back on the island, sweetheart’ said Sunghoon, stepping towards you. He took your hands in his and smiled at you” i’m breaking down he’s so so so so sweet

“His lips felt perfect on yours and yours on his. It was as if they were made for each other and you never wanted to spend another moment not kissing Sunghoon” this is actually so real because i would never want to not be kissing that man

“‘And what if I like the pain—the danger?’ Sunghoon asked you quietly. ‘What if I want to get hurt by you?’” GAGGED STRAIGHT UP GAGGED

“You didn’t want the sea witch to have his pure heart. She didn’t deserve it. And you felt like you didn’t deserve it either” the absolute BAR that you just dropped right now kipo is INSANE

“‘You feeling better today, my pearl?’ Sunghoon asked you gently” my pearl. my pearl? MY PEARL

“Sunghoon leaned across the small table towards you, tilting his head. His lips were inches from yours. In a loving voice, he added, ‘Like sweetheart, or darling, or baby…’” i will send this man personally into orbit. DO NOT TEST ME

“‘I'm glad that you came in. I actually can’t sleep that well during storms’ Sunghoon said. You looked up at him and you could almost make out his face. ‘And your presence is always a welcome one. Makes me feel calmer’” WAIT does this mean the night mc rolled up on the shore he wasn’t already having a good sleep? does he sleep well on the chair because she’s there as he watched over her during the first night? i’m unwell

“‘Let me warm you up then, my love’ Sunghoon chuckled, pressing warm kisses to your cold cheeks” IM SO SICK DONT DO THIS TO ME THIS IS HURTING MY HEART SO BADLY

“Sunghoon froze when he saw you on his bed, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. You looked like an angel descended from the heavens just for him and he wondered to himself how he got to be so lucky to witness your beauty like this. He watched as the flickering light bathed you in warm hues and made your hair glitter with all of the pearls strung in it. You smiled at him shyly, your gaze casting down for a moment before looking back up at him. You looked so beautiful that it truly took Sunghoon’s breath away; and it took him a couple shaky inhales to realize he was just standing in the middle of the room and gaping at you” THIS WHOLE PARAGRAPH HAD MY HEART TWEAKING BECAUSE WHAT, it made me feel fuzzy and warm

“both of your hearts had fallen in sync with each other—at least, just for the moment where the two of you shared everything. From your body to his, the two of you were finally one” no one talk to me. i’m too sensitive for this

“It felt like your bodies were made for each other—like the two of you were made for each other” OH YEAH. THIS. IM I CANT. it feels so pure

“He leaned down to kiss you. ‘My pearl’ Sunghoon whispered affectionately before kissing you again” i am SICK. SICK I FREAKING TELL YOU.

“you noticed how Sunghoon looked at you—how he always looked at you. It was full of love and hope and yearning” say it with me a man who yearns is a man who earns (well in this case, a man who yearns is a man who becomes seafoam)

“You made his heart race and race until he was sure it would go jumping out of his chest and into your gentle awaiting hands” DONT DO THIS TO ME BRO.

“and he would gladly get burned by your heat if that meant he could be with you” THE MENTION OF MOTH TO A FLAME SOBS, like a mothhhhh to a flameeeeee

“‘I love you’ Sunghoon finally breathed. ‘I love you so much that it’s too much to contain. It spills out of me like uncontrollable rivers. I could tell you over and over and it still wouldn’t be enough—I love you, I love you, I love you!’” going to search up on google how to be this loved by this man, no borax no glue and no sea witch

“‘I love you’ you told him, like you had discovered the secrets to the world and it all lied within him. ‘You paint all of my skies the most saturated colors of blue like I've never seen before. You’re the air in my lungs and the beating of my heart—oh, I love you so much!’” THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT the way they describe their love for each other so beautifully and such correlation to the sea and sky makes me cry

“‘You're crying, my pearl? Why are you sad?’ he asked you gently, pulling you away from him so he could see your face” AND WHAT IF I JUST BANISH EVERYONE AND IMPLODE THEN NO MORE SADNESS

“‘Why did you think I'd let you sacrifice yourself for me?’ Sunghoon asked. As if he’d let you do such a ridiculous thing. He would rather carve out his heart himself and throw it to the sea if it meant you could keep the life you dreamed of” I JUST STARTED UGLY CRYING. MITSKI AND THIS MOMENT WAS TOO MUCH FOR MY HEART TO HANDLE IM NOT MEANT FOR THIS

“You had taken some of the pearls from your hair and sewn them onto the hat that Sunghoon always wore; he even let you weave some of them into the strands of his hair” a just felt a stab to my heart and the knife TWISTING the more i read

“‘I love you, my pearl’ Sunghoon kissed the corner of your mouth” how badly my heart just churned in itself like what the heck

“‘I’ll be back!’ you exclaimed through a laugh” why do i have a bad feeling about this

“He told you of how one day, you and another would exchange them on the day you were to be wed and the pearl would be the foremost adornment with all of the other pearls in your hair” MY JAW DROPPED

“you opened your mouth to explain more to Sunghoon but he was already taking your hair between his fingers” orbiting into the sun or the deep sea at full speed no hesitation

“Breaking from his lips, you smirked at him before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom” time for the best freak show yet

“Above you, you saw the water ripple like something was dropped in. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it if not for the feeling against your tail. You stopped swimming and twisted to look behind you. Shock filled you and your eyes widened. Sunghoon swam towards you, clothes flowing in the water as he got closer” NO NO NO

NO NOT AGAIN WHY DO I PUT MYSELF THROUGH THIS PAIN EVERYTIME (it’s because this fic is just too good)

“Looking down, you gasped and bubbles of air floated towards the surface. Lodged in Sunghoon's chest was a knife with blood rapidly coming from it. You shook your head at him, brows knitting together in anguish, and Sunghoon just nodded” OH MY LAWD I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE IM TAKIMG A LAP AROUND BEFORE PLUNGING HEAD FIRST INTO THE WATER

“‘It's not a life I want if it isn’t with you’ you cried, removing your hands from the hilt and pressing them to his wound. Your hands were stained but the blood wouldn’t stop”

“Sunghoon took your hands in his, ‘It’s not a world I want to live in if you’re not by my side, my pearl’”

THE ENTIRE SCENE SEQUENCE. i am not okay and i am not the same because what the heck. the way that the deem life or even the world not enough if they’re not by each other’s side JUST TAKE ME INSTEAD AND LET THEM BE HAPPY

“Let her take your heart, so long as she doesn’t touch his” real

“While the law searches the tiny island to figure out what came of the lighthouse keeper, they find a picture of a woman with pearls in her hair—similar to the pearls found in the lighthouse keeper’s hair—and shifting blue scales. The picture and the scales were hidden in a pocket close to his chest and free from any blood. The woman was never found and the villagers have no recollection of her—despite the various photographs around the lighthouse keeper’s small home” WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD AND WHY AM I UGLY CRYING LIKE WHAT THE HECK I KNEW THE OUTCOME WHY AM I STILL AFFECTED BY THIS

“Through the breaking light of the dawn, it is said you can see two souls turn to one” THEY’RE ALIVE AND HAPPY, THE LIVE NEAR THE BEACH AND VISIT THE LIGHTHOUSE TO TAKE CARE OF IT I SCREAM AS I AM DRAGGED BACK TO THE PADDED ROOM

can i just mention that when mc makes the comment that she is fully clothed and not naked due to the pearls still weaved into her hair in the beginning and towards the end where she gives all by one of her pearls to sunghoon from weaving it into his hat and hair meaning that she had her walls up to protect herself when she first washed up but after falling in love with sunghoon, she stripped herself bare to show the pure beauty of love and how she accepts him into her world? yeah okay.

KIPO you did it again. no matter how many times i read this fic, it still hits like the first time i read it. IM DISTRAUGHT TO THE POINT OF NO RETURN. it shatters my soul every time like the way they become together even though mc withers away and sunghoon remains. their soul weaves together.

the way you wrote everything down to the storyline, to the details, to the love. it made me feel like i was watching a movie where i knew the fated ending and still couldn’t bring myself to rip myself away from it. you did absolutely amazing as always and everytime my heart hurts when i remember this fic.

as always thank you so much for writing this wondering heartbreaking fic. it’s absolutely heart shattering and i cannot bring myself to not read it again and again and ugly cry everytime. the lighthouse holds a special place in my heart always. i cannot wait for what else you have in store and i know no on else is ready for what is being cooked up for wips

much love to you- l.p

ˋ 𑁍 ⨾ THE LIGHTHOUSE

the land has always been something you desperately wished you could walk on. be like the humans and walk among them. one dark and stormy night, you are granted your wish—but, it comes with a deadly price. and you only have one month to decide if you’re willing to pay it.

❛ 박성훈 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ 𓈒𓈒 ❨ 歌 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ❩ 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗎, 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒, 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝟣𝟫𝟢𝟢𝗌 𝖺𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗑𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾／𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 ✴︎ 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩／𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘶𝘣／𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 (𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥), 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳), 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 (𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭), 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨), 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢?, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 (𝘰𝘯 ＆ 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦) 𓏸 25,6OO ╱ 𝓶. list

( 𝓷 )。 the rework for the lighthouse is finally here aaaa!!! i hope that you love this story as much as i do ♡♡♡ hehe~~ i still very vividly remember going into a deep dive about lighthouses and lighthouse keepers and watching a four hour documentary about them lmao… i hope you all enjoy all of the new scenes and such!! ♡

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ ASKS APPRECIATED!

You knew that traveling to the surface was forbidden, but you couldn’t help the way that it called to you deep in the depths of the sea. Like a moth to a flame, you swam and swam until you could feel the bright sun on your wet skin. Until you could hear the sound of the waves crashing onto the nearby rocks and the distant chatter of the village nearby.

It filled you with such profound longing and want that the only thing that helped ease the feeling was to watch the way the landwalkers went about their days. You watched as giggling landwalking guppies darted from place to place and under their parent’s legs. As people shouted to passersby about the wares they were selling and people walking arm in arm.

You made sure you were always carefully hidden behind some rocks so that you weren’t seen and that your dark blue shifting tail blended nicely with the water. Still, you watched and watched for what seemed like hours.

You wondered what it felt like to be able to walk on land, to feel the rocky surface beneath your feet. Does it hurt? How does one stay upright? Is land walking to the landwalkers the same as swimming to the merfolk? These were all questions you desperately wanted to know the answers to.

Swimming away from the village’s edge, you waded through the fog along the ocean’s surface. You were just about to dive when a flickering light in the distance caught your eye. Cautiously, you decided to see what it was.

Landwalker’s buildings were already tall as it is, but this one was completely different. It pierced through the sky with a beacon of light shining from the top—almost like a second sun being held up. Your eyes widened as you drew closer, ducking behind some rocks as you surveyed the area.

It was on a small island of its own, not too far away from the island the village sat on, but far enough that you’d have to swim for a short while to get from island to island. The building was white and a deep red color like coral on the seafloor. You stared in amazement at it, climbing up onto the rock to get a better look. A tiny building was attached to the bottom of it that looked like it had seen much better days. It was beautiful, you’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Movement in your peripheral had your head snapping in its direction. The door of the small attached building swung open and a man carrying a box stepped out of it, the hat he was wearing nearly slipping off of his head and exposing his dark locks of hair blowing in the crisp wind. You ducked down on the rock a little, making sure that you were covered by the fog. He sat the box down near the entrance of the building just as a loud sound had you jumping out of your scales.

It was a deep, almost guttural sound. You tried to look for the source of it and saw that it came from the large horn near the small building. Birds flew from their perches to a quieter place and you slid off the rock, drawing nearer to the shore.

Your father’s warnings rang deep inside you, yet you tried to push his words down. Don’t go near the surface, my child. The dangerous landwalkers will lure you in and capture you so that you are never seen ever again. They cannot be trusted. They will bottle your song and use it for their wrongdoings.

You hid behind some more rocks and watched him work. He kept disappearing into the small building and if you looked up, you could almost see him between the flickering light. If he wasn’t inside, he was out tidying the area around where he worked—stacking and fixing various things. Occasionally, he would also look out to the sea, seemingly monitoring the waves and the fog before scribbling something down in what you think was called a book. When he did, you sunk down into the water until only your eyes and the top of your head was above the surface.

What interested you the most was how the man seemed to be alone. Why was he so far away from the rest of the landwalkers? What made him different? What was this building that he was working on? You had so many questions and so little answers—and nobody to ask.

You couldn’t tell any of your people that you watched the landwalkers daily. You would get into an enormous amount of trouble and would never be able to see the surface again. You didn’t want that to happen, and you couldn’t bear the thought of it. Especially with your newfound fixation on the lonely landwalker.

Instead, day after day, you watched the man work—no longer so curious about the ventures of the village landwalkers. The more you watched him work, muscles straining against his rolled up sleeves and brows furrowed, the more you noticed him. He was very handsome in a landwalker sort of way, the most beautiful out of them you’ve seen thus far. You wondered if he had a life outside of this building on the shore. Perhaps it was back in the small house a short walk away from the shore? Was his whole life on this tiny island?

You suppose you wouldn’t mind a life of solitude if you were him. Busy life in the village seemed to be overwhelming after a while. Maybe he thought the same way you did.

Dusk fell and a cold breeze swept up the shore from the waters. You had spent the whole day again watching the man work at what you now knew was called a lighthouse. He was wiping the attached building of the lighthouse down after the recent rainstorm, frustratingly muttering under his breath.

You noticed that he didn’t talk much, only a simple, quiet word here or there. At first, you thought he couldn’t speak at all, until now.

“Shit!” he hissed as he threw the rag down onto the ground. The paint was starting to peel off of the siding on the building from the harsh winds and water. “Now I’m gonna have to paint this whole building again.”

You giggled at his reaction. Your giggle must’ve been too loud because his head snapped in your direction and you quickly sunk down behind the rocks. This was dangerous, you knew that, and it already seemed that you were getting too comfortable being out in the open. Yet, you giggled to yourself more, more quietly this time as bubbles rippled up from the water. The man’s brows furrowed but he just shook his head a little. You slowly rose to the surface just as he spoke again. “Come on, Sunghoon. Don’t start losing it now,” he murmured.

Sunghoon, that was his name. You tried his name on your tongue. “Sung… hoon…” you spoke softly before smiling. “Pretty.”

The light at the top of the lighthouse burned brightly against the darkening sky, signaling that it was past the time for you to start swimming home. You turned and began swimming away from the shore, starting your journey.

Something sat heavily in the pit of your stomach and it was beginning to weigh you down. It was that same longing and want, this time more pronounced and refusing to be swallowed and digested. You stopped swimming and stared up at the bright, almost full moon in the sky.

You would give anything to walk on land, to experience life as a landwalker does and be on land. You didn’t want to be confined to the sea anymore. You didn’t want to have a tail anymore—you wanted legs. You wanted to be a landwalker, not a mermaid.

Your heart racing, an old story your father once told you interrupted your thoughts. The story of a young mermaid trading her tail for landwalker’s legs.

It was supposed to be a cautionary tale, one to ward off small merfolk from intermingling with the landwalkers, but to you, it was an answer. One you were desperate for. The tale talked about how the mermaid visited a sea witch deep down in a cave at the bottom of the ocean and begged her to change her tail for legs.

The witch and her struck a deal: the mermaid was to sacrifice four of her pearlescent scales in exchange for a week on land. During said week, the mermaid had to find the witch various hard-to-find ingredients and bring it back to her by the end of it. If she didn’t fulfill her end of the deal after the week was up, her tail would come back and she would never be able to have legs again. Only, swimming would not be as easy or as painless as it once was.

You made your decision. You were going to find the sea witch and strike a deal with her the same way the mermaid from the story did. What were a few scales and ingredients when you could finally walk on land? Finally have your dreams become reality?

Your next course of action was to find out information on where the sea witch’s cave could be.

Instead of spending your time up at the surface, you instead kept beneath the water. You asked your family and Elders about the sea witch in subtle ways, blaming your questions on your curiosity and love of storytelling. As days passed, the information you were provided pushed you more and more into the direction you were hoping for.

You had first gone to one of your Elders, a sweet and wondering smile spread across your face. You had asked her about the sea witch and her cave and about the mermaid who made a deal with her, trying to see if there was anything else to the story.

“Why do you ask?” your Elder asked, her red hair rippling in the water. Her voice was gentle, but cautious. Her gaze flicked over to you when you asked and you saw her eyes widen the slightest bit. You honeyed your smile.

“Well, its just so many little guppies take their curiosity too far, you know? Remember that little girl in the square?” You trailed off a little for good measure, sighing softly and looking off to one of the arches. You saw merfolk swim by as they looked for the book they came to the library for. “I don’t want them to accidentally stumble upon it if the cave is close. Accidentally make a deal that they shouldn’t.”

You heard her sigh and looked back to her. She set the book she was putting away back on the stack of other unorganized books. “I suppose I’ve never thought of that before… But, there’s no need to worry. The cave is quite far away—all the way near the old shipwreck. It’s deep enough that it should be hidden and someone shouldn’t find it accidentally.”

Breathing out a faux sigh of relief, you let your body dramatically relax. She smiled at you, “Thank you for looking out for the little ones. You’d make a good addition to the council one day.”

Smiling back at her, you said nothing, but nodded. That didn’t matter. Your time in the water was limited. You gave her a flutter before showing yourself out.

The next person you had gone to was your father. It was perhaps a mistake to ask him questions about the sea witch, but if you asked another Elder, they would start to get suspicious. You had no choice but to ask your father.

He furrowed his brows at you, twisting the black pearl weaved in his hair between two fingers, as he assessed your question. He was quiet for a long while, and the more time that spanned on, the more nervous you felt. Finally, he responded, “Why do you want to know, my child?”

“Well… The sea witch cannot trick any more people into deals if the witch’s torch is not lit, right? Have you and the council ever thought of just… taking it? At least so then no more merfolk could make deals?” You nervously gulped.

Your father hummed and looked away from you, deep in thought. “That would be most helpful but unfortunately the witch’s torch cannot be unlit. It’s part of the sea witch’s magic.”

Now you are getting somewhere. Foolishly, you let your curiosity get ahead of you and the next word spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Why?”

Like a hammer, your father’s gaze settled on you. He swam from his seat and came to float in front of you.

“Why don’t you go get some fresh lotus for your Mother?”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand. You cast your eyes to the floor and nodded after a moment before leaving the room.

You were doing just that, collecting lotus roots, when you felt someone swim up next to you. When you looked at them, you noticed that it was someone you didn’t recognize. They didn’t say anything, and you stopped what you were doing to see what they wanted.

They were wearing a large sewn cloak of seaweed that covered their face, but you could still see their bright, shifting orange scales. Something about their tail looked off. There were patches that were smoother than others and completely rid of scales. It almost looked… sickly.

“I hear you’re asking around about the sea witch,” they said in a hushed voice.

You held the lotus roots close to your chest. Some of the buds were already starting to open. Clearing your throat, you said, “For the safety of the little ones, yes. Is that a problem?”

The cloaked figure wryly chuckled. “It is. Because you do not seek the sea witch for the ‘safety of the little ones,’ you seek the sea witch for yourself.” Your opened your mouth to speak, but they cut you off. “My wise advice for you—don’t. End this search for the sea witch, now.”

They swam away and you remained in the lotus grove utterly confused. For the rest of the day, their words stuck with you and replayed in your mind over and over. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to stop your search. The surface still called to you, and you were determined to answer it.

It felt weird to be amongst your people again. You were so busy vicariously living with the landwalkers that you forgot how different interactions between merfolk and landwalkers were. Instead of walking or running, it was swimming and tail flapping. Instead of giggles, it was a flurry of bubbles and occasional muted speech. Unless the conversation was important enough, you merfolk spoke with your hands. Merfolk swam with their tails on top of one another and their arms intertwined ahead of them.

Strangely, you felt out of place. Everything felt so different than it had once felt before. It felt like you didn’t belong under the water anymore.

You were going over the information you had gathered when suddenly the pieces all fit together. The old shipwreck… At first you didn’t know where it was but you vaguely remember your father ushering you away from it as a guppy. It was when you were out with your mother. The Elder you visited was right—it was quite far if you remembered correctly, but you had to try. And if the witch’s torch couldn’t be unlit against her will, then she might be there for you to ask a wish from her.

You twirled in excitement. The sea witch… you finally found her! You were going to have your legs that you’ve spent so many nights dreaming of, and you didn’t want to waste anymore time.

As the light rays dwindled, you quickly snuck out under the cover of darkness and began to swim towards the location, sneaking past any merfolk who were still out of their seaweed beds. Deep, deep down you swam and swam until you could barely see ahead of you. That was, until a sparkling light appeared and guided you—the witch’s torch.

You darted towards it, a nervous excitement bubbling inside of you as you drew closer and closer. You pushed all of the warnings your people gave you and all of the cautionary tales into the furthest, darkest corner of your mind. Today was the day that your life was going to change. When you reached it, a large opening with more sparkling lights beckoned you inside and you hesitantly followed them one by one.

The swim felt like it lasted an eternity as you twisted and turned, the large muscle in your tail burning and throbbing with exertion, until you saw a bright light that almost blinded you at first look. You swam towards it and surfaced from the water inside a decent sized pool in what looked like the interior of a rocky, rundown and dingy hut.

“Ah, a visitor!” a voice said and you swung around. A woman—a landwalking woman—was in front of a shelf of various trinkets and knick knacks next to a table full of jars of spices and herbs. Her voice came out more as a rasp, a scratchy sound that sounded like she didn’t use her voice much. She turned towards where you surfaced with a bright smile that was all teeth. Her dark, shadowed eyes widened and a chill ran down your spine all the way to the fin at the end of your tail.

She wore clothes that hung limply from her body and was tattered and dirty. Her hair a wild mess. When you thought of the sea witch, this is not what you were expecting. Still, you could feel the waves of power radiating off of her, and it made your heart beat faster in a twisted excitement.

She was real. The sea witch was real.

She walked towards the pool you were in. “Don’t get too many of those anymore, especially from the depths. Must be all the stories o—your people tell of me.” She chortled and you tilted your head in confusion before realizing that she had made a joke a second too late. The witch waved her hand in the air at your silence, “I kid, I kid.”

“The depths?” you asked her.

She chortled more before giving you a bewildered look. “Hm, what are they saying to you? Yes, child. I am both the sea and the land.” She turned back to the shelf, and as she did, she muttered, “At least, before that blasted curse long ago. You would think they would have some empathy… But, I digress.”

Pushing away from the shelf, the witch stepped towards you. Her tattered dress was ripped at the hems at multiple points so pieces of fabric hung from it and dragged along the stone floor. When she moved, the shells, sticks, and pearls she wore clacked together in an alluring harmony. It reminded you a little of the sea. She bent down at the edge of the pool so she was eye level with you, her messy hair fanning around her face.

“What deal did you come to make, little mermaid?” she asked, her eyes still wide and her smile still all teeth.

You waded backwards in the water slightly, but stood your ground. You swallowed, willing your voice to speak. “Legs…” you trailed softly before licking your lips. “Legs,” you said, louder and with more confidence. “I want to trade my tail for legs. I wish to walk on land like the landwalkers do—be a landwalker like them.”

“Legs,” the witch drawled out before tsking as she turned away from you in a large, dramatic motion. She grabbed a stone bowl from the top of one of her shelves, picking here and there at spices and herbs and trinkets as she moved about the room. “Always legs,” she continued. “You all could wish for anything—wings at your back, a stony gaze, the will for revenge—but you never do. Just legs. Always a deep desire to be human, what is it about them?” She spat out the last word, human, like it was stuck on the roof of her mouth.

Your brows furrowed in worry. What if she didn’t accept your deal? What if she was too tired of giving foolish mermaids like you legs to walk on land with and denied you wish?

The witch suddenly turned towards you and you jumped. “As I’m sure you know, everything always comes with a price—and this is mine. I will accept your request, but in return you must do something for me as well.”

You nodded furiously. “Y-Yes! Anything… I’ll do anything!”

The sea witch smiled, but it lacked all of the playfulness she previously possessed. Instead, it was almost cold, like she had flipped a fin. The change shocked and scared you deep to your core. You wanted to swim further back and away from her, but her gaze locked you in place and you felt paralyzed.

“In one month’s time, you must cut out the beating heart of the human you love the most and bring it to me.” The sea witch slowly leaned away from you, her eyes remaining on yours. “If you don’t fulfill your end of the deal, you will never walk on land again and you will never swim in the recesses of the ocean again either. You will instead turn to seafoam and be nevermore. That is your price, guppy.”

The way ‘guppy’ passed through her dry lips was like a bolt of lightning through water. Her scratchy voice was plain, like she said the words so many times that she simply plucked them from her memory and presented them to you. It made you sink deeper into the water and realize how foolish this dream of yours must look to others—to the one who granted the same wish to other merfolk time and time again before you. It made you feel… small.

Your eyes widened in shock and in fear. “B-But, in the story—”

The witch swiftly interrupted you, her voice harsh and grating. She leaned down to you again so fast you had no time to process it. Her teeth were sharp and her eyes were almost fully black. “In the ‘story,’ I gave that halfwitted thing a single day and every step she took felt like standing upon urchins. Be grateful, girl, that I am showing you kindness. Now what will it be? Do you accept, or do you waste my time?”

The clacking of her jewelry sounded like a ticking clock, urging you to answer quickly. “I accept!” you blurted. Your eyes widened further and you gasped softly at your own words. The sea witch’s sharp smile grew.

She got in the water and hooked her arms under you and dragged you towards the stone floor. “Yes, child!” she shouted, her voice suddenly a wondrous melody, and smoke rose all around you out of the bubbling cauldron you suddenly noticed. “A deal has been made—one you will die for to break! There’s no turning back!” She cackled loudly as she dragged you fully onto the ground, dropping you unceremoniously. You sat up, fear flooding your entire body as you froze and shook from the sudden change in temperature.

“There’s no turning back! There’s no turning back! A debt to be made, a word on contract. The beating heart shall be mine, for all you have sacrificed will be paid!” the witch shouted, cackling to herself.

The room grew dark and the light from the cauldron shimmered off of your deep blue scales. Before you could do much else, the sea witch plucked four scales from your tail and you hissed out in pain. She dropped them into the cauldron along with the trinkets and such from the stone bowl, mixing them all together with a hearty laugh.

You began to rise in the air and your tail started to tingle before becoming so unbearably hot that you started to writhe. You screamed out in pain as the smoke clouded around you and left you blind to the rest of the room. Smoke entered your lungs and you began to cough violently as fog rose above the surface of the pool and left it completely covered. You were suddenly reminded of your father’s previous words, “They will bottle your song and use it for their wrongdoings.” He should’ve told you how it wasn’t a landwalker that would steal your song, but something else entirely.

The sea witch’s voice rang in your head as she cackled more in the background. There’s no turning back.

From beyond the smoke and fog, you heard the witch shout, “Tonight, a vicious storm will brew and take you on your journey. A month from now the same storm will return, with or without you.”

You could barely hear her between your screams. You could barely hear your screams at all from the way your blood rushed to your ears. One by one, your scales ripped from your tail and withered away into nothingness. The more you writhed in pain, the more it felt like your tail was being split in two. You rose further into the air and noticed the suspended pool of water hanging above you. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. Like your gills had completely closed and you were suffocating. The top of your head rose into the water and despite not being able to breathe, you screamed—a shrill sound full of unabashed fear.

From the distance, you heard the sea witch’s voice again. This time she wasn’t shouting, but instead chuckling in satisfaction. She continued, “Either way, I’ll have a heart.”

As you entered the water, you were whooshed into a current that helped you breathe again. You gasped in large breaths as you spun around disoriented. The pain you felt was unimaginable. Your tail felt as if someone was ripping a leg off of a starfish. Except, instead of growing back the same, it was growing something else entirely. Something foreign that never should be growing there in the first place. More scales ripped and withered off of you as your tail split.

You tried to think about the future. Of how worth it this will all be in the end when you have your legs and you finally walk on land, living amongst the landwalkers—or humans, as the sea witch interestingly called them.

But, a thought prodded at your mind. The bargain you made and the heart you will have to bring back.

You didn’t think you could do it. You didn’t have the stomach to cut out someone’s heart, but you had no choice. Not anymore. Who’s heart will you cut out? Will you find some unsuspecting victim and force yourself to love them until you actually do, so in the end you can rip out the heart they entrusted you with? It was all so wrong. What have you done?

The current led you to the sea’s surface and in the heart of the most vicious storm you’ve ever seen. Waves crashed against you and pummeled you back down under the surface, yet each time you emerged again and again. Harsh, stinging winds slashed across your skin, yet you remained unharmed. You hoarsely yelled out in pain and looked down at the beautiful blue tail you once had, the scales a myriad of shades. You didn’t even recognize it anymore.

Instead, what you saw was a half tail, half pair of legs monstrosity. It perfectly described where you were at this current moment—between the waves of the watery life you had been stripped from and being pushed forward to the dry land of the life you will come to know. In the distance, you heard that loud, guttural sound that you recognized so well. You turned and saw the beacon of fluttering light emitting from the lighthouse standing tall against the storm.

A dark thought polluted your mind. You weren’t expecting to be spat out so close to the village. Your mind traveled to the man working the lighthouse as you fought against the waves to breathe the cold air.

What if it was his heart you cut out?

No… you didn’t want to think that. Didn’t want that thought to be true. You pushed out the thought as soon as it came to mind. Anybody, but him. Anybody, but Sunghoon. You’ve grown too fond of him during the times you watched over him. You can’t let his already seemingly lonely life be cut short by getting his heart ripped out. You wouldn’t allow yourself to do that to him.

The tormenting waves seemed to have other plans for you. It felt as if they read your mind and sensed your discomfort. They took you directly towards the shore where the lighthouse sat with purposeful glides and you started to cry.

Shock jolted you as you felt wetness roll down your cheeks just as the rain started to pour down harder from a light sprinkling. You touched your cheeks with trembling hands. The change was all too much too fast. It was so overwhelming. You weren’t expecting it to be this way.

When you heard the story of the mermaid trading her tail for legs it was nothing like this. She emerged from the water like a graceful swan, a beautiful sunset behind her that reflected off the calm sea. You couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the lies you were told.

You didn’t feel graceful, you felt forsaken. This was a journey of death, not rebirth.

The closer you got to the shore, the more regret started to pierce deep inside you. It didn’t help that the storm clouds seemed to break so the moon’s light could illuminate just you. It all felt so unfair. All you wanted to do was walk on land, why must you endure all this? Why must you love someone deeply only to rip their heart out? And why were the sea witch’s waves so hellbent on that person being Sunghoon?

Why did the excitement still flood in the pit of your belly at the thought of the life you may live after?

A second, smaller light flickered on at the tiny island you were barreling towards and you knew it was him. You watched as the small light raced towards the shore almost as fast as you were being pushed to it. The two of you were heading towards a deadly collision and you weren’t ready for it.

The waves spat you out and you washed up on the sand of the shore. You felt weak and dizzy and something else entirely that you couldn't name or figure out. Your stomach rumbled like the thunder and your head ached. You raised your head as much as you could and looked down at your new body. You were in so much pain that you almost couldn’t feel anything at all.

Sniffling a little, a laugh spilled from your lips and the corners of your mouth pulled upwards. You have legs. They may be painful at the moment and slightly numb, but you finally had them. You felt every grain against them and dug your legs further into the sand. The last remaining scales of your former life surrounded you like glittering rocks. You were surprised that they hadn’t withered away like the rest of them.

You looked up at the full moon, glowing and huge. It looked like a pearl hung in the sky. You smiled wider before inhaling deeply. You felt brand new. Maybe the whole journey was worth it in the end. A wave of sleep hit you and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Just as your eyes began to close fully, a warm light draped over your body. Sunghoon’s worried face appeared in your view just as another wave of sleep overcame you, the ghost of a smile on your face.

As you drifted off into the unknown, the claws of regret sank into you again and it’s almost as if you could hear the sea witch’s cruel cackling. You can’t rip out his heart, you just couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Because, unbeknownst to you, that fondness you held so deeply for him was already blossoming into something more. Something dangerous. And you would protect it with your last dying breath.

It was a strange day, indeed, for Sunghoon.

More of a strange week, actually. Firstly, his assistant keeper was nowhere to be found, so he was on the small island all alone; manning all of the work and upkeep of the lighthouse on his own. As he went on about his days, Sunghoon constantly felt watched—he even swore he heard a woman’s laugh before, even saw the apparition of her along the shore, but it was just him. Maybe it was finally his time to go mad like so many of the other lighthouse keepers that came before him.

Now a vicious storm appearing out of nowhere? After his logs over the week have only shown mostly clear skies? It was all very strange to him.

Even stranger was how loud the storm was—louder than any storm he has ever heard before. It was as if it wanted to make its chaotic presence known. It had awoken him from his dreamless sleep like an alluring song. As Sunghoon scanned the waters for any possible boats or ships, a woman, illuminated by a beam of moonlight, fought against the waves and crashed upon his shore like some holy being. The storm had come so fast he barely had time to get from his bed and light his oil lantern to go out and try to assist her.

That is where Sunghoon was now, holding his lantern over your bare body as he worriedly looked over you for any injuries. You seemed completely unharmed, surrounded by shifting blue scales with pearls in your hair and shiny skin that still clung to the water from the ocean. With skin the slightest bit tinted blue and with slightly webbed hands, you almost looked… human—but, more ethereal and beautiful than anything Sunghoon has ever seen in his entire life. You were prettier than any Gibson Girl appearance the women of the village sported by far.

Realizing that he was gazing upon a woman’s naked body who he didn’t know, Sunghoon quickly sat his lantern down in the sand as he shrugged off his wet coat. He laid it over you before hooking his arms under your legs and back to carry you back to safety in his quarters, making sure to grab his lantern to light his way back through the dark. Every few seconds Sunghoon peered down to gape at you, too entranced with your beauty. It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away, no matter how hard he tried.

The closer to his small house and the further away from the shore he got, the storm simmered until he was at the front of his door and the skies and sea were almost calm again. Very strange, Sunghoon thought.

Sunghoon laid you down gently onto his couch and replaced his coat for one of the thick blankets strewn across the back of the couch. You were completely out cold, and probably would be for a while. Sunghoon shook his head in wonder as he stared down at you. “What happened to you? How did you manage to get caught vulnerable and alone in the middle of a storm?”

His questions would have to wait for later. Sunghoon rushed back outside and to the lighthouse. He climbed up the narrow winding staircase to the top and ensured that the lamp was still burning. After adjusting the flame, everything was back in order and the mechanism was spinning efficiently.

Sunghoon sighed as he exited the lighthouse and leaned against the wind-worn door of it for a moment. The weather was calm again and he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. It felt like a storm only one would see in text of myths and legends. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to do much cleaning up after the sudden storm. After logging everything that happened, Sunghoon ventured back down to the shore—back down to where he found you.

In the sand, he picked up some of the blue scales that had surrounded you and inspected them. They were somewhat transparent and flexible. When Sunghoon held them out to the light, they shifted from a dark blue to a deep teal color. It only left him with more questions, but he pocketed them to ask you about later.

He remembered how in the books he read, they told of mermaids and the magic that surrounded them. It said how if a mermaid were to give you one of their scales, the scale would bring you good fortune for as long as you kept it close to you. It also said how pirates would use this to their advantage to pillage other ships and take treasure for their own.

A yawn was ripped from Sunghoon’s mouth and he looked out at the moon. If his calculations were correct, he still had a couple of hours until he had to be up again for the day. Heading back to the small house near the lighthouse, Sunghoon decided to go back to sleep until either it was time for him to wake up, or you awoke. There was no point in staying awake if everything outside was calm with no signs of changing and you were asleep.

Sunghoon quickly ran upstairs and changed his wet clothes for dryer ones, making sure to bring some down for you to wear when you woke up. He sunk down into the armchair next to the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. Sunghoon glanced over to you, sleeping peacefully, with a sigh. He just hoped that nothing else strange occurred.

He got as comfortable as he could on the armchair and yawned once again. Sunghoon closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

You awoke inside a simply adorned house that you didn’t recognize. Memories rushed towards the forefront of your mind and you recalled the events you just went through. The sea witch, your new—and no longer painful—legs, the storm, and Sunghoon’s worried face. You slowly sat up and the fabric across your body fell off your shoulders and pooled in your lap.

You turned towards the window and looked out at the sky. It was still rather dark outside, but you could tell that the dawn was not too far away. The light atop of the lighthouse still flickered like a beacon in the sky and there were no remnants of whatever storm brought you here.

The surface… you were finally on it. A smile grew on your face and you turned your attention back to your new legs, flipping the fabric off of them completely to gaze upon them.

They were absolutely glorious. You giggled a little as you wiggled the tiny fingers at the end of them. They felt unusual, but you suppose you would eventually get used to the feeling. Another thought popped into your head, loud and demanding—Sunghoon.

He was asleep in the chair next to you, his body uncomfortably twisted in it. You tilted your head as you looked at him. You actually couldn’t believe it, you were finally getting a close look at a landwalker—a human. You stood on your new legs, shaking and using the couch to stabilize you. You took a shaky step towards him, and another until you were basically hovering over him and trying your hardest not to tip over and fall into his lap.

How fascinating, humans. They didn’t have any gills like merfolk did, nor the tinged blue-ish skin or shiny tail. And from what you could tell, their ears didn’t have any attached fins on them either. You touched your own ears, astonished at how different they felt. They were rounded now, and smooth to the touch. You then held out your hand and held it up near Sunghoon’s to see if there was still a difference. They were still slightly webbed, but not nearly like how they used to be. It was all so… new.

Your skin was soft and warm rather than cold, wet, and almost slick. Sunghoon’s hair also didn’t sprawl out around him like yours did when you were underwater. Instead, it covered his eyes in a dark curtain and rested softly across his cheeks.

You reached out your hand further and brushed the hair away to see Sunghoon’s closed eyes, your fingers brushing lightly across his skin. He really was beautiful. Your brows knitted together as the tips of your fingers dragged down his cheek. Did all humans look like him?

Sunghoon’s eyes cracked open and you gasped softly, pulling your hand away. You took a wobbly step back and nearly fell onto the table if it hadn’t been for Sunghoon jumping up from his chair and quickly reaching out and grabbing your waist to steady you. You both looked at each other with wide eyes and in complete silence. You were sure that even the waves halted its chorus. Sunghoon’s eyes trailed your body and his eyes widened even more before he swiftly removed his hands from your bare waist and turned his head to the side, blinking rapidly.

“T-There’s clothes on the table for you…” Sunghoon stuttered, the sleep still in his voice, as he shifted back against the edge of the armchair nervously. His eyes darted to yours before looking away again.

You gave him a confused look before turning to the table. You held up the “clothes” he was talking about in front of you and turned back to him with a puzzled look. “What… is it?” you asked. You stuck your arm through one of its various holes, confused on what you were to do with it.

Sunghoon shifted more until he suddenly fell down in the seat and he dragged his gaze up to you. You could see the way his body heated up and the redness that creeped up his neck and tinted his cheeks pink. It made him look even prettier. He took the pillow from behind him and pressed it down in his lap. “Uh… I-It’s a shirt,” he stuttered more, just as confused as you were. “You wear it?”

You lowered the shirt so you could look at him and Sunghoon looked at the ceiling. “Wear it?” you repeated. What is a “shirt” and how does one “wear it?” There was so much about a human’s life that you didn’t know. It made you excited to learn about it all.

Sunghoon cleared his throat and his brows drew together more, like he didn’t understand how you didn’t understand what he was talking about. Suddenly, realization dawned on his features and he slowly looked down from the ceiling so his eyes connected with yours. “Yeah,” he said slowly. You could see the geysers blowing in his head the more he stared at you, his eyes shifting along your face and your hair. He glanced towards the door before settling on you. “Have you seen them before?” he suddenly asked.

“From afar on humans, but never this close! We don’t wear things such as this. It’s soft,” you smiled. You then gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. You didn’t think it was wise to let him know that you were—or, use to be—a mermaid. Your father’s words came to mind again, but, as you stared at Sunghoon with wide eyes, it didn’t look like he was dangerous.

After all, he did rescue you from the storm and gave you shelter. He is even giving you some of his clothes, even if you didn’t know what to do with them or how to wear them. Maybe you could trust him with your secret before going off to the village in hopes of finding someone to fall in love with. Treat it as a farewell before you leave him to ensure your fondness doesn't grow any further.

A knowing smile grew on Sunghoon’s face and as you stared at each other for another moment, you could see him put all the pieces together himself. “Well, us humans usually wear a shirt like this,” he started, motioning down to the shirt that covered his chest. “And trousers to cover our lower half. You’re, uh, naked… right now.”

Your brows raised in shock and your fingers rose to your hair. Naked? How were you naked? Most of your pearls were still in your hair and your hair was relatively decent still. You were completely dressed.

Sunghoon slowly stood. He grabbed the shirt from you and held it in between your bodies. “I’m not sure how things work where you’re from… but here, let me help you…” He lifted the shirt and pulled it over your head through one of the holes. “Your arms go through the other two,” Sunghoon murmured awkwardly.

He then very awkwardly guided you through putting on the trousers and you quickly learned about balance and its importance.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely as you smiled at him. Sunghoon sheepishly smiled back, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, I must ask one last thing of you. The village… it’s dire that I get there as fast as possible.”

Sunghoon’s smile dropped. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his warm cheek. You still weren’t used to the warmth that came with humans. You then started to make your way to the door, a lot less wobbly. The kiss was risky, but you couldn’t help yourself. Sunghoon raced towards you, his arms out. “Wait!” he called out.

He held you in place by your shoulders to stop you from leaving. “You can’t leave—not without someone guiding you, and I can’t leave the lighthouse. The villagers… they’ll eat someone like you alive up there. It’s not safe.” You could tell Sunghoon wasn’t joking by the serious expression on his face.

What were you supposed to do now? “Someone like me?” you asked.

Sunghoon gave you an almost incredulous look. “You arrived in a storm completely unharmed and alive. When I found you, you were surrounded by these scales and you wear pearls in your hair…” he trailed off, like the answer was blatantly obvious. “The villagers don’t believe, but spending time here, alone, at this lighthouse will at the very least have you questioning. Nevermind the generations of journals that my family has kept stored away with tales of fair maidens from the waters and their shimmering tails.”

Your shoulders sagged. At least you didn’t have to hide what you were from him anymore—not that you were doing a good job of it anyway. “B-But… I have to go to the village!” you exclaimed.

“Listen, why don’t you stay here for a while? I’ll teach you everything you need to know—human to mermaid—and after, you can go on your merry way and live amongst us on your own!” said Sunghoon.

“You don’t understand.” You slumped down on the couch, crossing your arms. “It’s not safe for you, and I don’t have that much time.”

Sunghoon quirked a brow, chuckling, “What? Are you gonna eat me or something?” You stayed silent. He sat down on the couch next to you. “If you were, you would’ve done so on the shore or while I was sleeping. I promise that no angry mob is gonna come rowing here after you, you don’t have to worry. And, I’ll teach you everything as fast as I can.”

You sighed defeatedly, you just hoped it was fast enough for you to still find someone else. It couldn’t be Sunghoon who’s heart you ripped out. “Okay,” you murmured.

Sunghoon smiled brightly at you. “Now, what’s your name, darling?”

You finally turned to look at him again. Sunghoon had the warmest brown eyes that you couldn’t even begin to decipher, but you wouldn’t mind getting lost in them. Everything about him was warm like the feeling of the sun on your skin. Hesitantly, you told him your name.

“I’m Sunghoon, here at your service!” You laughed and he joined in with you. You almost wanted to tell him that you already knew, that you’ve been watching him, but you decided against it. It was best that he didn’t know. You wouldn’t be staying here for long anyway.

“Sunghoon,” you repeated instead, like you haven’t already said it before, “that’s very pretty.”

“A compliment, coming from a pretty woman like yourself? Well, it must be! Thank you kindly, Miss!” He smiled playfully and you rolled your eyes. There was a pang in your chest and you inhaled. Thankfully it was covered by a loud growl, causing you to furrow your brows.

Sunghoon’s face lit up in realization again. “Ah, right. You must be hungry. Let me fetch you something to eat.”

It has been about a week since you landed in Sunghoon’s care and time was ticking down. You tried to not think about how much time you had left, instead distracting yourself by helping Sunghoon around the lighthouse, but it was near impossible. It didn’t help that since the two of you were alone on the island together, you both had no choice but to be in each other’s presence and get to know each other.

Sunghoon has taught you a lot about humans throughout the week you’ve been here and in turn you’ve told him about how things worked under the water. The two of you were fascinated by each other’s stories and that, in turn, only brought you both even closer. It was a dangerous game that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop playing.

The day was clear, and as Sunghoon said, “It holds no signs of changing.”

He had taught you how to track the weather and which signs to look for that signaled an oncoming storm. You listened diligently as he explained to you clouds and how they varied from the big, white fluffy ones to the dark grey ones that led to rain. Sunghoon stopped his painting of the side of the connected building of the lighthouse, leaning his back against the dried part to watch you and listen to you speak, when you began to tell him how you tracked the weather underwater. You weren’t used to the attention, and still not used to Sunghoon’s intense gaze either, so you had kept your eyes firmly on the task at hand as you spoke of bubbles and currents.

Sunghoon didn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. You finally raised your head to meet his stare. “There’s not really ‘weather’ underwater, for the most part,” you started. “Think of blowing into a cup of water from the surface of it, and now think of that as rain up here.” You waved the hand that held the large paintbrush up towards the clouds. “That’s how we’d be able to know if it was raining up at the surface—though, going to the surface is forbidden anyway.”

You thought back to all of the times where your Elders and you father especially forbade you from even getting close to the surface—and how you would ignore their demands anyway. Although it was such a grievance then, you thought back to your father’s voice and the warning it always carried. “Don’t go near the surface, my child. They will bottle your song and use it for their wrongdoings. Landwalkers are dangerous,” you recalled aloud.

Sunghoon took a step towards you, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Do you think that I’m dangerous?” he asked.

You looked over at him again, a grin across your face and one of your eyebrows raised. “If anyone here is dangerous, it’s me. No offense. But, you are the one who decided to house a mermaid with no survival instincts whatsoever.”

Sunghoon laughed and it was the most glorious sound that you have ever heard. Your eyes widened a little at the sound and watched as he threw his head back, his hat almost slipping off and catching the wind. It made your own smile brighten and you laughed a little along with him. “I can’t argue with that, sweetheart,” Sunghoon spoke, the smile still lingering on his face. He had teeth that looked like little fangs and it reminded you a lot of the merfolk back home.

“So, what did make you want to come to the surface in the first place? Especially after all of the warnings you heard?” asked Sunghoon.

You continued to paint the siding as you spoke, your voice soft as you recalled the memories from long ago. “At first, I was completely against going to the surface. I thought, ‘why go through all of that trouble to put myself into a dangerous situation’? But the more that I thought that thought, the more curious I became.”

You could see the memory in your mind so vividly, it was almost like you were reliving it. “One day, one of the guppies—children,” you corrected yourself with a sheepish grin and a brief look over to Sunghoon. His complete attention was still on you. “Got curious enough to try and swim up to the surface herself.”

The image of the child was burned into your memory. Everyone was too busy to pay attention to her and she took the opportunity to reach what she always dreamed of touching. You remembered how the ray of sunlight cast down from the surface onto her, how close she was. It had ignited a fiery inspiration inside of you and unlocked a deep, hidden desire that you didn’t know you beheld.

“Nobody, but me, was watching her. So, I watched as her little tail took her to the surface, and the way her arm outstretched to touch it…” you trailed. Hands wrapping around the child and dragging her back down flashed in your mind, and you winced a little. Her screams were so loud, her felled dream even louder. It completely broke your heart. You cleared your throat and looked at Sunghoon. His thick brows were furrowed as he put together the rest of the story without you even having to say anything. You smiled at him, but it was strained. “The more you try to keep someone from something, the more they want it, you know?” you said finally.

You quickly shifted the subject away from the little girl. “I couldn’t get it out of my mind. So, a couple days later, I decided to try and touch the surface myself, see how dangerous it really was.” You started to paint again, turning away from Sunghoon and watching the streaks of paint that appeared with each graze of your paintbrush. “My father had always said that when he was a kid, merfolk used to go to the surface all of the time. He talked a lot about these people called pirates and how we would help them. That was, before something happened and merfolk decided to stick to the sea.”

Sunghoon’s low voice startled you out of your memories. “Pirates?” he asked, and the tone of his voice made it seem like he knew what you were talking about. “I guess that’s not all that surprising. A lot of pirates weren’t good people. Did your father ever tell you what happened with the pirates?”

You shook your head. “Not at all… It wasn’t a time he recalled fondly. And the Elders refused to even answer questions about it.” Realizing that you were drifting from the question Sunghoon initially asked you, you shifted the conversation again. “Anyway, it was nighttime and I had waited for everyone to be asleep to make my grand journey. I remember when my hand first broke through the water. It was such a surreal feeling. Even though I knew there was a whole other world beyond the surface, it was a completely different experience actually seeing it and realizing that all of the stories about the surface were real.”

Sunghoon grabbed your elbow and gently pulled you away from the siding so that you could face him. He wanted to see the excitement seep through every crevice of your face and the way your eyes lit up. He wanted to experience it with you. You looked at him through your eyelashes as heat crept up your spine and along your neck until it made your cheeks burn.

“And when I dared to surface fully…” A large smile spread across your features that you couldn't stop. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything that I had ever imagined—it was like a whole other world.” Sunghoon held your hands in his as his own smile spread and brightened. It was a bit awkward with the paintbrushes, but the two of you didn’t mind. “I had to see it for myself. I knew that if I didn’t, I would never forgive myself. So, I kept coming to the surface, just staring at all of the buildings at first. Then that turned to getting close and hearing the sounds of people, then watching their daily lives from behind rocks.”

“Have you ever watched me?” Sunghoon jokingly asked. You quickly looked away from him in embarrassment, but Sunghoon just laughed that beautiful sound again and it made you feel like the embarrassment was worth it if you were able to hear him laugh again.

You said your response through a murmur, your eyes cast down to the grass below, “I think you’re the one I watched the most.” You dared a glance at him, only to meet his eyes and be locked down by his smile.

Clearing your throat, you pulled your hands from his grasp. You instead bent down to the paint can between the two of you and dipped your paintbrush into it to resume painting the side of your building. For a moment, you could feel Sunghoon’s stare on you, his sunlit smile, until he too went back to painting and it was quiet between the two of you. It was a long moment before one of you spoke again.

“What do you say we row over to the village? Get you some proper clothes?” asked Sunghoon. “I don’t think you want to keep wearing mine.” He paused from the siding he was painting again to look over at you.

You halted the paintbrush you were holding, looking at his clothes that you wore. “What? Do they not look good on me?” you giggled.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, almost like something clicked in his head, but a smile grew on his face. He said nothing for a moment, just stared at you with a fond smile. “Of course they look good on you,” he said.

You looked away, hiding your face, as you continued painting. “That would be nice,” you murmured, before speaking a little louder. “It would be nice to see the village.”

Not soon after that, the two of you were climbing up the dock at the village together. You stuck near Sunghoon’s side, suddenly overwhelmed by the bust life of the villagers. As you walked through the streets, you couldn’t help but notice all their stares—their dirty looks. You pressed more into Sunghoon’s side and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“A man’s clothes!” you heard the village women mutter amongst each other. “And her hair…”

You now knew what Sunghoon meant when he said that the village would eat you alive. You didn’t look how the village women looked and the difference was drastic and obvious. None of them had pearls intricately wrapped in strands of their hair or even had their hair down. Their hair was all put up, with flowing skirts and modest blouses or fitted dresses that showed the curve of their hips that didn’t match the buttoned up untucked men’s shirt and trousers you wore. It was all so overwhelming.

By the time you reached the tailors, you were practically clutching onto Sunghoon’s side, clinging onto him like you were helpless. How did you ever expect to do this alone? When you entered, every eye was on you. A human woman—who you assumed was the owner of the shop—rushed towards you. “Oh, you poor thing! Let me fix you up!” she cooed as she pulled you away from Sunghoon’s grasp.

You looked back at him with wide, fearful eyes. “It’ll be okay,” he assured you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“This will take a while,” the woman said to him, before glancing at you. At least she didn’t look at you like the other women did. It was more with pity than disgust. Sunghoon nodded, sitting in one of the chairs with his hat clutched in his hands. You didn’t turn away from him until your view of him was physically cut off by the curtain the woman pulled in front of your face and he didn’t look away either.

Suddenly, the woman had you out of Sunghoon’s clothes and in long skirts and blouses. She had you try on various ones to gauge your size, along with pulling out what she called a “measuring tape.”

Once you had on an outfit she was satisfied with, her fingers hovered over the pearls in your hair, a look you couldn’t name in her eyes. “Pearls are very beautiful, don’t you agree?” she asked as she turned to look at your face. You nodded, still a bit uncomfortable, as you cast your gaze downwards to the floor.

“All that hardship for beauty… for a simple creation,” the woman said. “I was just like you once, little guppy.” You gaze snapped to hers in shock as her eyes stared at the pearls in your hair.

The woman continued, and you saw the sadness in her eyes. She nodded her head towards the curtain, “That man out there, he found you, didn’t he?” You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, so you just nodded. “He’s already swimming down deep for you,” she said. “It gets easier, dear. When it’s all over, you come and find me, you hear?”

She worked on your outfit, pinning fabric in places here and smoothing fabric down there. It was a tentative process and your legs started to ache from standing for so long. You took the chance to inspect the tailor for her mermaid attributes. It was very, very faint, but you could still see the coolness in her skin. When she smoothed down the fabric of the skirt you wore, you saw her slightly webbed hands and looked down at your own. She was much older than you, and you could tell that she had settled nicely into the life she had created for herself here.

There was a long silence that stretched between the two of you, one that wasn’t uncomfortable, when the woman finally spoke again. There was an air of distaste in her words. “When I was a much younger woman, I made the same deal that you did—one that certainly came with its hardships. My pearly scales were taken from me and I was sent here in a storm like you and so many others who wash up along the shores of this village. The sea witch had only given me a day and a knife. I had no one but myself to rely on as I was outcasted from the sea, and I don’t want that for other young mermaids.”

The tailor didn’t look at you as she worked. Her eyes remained downcast. Something in her voice began to break, but she quickly covered it by clearing her throat. “It’s a horrible thing, but it is necessary if you want a life out of the sea. If you wish for advice, I will not hesitate to give it and help aid you along your own journey.”

She said nothing else—nothing else about the fact that you both crawled from the deep in hopes of a new life. Nothing about how she must’ve had to sacrifice the one she loved most in order to be standing in front of you right now. Nothing about if it was worth it or not—and you so desperately needed to know.

Instead, she carefully untangled the pearls from your windswept hair and worked them into the up-do she styled your hair in. As she worked around you, you noticed the single pearl in her own hair, and your heart broke in two. It was carefully weaved into a braid along with what you were assuming was one of her scales from so long ago. Too late did you remember the infamous story you’ve heard countless times now of the naive mermaid with the pearlescent tail.

Once she was done and the curtain was opened, you all but ran back to where Sunghoon still sat, just like he said he would. As you approached, he stood to his feet as he looked over you. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. The woman giggled, winking at you and handing you your bags, before leaving the two of you alone.

“Better?” you asked him, glancing down at the new clothes you wore.

“You were already beautiful,” Sunghoon replied, a bit breathlessly and flustered. You smiled and felt your face start to heat up rapidly. His ears were a flaming red that made you giggle a little. Sunghoon cleared his throat, blinking., “B-But, it’s a good hu—good look on you. Do you like it?”

You thought it over for a moment, ‘There’s aspects of it that I like, some that I don’t.” You like how intricate it all looked. A lot of it reminded you of the seabed. With all of the colors, it looked like you wore a coral reef with the most beautiful and shimmering fish in it. You weren’t sure about how fitted it all felt, but you were sure you would get used to it. It bummed you that your hair was put up, but at least you kept your pearls.

“Well, you can wear it all however you like when we’re back on the island, sweetheart,” said Sunghoon, stepping towards you. He took your hands in his and smiled at you.

When the two of you walked back through the village, you still felt eyes on you—more snickers and muttering. On the row home you were quiet, which Sunghoon noticed. Your eyes had stayed on the water, your fingers reaching down to touch the surface but stopping before you could make contact. At the house, he saw how the sadness twisted your features.

He guided you towards the couch, his brows drawn together in worry. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice low. Sunghoon watched helplessly as the tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him before sliding down your cheeks. You touched your fingers to the wetness, confused.

“What is this?” you asked him.

“Tears,” Sunghoon replied. “They happen when you feel an emotion deeply—like sadness.” More tears fell down your cheeks and you buried your face in his chest. Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

After a few moments, you peeked your head out and looked at him with big, teary eyes. Your eyes darted down to Sunghoon’s lips before looking back up at him, your brows furrowing as you battled your inner turmoil. Slowly, you leaned up and softly pressed your lips to his.

Sunghoon’s own eyebrows raised in slight shock. You pulled away the slightest bit, your lips still hovering near his like you were frozen. For a second, Sunghoon was too. He then chased your lips with his, kissing you again.

Your lips worked in perfect harmony together as you kissed each other. Like the past week has been building to this moment and it’s finally here and it’s perfect. His lips felt perfect on yours and yours on his. It was as if they were made for each other and you never wanted to spend another moment not kissing Sunghoon.

His hand cupped your face and you sat up more, nearly in his lap, as the kiss deepened. You kissed each other like you were desperate. Like the waves were crashing around you—and they were. The time you had left flashed in your mind and you ran your hands through his hair to distract yourself from the thoughts and instead focus on him—only Sunghoon.

Sunghoon’s hat fell to the side somewhere on the couch and his other hand slid down to rest on your waist. You kissed each other like you didn’t need air, or water, or anything. Just each other. But you did, and you pulled away as heavy breathing overtook the both of you. Not far, but enough so that your lips had the slightest distance from his. Your thoughts came back full force, the sand in your hourglass falling and falling and in the distance you could hear the sea witch’s cackling.

You shook your head a little, eyes still closed. “W-We can’t… This is too dangerous,” you trailed off in a soft and low voice, your eyes fluttering open and meeting his.

“I don’t understand…” Sunghoon whispered. “What is so dangerous about it?” The pads of his thumbs wiped away freshly fallen tears. You shook your head again, pulling away from him fully and sitting properly back on the couch. Sunghoon sat up straighter and placed his dropped hat in his lap.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. You looked out the window towards the calm sea and felt yourself break. It was already too late. You’ve reached the point of no return, and if you continued down the path you were going with Sunghoon, there would be no going back.

“This won’t end well,” you told him, “and we’ll both end up getting hurt—or worse.”

You felt his fingers gently turn your face towards his. His face was inches from yours and he pulled you closed to him as you sniffled, wrapping his arms around you in comfort once again.

“And what if I like the pain—the danger?” Sunghoon asked you quietly. “What if I want to get hurt by you?”

You shook your head once again and turned your head away from him. “You don’t,” you replied. He didn’t know what he was asking, and you knew that someday soon you would have to tell him. Oh, how you wished that time would just freeze here in this moment and let you stay in it a bit longer with him. But, that wasn’t possible.

Sunghoon turned you towards him again, nodding. “I do,” he said.

His lips met yours again and you could feel the harsh winds whip around the two of you. The tides bent and broke and turned. You were both caught in a riptide and there was no escaping. Your fates were already put in motion and sealed with the kiss you shared.

You were a fool to think you could stop it. You kissed Sunghoon back with so much passion and wanting that you were sure it would knock the two of you right over. Instead, he kept you stable, kept both of your heads above the water as you got pushed by the tall waves hand in hand. Sunghoon kissed you back just as feverishly.

From the second you saw him through the fog you knew that your souls would be intertwined. You knew that you would fall in love with him. There was no stopping it, and you couldn’t no matter how hard you tried.

But then you thought of his bloody, beating heart in your cold hands. His lifeless eyes staring up at you. You had to fight against your ripping love for him, there was no other option. You didn’t want the sea witch to have his pure heart. She didn’t deserve it. And you felt like you didn’t deserve it either.

But the anchor has already been dropped into the water, and by the time you hurriedly pull it back up it would already be too late.

So you kept kissing him. You let everything you felt for him speak for itself through your moving lips on his and hoped that it was enough. You hoped that Sunghoon understood it all—hoped that once he found out the truth that he would forgive you for keeping it from him. You hoped that his feelings for you would change.

The woman’s words from earlier seeped between your thoughts. “He’s already swimming down deep for you.” You didn’t think it could get easier like she has said. At the end of the time you had, when it was either you or Sunghoon, you were choosing him. You just hoped that, in time, it would get easier for him.

Since you and Sunghoon shared a kiss that shifted everything between the two of you, a little over a week had passed. You tried hard to fight against your rapidly growing love for him, but it seemed like Sunghoon fought against you every step of the way. Whether it was fleeting but charged touches, longing looks, or the words he spoke, Sunghoon was determined to let the feelings between the two of you grow. He's even gotten more bolder with his displays of affection.

Slowly, throughout the time since your kiss, you let yourself feel all of the deep and confusing and complex emotions for him. Let yourself pretend that you weren't a doomed mermaid, but a regular human girl who was falling in love. There were moments where you completely forgot that you were on a timer—and those moments were filled with complete bliss before your mind snapped back into place and you were ripped from your illusion. Still, you didn’t let that change anything, even if you knew that it should.

So, you shivered at his fleeting touch, wishing for more. You hid your heated face as the two of you exchanged longing glances. You melted at his sweet and honest words, as if it was a secret only the two of you shared. And for the first time in your life, you had everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You feeling better today, my pearl?” Sunghoon asked you gently.

A couple days ago you lightly burned your hand while lighting the oil lamp. It was a mere sting, really, but Sunghoon has been fawning over you ever since. When he first called you “my pearl,” a few days after your kiss, it came as a shock.

“My pearl?” you asked him, slight shock fueling your voice. It was later in the day after the two of you finished the majority of what you had to do around the lighthouse. You and Sunghoon sat across from each other at the table with a discarded shared meal pushed to the side in the center of you both. His hand was intertwined with yours, his thumb caressing the back of it.

“Like the ones in your hair,” he said, using his free hand to motion to them. His smile—one that seemed permanent these days—grew even more and it lit up his whole face. “Unless you want to be called something different…” Sunghoon leaned across the small table towards you, tilting his head. His lips were inches from yours. In a loving voice, he added, “Like sweetheart, or darling, or baby…”

A permanent smile seemed planted on your lips too. Your face felt like it was on fire. “I’ll like whatever you want to call me. The only thing that matters is that it comes from your lips.”

Sunghoon chuckled and his head fell in the other direction before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I told you, I’m okay,” you started as Sunghoon looked over your wrapped hand. He glanced up at you with his brows raised before softly kissing the spot on your hand that you hurt. “There's no need to worry.” Sunghoon then brought your hand to his chest. You felt the dull thump of his heartbeat and your assuring smile faltered slightly. You pulled your hand away. “We should finish cleaning the lighthouse,” you said, looking down to your feet. You glanced back up and Sunghoon nodded. You saw the worry start to settle on his face but you moved before he could say anything else.

Later that night, a storm had rolled in. It wasn’t as bad as the one that brought you here, but it still scared you nonetheless. It had woken you up and the thunder shook you to your core. It made you remember that just because you were pretending everything was okay and normal didn’t mean that they were. Your time was ticking down and you had to tell Sunghoon the truth at some point, and it had to be soon.

You shakily slid out your bed, clutching tightly to your frilly, high-collared white nightgown, and made cautious steps towards your door. With each strike of lightning, your bedroom illuminated and you saw your shadow dance across the floor. Sometimes, it didn’t look like you had legs at all, but a tail still. The more steps you took, the more some of them felt wrong. Like you were stepping on hot coals or urchins.

Shaking your head as you slowly opened your door, you tried to calm yourself down. It was all in your head, that’s all. Everything was okay.

You made your way down the short hall towards Sunghoon's room. Carefully, you opened his door, the creaking getting drowned out by the rolling thunder. Sunghoon was already awake, staring out his window from his bed at the storm, his features drawn in complete focus. His eyes snapped to you and his slowly opening door before softening.

You felt silly, like a child coming to a parent after a bad dream. He must’ve seen how scared you were, because he motioned you over to him. You closed his door before walking over to his bed. You climbed up onto it and sat next to him, the two of you peering out his window.

The storm was even less bad than you initially thought it was. It was mainly just a little rain and a lot of thunder. The sea waves weren’t even as large and imposing as they seemed from your own window. Instead, they were relatively calm. Sunghoon had his journal out, writing down and calculating the storm into it, before he set it aside on his nightstand with his fountain pen.

“The storm should be over soon,” Sunghoon said, looking over to you, “The waves of thunder are getting further and further apart.” His spectacles caught the moonlight briefly before he took them off and sat them on his nightstand next to his journal. “Here, you should get some sleep.”

Sunghoon shifted in the bed and pulled his covers over you, urging you to lay down. Once you did, the two of you laid in silence and in the darkness side by side—besides the flash of lightning here and there that briefly illuminated your bodies. You looked over at him in the dark, watching his silhouette. “Sunghoon, I—”

Your mouth clamped shut. How do you even bring something like ‘cutting someone’s heart out’ up? How do you do it without confirming to yourself and revealing to him that you love him deeply? How would he react to it all? You didn’t want your relationship to change, but this road had to be crossed. You had let him know that your time was limited together—that you only had roughly another two weeks before you’d be seafoam.

How there is no salvation waiting for you at the end of all of this.

You decided that it had to wait another day. One where it wasn’t storming and you could see each other’s faces. Sunghoon deserved that.

“Thank you…” you trailed instead, swallowing the lump in your throat. “For all that you’ve done for me thus far. I can't tell you how much it all means to me.” You felt him shift and though you didn’t physically see his face, you felt the weight of his eyes on you.

In a quiet voice, you added, “How much you mean to me.”

The warmth of his body next to yours was suddenly too much for you. How different everything felt was, once again, overwhelming. It took everything in you not to cry.

“You mean a lot to me, too,” Sunghoon said in the same quiet voice as you. “More than you know.”

His arms reached out towards you and his touch felt like sparks along your body. They wrapped around your body and pulled you closer to him, until your head was resting on his chest and you could hear his quickening heartbeat as his chest rose and fell. It made you want to cry even more. The sea witch was so cruel. How dare she ask this horrid thing of you? You’d rather die than hurt Sunghoon—and at the end of this, you would.

“I'm glad that you came in. I actually can’t sleep that well during storms,” Sunghoon said. You looked up at him and you could almost make out his face. “And your presence is always a welcome one. Makes me feel calmer.”

You smiled to yourself, your face heating. “I think I can help with that…” you trailed. Sunghoon looked down and hummed in question. You continued, “There’s a lullaby my mother used to sing to me as a child when I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it’ll help you too.” You began to hum the start of it softly.

Like magic, Sunghoon felt his body begin to get heavy and his eyes struggled to stay open. He yawned and you stopped humming briefly to giggle before continuing. He pulled you even closer, to the point where you were practically almost on top of him. Sunghoon just couldn’t get over the way you smelled like the sea waves. It reminded him so much of everything he loves.

In no time at all he was drifting into a peaceful sleep. Sunghoon felt like the calm ripples of waves were all around him and next to him was you—the beautiful maiden who had come from the waves, capturing his heart and singing your beautiful lullabies.

Sunghoon was past smitten, was past falling, he was in deep. Deeper than he’s ever been before and the more time he spent with you, the farther down he went willingly. Sunghoon was in love with you, he just needed some way to put his emotions into words and tell you. He needed to find the perfect moment. There was doubt in his mind about you not feeling the same.

The weather had grown colder than usual, especially during the night. When you and Sunghoon weren’t working around the lighthouse, you were both in the house by the fire, talking about nothing and everything. You had just come back inside from relighting the oil lamp at the top of the lighthouse to find Sunghoon waiting for you in the living room. “It’s really cold out there!” you exclaimed with a laugh as you walked towards where he sat at the armchair.

Sunghoon has just come from lighting the fireplace in his bedroom, where you’ve been sleeping ever since that night a week ago when you came in during a storm. Sunghoon extended his hand towards you and you intertwined your fingers with his. He quickly pulled you to him and you fell into his lap with a squeal while he laughed. “Let me warm you up then, my love,” Sunghoon chuckled, pressing warm kisses to your cold cheeks.

The fire in the downstairs hearth was already merely warm embers and it was nearly time for bed. Sunghoon pressed a lasting kiss to your lips, both of your mouths moving in sync before you had to break away for air. You stared into his warm brown eyes with wide eyes, lips just a breath away from each other. Sunghoon’s hand was cupping your cheek and for a moment, it was just the two of you in the whole world. You’d do anything to stay in this moment forever.

You inhaled sharply before kissing him again, and you knew that this time you were about to cross a threshold that you’d never be able to walk across again. It was full of that same passion and want from the first kiss the two of you shared. In the midst of it, you twisted in his lap, hiking up your nightgown and straddling him as your lips worked against each other’s.

Sunghoon’s hands immediately trailed up your thighs and sat along your hips. His breath caught in his throat for a moment and he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to garner it, all the while his eyes hungrily took in every inch of you that he could. Sunghoon shifted a little, his chest rising and falling with vigor. His shaking fingers closed around the fabric at your hips and his eyes fluttered shut before he closed the distance between the two of you again.

It felt like the jar you kept all your love for him began to crack until it finally exploded, letting all the love you held flow freely. It was too much to contain—too powerful to control. There was no stopping it and it only grew more and more. You didn’t think that you wanted to stop it—in fact, you wanted it to flow more. It felt as if there was fire in the pit of your belly, making your skin hot and your head clouded. It was so dizzying, but so exciting at the same time. The river of your love flooded everything until it was only you and Sunghoon that was afloat.

You pulled away from Sunghoon’s lips just enough to speak. “Take me,” you whispered lowly. You saw the way his eyes widened and his grasp on your nightgown moved to his fingers softly digging into the skin at your hips. You didn’t care if he took you right there in the chair you both were sitting in, you needed him with a desire that couldn’t be quelled—a need that you don’t think will ever be fulfilled no matter how much of himself he gave you. It tangled together with all of your other inner desires until he was the core of them all, and you didn’t mind it one bit.

“Please,” you begged Sunghoon before placing your lips back on his with a hot kiss.

Sunghoon moved with urgency, but you could tell that he was conflicted on whether to give you your ask or not. At first, it was with his lips—they moved against yours almost sloppily, like he couldn’t bring himself to even kiss you properly if that meant his lips leaving yours for even a second. It wasn’t until you began to push him further against the soft velvet of the chair and leant his head back that he sat the two of you up so you were no longer leaning back against it at all. It seemed like it took everything in him to rip his lips away from yours, and you felt the coldness on your own when they were gone like a plunge into freezing-cold water. He stood the two of you up and you intertwined your hand with his and led him up the stairs.

When the two of you made it to his room, you let go of his hand as he stoked the fire. You pulled off your white nightgown and let it fall to the floor below. You then crawled onto his bed as you waited, completely naked. The warmth of the flames made your already hot skin feel like it was scorching. The longer you waited for Sunghoon to get the fire going, the more your heart raced and raced and you had to try and calm yourself down.

Sunghoon froze when he saw you on his bed, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. You looked like an angel descended from the heavens just for him and he wondered to himself how he got to be so lucky to witness your beauty like this. He watched as the flickering light bathed you in warm hues and made your hair glitter with all of the pearls strung in it. You smiled at him shyly, your gaze casting down for a moment before looking back up at him. You looked so beautiful that it truly took Sunghoon’s breath away; and it took him a couple shaky inhales to realize he was just standing in the middle of the room and gaping at you.

He wasted no time, stripping off his own clothes before climbing onto his bed and on top of you, his lips latching with yours in a heated kiss. You had barely gotten to look over him yourself before he raised against you a need of a thousand suns, rivaling your own. It made you melt that Sunghoon needed you as much as you needed him.

You moaned against his lips as the tips of his fingers slowly slid down in between the two of you and down to where you needed to feel him the most. It shot tingles along your skin and made the fire in the pit of your belly burn brighter. With his thumb, he rubbed slow circles at the sensitive bud and made your back arch off of the bedsheets. Your breath hitched and you whimpered into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

The feeling he provided you was unlike any that you have ever felt before. With just his thumb, Sunghoon gave you a glimpse of Heaven and it made you nervous for when he eventually gave you more. The thought made you slick with arousal and needy for even more. Your hips rose towards his hand on their own and you broke your mouth away from his just so you could try and get any oxygen to your lungs that you could. It was no use—every slow and deliberate motion pushed waves throughout your body and flooded it with a deep craving. You could feel Sunghoon’s smile against the skin at the crook of your neck as his hand continued to work, your body shivering as he pressed gentle kisses against it.

You kissed him again to keep yourself from drowning. Did it always feel like this? You were sure that it didn’t, that only Sunghoon could make you feel like this—bring you to your knees with just a simple motion like it was absolutely nothing. It astonished you and upset you in the same breath how easily Sunghoon pulled emotions from you. You didn’t stand a chance against him, and he was only getting started.

Sunghoon’s thumb then traveled down farther, spreading your arousal between your folds and having you whining. The sound of wetness broke through the crackling of the flame. His warm hands sent electricity through your body and you didn’t know how much more you’d be able to take if he didn’t do something about it. By now, you knew he was teasing you and seeing how far he could bring you with just his hand alone while his other hand grazed along every inch of your skin it could reach. It sneakily rose up your stomach and to your breast while you were distracted by his thumb ghosting across your entrance. Sunghoon’s other thumb then ran along your perked nipple and you nearly jumped. He smiled against your lips cheekily and you knew that it would be up to you to put an end to this torment. You were having no more of it.

You pulled away from his lips, your chest rising and falling heavily as your brows knitted together. “I need you,” you begged in a low voice, it sounded raspy with want and that alone sent Sunghoon ablaze.

Sunghoon then slipped a finger inside of you and you gasped and held onto him tighter. He watched as your face twisted into one of pleasure as he slowly began to pump it in and out of you, savoring the way your body reacted to him and his touch. It smothered every word from your mouth until you were a heap of whimpers and soft moans. When Sunghoon slipped in another finger, curling them at just the right angle to have you melt underneath him, you swear you felt the wave take you under. He held down your hips with his hand that was once at your breast so you couldn’t grind against his hand.

“Does that feel good, darling?” Sunghoon asked you. He knew that it did, the way your moans increased in volume and you sucked his fingers in deeper was confirmation enough. But, he needed to hear you say it. He needed to hear the way your voice sounded at the height of your most vulnerable and pleasurable moment and know that it sounded that way all because of him.

You clawed at his exposed back, supple for the taking, and Sunghoon chuckled. Your voice came out hushed in arousal and breathy. “It feels unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… I need more of it. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

You’ve never felt pleasure like this before and it made you angry that you waited so long with Sunghoon. The way he repeatedly pushed his slender fingers inside you, coating them with your wetness and pressing them against just the right places, made every withering scale and the debilitating pain worth it. As long as you got to be with him, everything was worth it.

Sunghoon pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck and to your breasts, the tips of his dark hair tickling you and sending you into more of a frenzy. His tongue circled your nipple before he pulled away. You were writhing beneath him and soft moans fell more from your lips at the way his fingers moved. They only got louder when Sunghoon would curl them at just the right moment and press them up against your sweet spot.

He watched with a satisfied smile as you tried to press your legs together, a whimpering mess and your body trembling. Sunghoon pushed one of your legs away with his free hand, his fingers splaying across the back of your thigh and keeping it up towards your chest. Soon, he felt your walls clench around his fingers tighter than they did previously before you were covering them in a pretty pearly white. But, Sunghoon wasn’t finished with you just yet. He was determined to make this the best night of your life.

Helping you ride out your high, he brought his lips back down to yours as he slowly pumped his fingers inside you. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to fill your lungs up with oxygen, but you still turned the slow kiss into a deeper one.

Sunghoon trailed his kiss from your lips to along your jaw and down the curve of your neck. His kisses didn’t stop there like you expected them to, though. They circled your breasts and he moved leisurely down the soft skin of your stomach and further still. You held your breath, and Sunghoon’s fervent gaze flicked up to yours. His eyes were blown out and shadowed with desire, and the warm light blanketing him from the fire in the hearth made it even more apparent. Sunghoon pulled his fingers from out of you, much to your dismay, and pushed your other leg up to chest as well. Your release still coating his fingers shined in the firelight and spilling out of you.

You jolted when Sunghoon kissed down to your sensitive clit, despite his touch being as soft and gentle as a feather. He didn’t look away from you, and you rose onto your elbows so you could watch him better. Your brows knitted together and your face twisted with pleasure as he pressed feather-light kisses against your core. Sunghoon's lips were glossy from your release, but that didn’t stop him. He licked them clean, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as he inhaled deeply, before his tongue darted out taste more. You gasped and grasped at his bedsheets.

He licked a thick, wet stripe up your core and licked his lips again before diving into you like a man who was starved most of his life. Sunghoon's eyes left yours and closed completely. He didn’t spare a single inch of your glistening folds, and if it hadn’t been for his firm hands keeping your thighs at your chest you would’ve crushed his head with them because of it. Sunghoon hummed in satisfaction and your elbows gave out weakly. He chuckled, his gaze flicking up to you for a moment, and your back arched completely off of the bed. “Oh my,” you moaned, words dying immediately when Sunghoon started to suck on your sensitive bud. You felt like you had to scream and your fingernails digging into the sheets wasn’t enough.

“I can’t…” you trailed through a broken whine, your back arching more in a futile attempt to bring Sunghoon's mouth even closer. Shallow moans pushed through your lips as he continued to devour you. There was one thing that you knew for sure as your body reached a high sensitivity that you thought was impossible—Sunghoon was absolute heaven, but his mouth and his fingers were complete hell.

Right before you were about to unravel again completely, Sunghoon suddenly stopped. You didn’t realize your eyes were squeezed shut until they flew open and looked down at him confused. “Wha-What?” you breathed.

Sunghoon kissed up your body—this time with longer distances between them—and left wet kiss marks behind him against your skin. He captured your lips with his and you tasted your sweetness on his tongue. You pulled him so close to you that your lips could barely move against his—and it still wasn’t close enough. His cock dragged across right where you needed him and you moaned into his mouth. Your arms unwrapped themselves from around his neck and dragged down his chest to the soft ridges at his abdomen that tightened with your touch. Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat and you watched the way his brows furrowed in barely concealed need before he tried to collect himself.

“Are you ready, baby?” Sunghoon asked you in a soft voice, breaking away from your lips. You nodded eagerly. You were more than ready.

You leaned forward more and reached your hand out to touch him, more curious really than anything. Your fingers trailed along his fat cockhead and down his length before you wrapped them around it completely. Sunghoon swayed, and you could tell that your simple touch alone was enough to send him reeling. This time, it was you who took satisfaction in the other’s pleasure and the corners of your mouth rose. Slowly, you pulled your hand up while gripping firmly. Sunghoon's fingers dug into the plush skin of your thighs and he breathed rigorously when you pushed your hand back down. When you did, you noticed that you dragged wetness back down his cock with you. It made your smile grow more.

Sunghoon crept a hand up your stomach and gently pushed you back down to the bed. you held onto him for as long as you could and when your hand closed around his tip, Sunghoon let out a low moan. Ever so slightly, you felt the way his hand trembled. Without him saying a single word, you could hear his voice at your ear. “Tonight is about you, not me.”

Sunghoon lined himself up with your entrance and dragged the tip of his cock through your folds and coated his tip with your arousal. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid into you inch by inch. You gasped loudly at the feeling of his cock stretching you out so deliciously and the feeling of being so full, so completely enraptured by him. Once he was fully inside of you, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. As your lips moved in sync with his, you wrapped your legs around his hips to bring him closer to you.

Sunghoon started to rut his hips forward, repeatedly pushing himself inside of you. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning at how good you felt around him, at how beautiful you looked underneath him with your pretty moans and your face full of blissful pleasure. It started to upset him a little that the fire would eventually go out and the two of you would have to stop and return to your daily life.

The two of you tried to pull each other impossibly closer. It was an eager war between you both that would have no winner no matter how hard the two of you tried—you wanted each other too much. You were sure that the only way you’d both find any semblance of satisfaction is if you both were to claw at each other’s skin and climb inside of it. You were both desperate for each other’s touch and no matter how close you were, it was never close enough.

You pulled away from Sunghoon’s lips after fighting the urge to breathe for too long, still not used to the feeling of having to battle for air, and buried your face in his neck. He pressed chaste kisses to your shoulder as your bodies moved in motion. It was like two waves colliding over and over again.

Your body felt hot and its temperature only grew and grew. Each time you touched Sunghoon, it felt like you were touching the surface of the sun. A loud drumming rang in your ears, just below the sound of you and Sunghoon’s moans, and it took you a moment to realize that it was a heartbeat. Only, you weren’t sure if it was yours or not. When you touched Sunghoon, you swear you could feel the thumping of his heart beneath his skin and how it rang in time with yours. Perhaps, both of your hearts had fallen in sync with each other—at least, just for the moment where the two of you shared everything. From your body to his, the two of you were finally one.

Sunghoon's thrusts picked up pace and it made your head spin. the pressure from the previous build-up crashed into you and full force and you felt your body lock up. Your chest pressed into Sunghoon’s as your back arched more off of the bed and your head dug into the pillow underneath your head. Sunghoon didn’t stop, his hips continued to hit off of yours and it added the sound of skin slapping against each other to the stunning symphony the two of you were creating. Jaw falling slack, waves of pretty moans swam up from your throat and filled Sunghoon’s ears.

He fell completely entranced, somehow even more than he already was by you. It was like you lit the lamp inside of his head and the sudden flood of light that illuminated everything was you. You were everything.

Sunghoon felt his abdomen tense and he knew he had to reel himself back, but he couldn’t. It felt like an unearthly task with you under him like this. How could he deny himself of this—deny you of this? It would be almost inhumane, he thinks. Your body pulled him in like he was caught in a deadly current and your legs tightened around his hips like the trap he willingly walked in to set it off and it was perfect. You are perfect. Sunghoon could barely move now, but that didn’t matter to either of you with the way you wrapped around each other.

Inside of you, you felt the rope of pleasure start to fray and begin to snap. You whimpered, breathing heavily as you looked up at Sunghoon and the thin sheen of sweat that made him glow even more. “Please,” you begged him, whining as your back arched off the bed again and your hips pathetically tried to lift towards his. “Please.”

Your head felt too clouded and it took all your effort to even say that simple word. You were so close, so-so close to seeing heaven again—this time the full thing in its divine glory. Your body never felt like this before, tingly all over and on fire. It was such a stark contrast to how it felt when you were a mermaid. Did humans always feel like this, or was this purely from Sunghoon’s actions? Your eyes opened and when you only saw Sunghoon, his face of pure bliss and his body shining and bathed in warm hues, you knew that this was the divinity you were seeking.

You weakly sat up, wrapping your arms around Sunghoon’s neck for leverage. The two of you breathed heavily in tandem, and you didn’t need to speak for Sunghoon to know what you intended to do. He leaned back on his knees and splayed his hands across your hips. A desperate need overtook your senses as you rocked your hips against his in time with the way he pushed into you and the both of you moaned at the new sudden feeling. Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours and delighted you in the feeling of him unraveling and trying desperately to stay sane. He was losing.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “So perfect.”

He sloppily smashed his lips against yours, too eager to kiss you properly with how good you were making each other feel. It felt like your bodies were made for each other—like the two of you were made for each other.

Soon, the rope completely snapped and you moaned loudly against his lips, body shaking as your movement halted. More whines and moans fell from your parted lips as Sunghoon kept moving your hips. You held him tightly, scared that if you were to let go you would fall apart completely or that he would get caught up in the wind from the ocean and wear away.

It wasn’t long after that you felt warmness spill inside you. Sunghoon stilled, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his breathing coming out haggard. Soft moans emitted from him and for a moment the two of you caught your breaths in blissful silence.

Once you felt like you weren’t in the clouds, a shy giggle escaped you. Sunghoon looked up from your neck, an amused smile on his face. “What?” he asked, bringing his hand up to cradle your cheek. You shook your head as you giggled more, kissing him briefly. You intertwined your hand with his other.

“That was heavenly,” you smiled, your face completely hot. Sunghoon’s thumb caressed the warm skin of your cheek before his hand trailed down to catch hold of your chin. He kissed you again with a grin. “Is it always like that?” you wondered.

Sunghoon laughed, shaking his head a little. “Not in my experience—no. Nothing close to that,” he replied. “You’re just special.”

A sheepish smile tugged at your face and you looked away from his gaze. Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your jaw and you giggled more as he pressed another to you until you turned to look at him again. “Come on,” he murmured against your skin, “Lets get you cleaned up, darling.”

After the two of you were cleaned up, you laid together on his bed beneath the covers still bare, the dwindling firelight illuminating the two of you. Your back was to Sunghoon's chest and he trailed the tips of his fingers along your shoulder and arm, sometimes softly kissing them.

You turned to face him and he fondly smiled down at you, causing his expression to mirror on your own face. He leaned down to kiss you. “My pearl,” Sunghoon whispered affectionately before kissing you again.

The next day, the air around you and Sunghoon was charged. No longer were the touches fleeting nor the two of you shared longing glances. Everything was practically out in the open now, one of you just had to bridge the gap completely.

A deep rooted sensation bubbled inside you and you could only describe it as fear. You had to tell Sunghoon about the sea witch’s deal, and you had to do it today. You were running out of time—with only a week left—and it couldn’t be put off any longer. You couldn’t live in this fantasy you’ve put yourself in any longer.

It made the fear in the pit of your stomach worse when you noticed how Sunghoon looked at you—how he always looked at you. It was full of love and hope and yearning. You could almost see the words forming at the tip of his tongue without him needing to say anything. You noticed how he would take any chance he could to touch you or be in your general vicinity, even if he was supposed to be working on something else around the lighthouse. It was something that he has always done, but now it’s different.

It made you feel guilty that you waited until the last moment to say anything.

Sunghoon couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for the whole day. He kept falling behind in his duties because he was too busy focusing on you. Too focused on the way your dress swayed as you moved, or the way the pearls in your hair glittered in the sunlight, completely free from the up-do that the women of the village wore. Or the way you smiled at him every time you caught him staring—that smile that he would do anything and everything for. Each time your skin brushed against his he was brought back to last night and the heat between the two of you. It made his head spin each time, but he couldn’t stop getting close to you.

The fire lighting the lighthouse was nothing compared to the fire that burned in his heart for you, so blinding that it was the only thing he could make out. You set him alight, made his skin hot and his cheeks rosy. Sunghoon felt like he didn’t even need his thicker, wool clothes with you around him. You made his heart race and race until he was sure it would go jumping out of his chest and into your gentle awaiting hands.

How could he not love you? From the moment he saw you it felt like something clicked into place within himself. Like you were the final piece he’s been waiting for and he was now complete. You completed him.

If you were the lighthouse, Sunghoon was the boats and ships drawn to your light with the excitement of land. For the rest of his days, his soul would desperately call out to yours until you came home to him. He was the moth and you were the flame—and he would gladly get burned by your heat if that meant he could be with you, however brief.

You were the springtime with the promise of pretty, blooming flowers. The sunlight bouncing off the ripples of the sea and the cool air that flowed up from it. You were the shadows that the leaves cast on the ground, the sun that peaked through them, and the calming sound of the remnants of waves hitting the rocks. Sunghoon could shout from the top of the lighthouse everything he adored about you, but by the time he would be anywhere even remotely close to finishing you both would be old and grey, skin wrinkled from all the times you made him laugh and smile.

Today was the day, he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn't keep it locked inside him any longer.

After the two of you finished everything for the day, Sunghoon pulled you inside and away from the chilling winds. He had to calm his heart from its rapid drumming when you giggled and smiled at him, asking what the two of you were doing. When you intertwined your hand with his, he almost spilled his words then and there. Sunghoon sat you on the couch and nervously twiddled his thumbs as he forced the words from his mouth, and once he started he found it even harder to stop.

“I love you,” Sunghoon finally breathed. “I love you so much that it’s too much to contain. It spills out of me like uncontrollable rivers. I could tell you over and over and it still wouldn’t be enough—I love you, I love you, I love you!”

He grasped your hands in his, desperately holding onto them as he stared into your eyes with furrowed brows. Nothing would be able to capture Sunghoon's love for you and it frustrated him to no end, yet, it didn’t stop him from trying. “I love you like the water loves the land. Like the sun loves the moon and all of the stars in the sky,” he finally concluded.

You stared at him with a melancholic look and for a moment Sunghoon thought that he might’ve been mistaken. That he read into you a little too much. But, all his worries were eased when you flung yourself into his arms and into his lap, making him fall back against the couch from the edge. You kissed him so passionately that it took his breath away again, but he was content with the burning in his lungs.

“I love you,” you told him, like you had discovered the secrets to the world and it all lied within him. “You paint all of my skies the most saturated colors of blue like I've never seen before. You’re the air in my lungs and the beating of my heart—oh, I love you so much!”

All Sunghoon could do was laugh joyously as he held you close to him, planting a million and one kisses onto your face as you, too, laughed. He didn't think he’d ever be this happy in his life, and it was all because of you. No longer were his days lonely and grey; they were filled with the most magnificent colors and your presence. He heard your voice in the wind and it swam all the way down to his heart. You were why he woke up in the morning, and the reason why he was so eager to go to sleep. You are everything.

You didn’t realize the tears that began to fall down your face, or how the overwhelming fear in your stomach came to the surface until you got a good look at Sunghoon’s happy face. You inhaled sharply before it was all too much and you broke down completely. At first, Sunghoon thought they were happy tears until he saw the way you violently shook and his smile faltered.

He pulled you to his chest as his hand rubbed comforting circles against your back. “You're crying, my pearl? Why are you sad?” he asked you gently, pulling you away from him so he could see your face.

You shook your head, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I'm happy! I'm so happy for the first time in my life and it’s because of you,” you started. “Only, I'm still that naive girl I was when I first washed up on your shore, because this can’t last…”

Sunghoon's brows drew together further. “What do you mean, my love?”

And so you told him everything. Right from the beginning. About how when you were a mermaid you dreamed of having legs like the landwalkers did, dreamed of walking on land and leading a human life. You told him how you would watch the villagers and then how the lighthouse caught your attention and you saw him from the water for the very first time and knew that he would always have your heart. You told him of the childhood story your father used to tell you of the mermaid who wished for legs and the sea witch who granted it. It was easier to tell him things that he already knew, and you knew you were just procrastinating the truth. But, you really didn’t want to watch the happiness strip off of him when you did.

Finally, you told him about how you sought out said sea witch and found her, making a wish for legs of your very own. About the precedent of the deal and how it required you to cut out the beating heart of the human who you loved the most—him. Then, you told him how you could never go through with it, how you’d rather throw yourself to the sea and become seafoam before ever thinking of hurting him. You should’ve left that very first day for the village when you had the chance. You both never should’ve fallen in love with each other, now you both are in danger.

Sunghoon sat quietly with a slight look of horror as you spoke, intently listening to every word that fell from your mouth. “Don't you see why I told you it was dangerous for us to get closer? Why it’s not safe?” you cried. “And it’s all my fault… I should've insisted that you take me to the village instead of staying. Now we only have a week left before I leave you forever.”

Another moment passed as you cried and cried and Sunghoon held you as tightly as he could, fearful that you’d crumble completely in his arms. He struggled to wrap his mind around the whole thing—around the fact that your time together was limited. He didn’t want to believe it. A part of him hoped that this was all just a test of true love from the sea witch. That she’d come up from the waves and grant you the life that you deserved fully and then you and him would run off into your new lives together, hand in hand. But, Sunghoon knew deep down that that wasn’t the case. This was it. This was the only time you both had left together. It wasn't fair—yet, if given the chance, he’d do it all again with you.

Sunghoon couldn’t bear living without you, that was the only stable thought in his mind.

It was so cruel. Sunghoon desperately needed more time with you. The two of you were supposed to have the rest of your lives together and now everything was cut so short. How was he supposed to go on after this without you? Sunghoon took your face in his hands and gently wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. It broke his heart to see you so sad, so… defeated. All Sunghoon wanted to see was your beautiful smile again. To make you laugh and tell you to let all of your worries wash away—but he couldn’t.

“Why did you think I'd let you sacrifice yourself for me?” Sunghoon asked. As if he’d let you do such a ridiculous thing. He would rather carve out his heart himself and throw it to the sea if it meant you could keep the life you dreamed of.

You threw his words back at him. “Why did you think I'd let you sacrifice yourself for me? It’s not a life if you aren’t in it.”

“Because my heart already beats for you.” Sunghoon said it like it was the simplest thing ever. You shook your head at his words but Sunghoon just nodded. “It does. And I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted, even if it’s at the cost of my own life.”

“No…” you shook your head as more tears fell from your watery eyes. “No,” you stated more firmly. “This life means nothing to me without you. I'm not giving her your heart and neither are you. It'll be hard when I'm gone, but it will get easier with time. We just have to make the most of the week we have left.”

Sunghoon just tilted his head at you and shook his head as tears of his own fell from his eyes. It wouldn't get easier, and no matter how close he held you, it wouldn’t be close enough. He pressed his lips to yours, a slow and wanting kiss, as he tried to beg Time to show the two of you mercy.

In the days leading towards the end of the month you were given, you and Sunghoon spent every waking moment together. Duties were cast aside to only its bare bones and deemed unimportant. You spent time leaving little pieces of yourself on the tiny island. You had taken some of the pearls from your hair and sewn them onto the hat that Sunghoon always wore; he even let you weave some of them into the strands of his hair.

He had asked what you were doing, and when you told him you saw his heart break.

The two of you had walked down to the dock and you stripped down to the last layer of the clothes you wore as he watched you. You haven’t really touched the ocean since you washed up on the shore from it. A part of you was terrified that if you did your tail would grow back or the sea witch would scoop you up again. So each time you and Sunghoon walked along the beach at sunset, you had always skirted around the water and stayed in the sand instead. But, this was more important than that. You just hoped that swimming as a human wasn’t that difficult and it came easily to you.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, my pearl?” Sunghoon asked you as he held your clothes in his arms. The coming summer sun beat down on him, and you finally understood why his eyes sparkled each time he looked at you. The pearls sewn on his hat and twisted between his dark strands of hair made him look ethereal. Even more beautiful than he already was. It made you wonder if there was a version of the two of you somewhere where he sacrificed his legs for a tail instead.

Your own pearls in your hair had dwindled significantly since you gave the majority of yours to him. There was one pearl, though, that you didn’t own. One that you needed to give to him before you left.

“Not exactly,” you said, “But it’s important.”

You sat down on the edge of the dock and dipped your feet into the water to test them. Even though your back was turned to him, you could feel how Sunghoon held his breath along with you. There was silence between the two of you, and after a moment of absolutely nothing, you looked back at him with a grin. As soon as you smiled at him, Sunghoon's whole face lit up. You turned back to the water and slid in.

Your head went beneath the surface and you were expecting to be able to breathe until you remembered that you weren’t a mermaid anymore. This was going to be a lot more difficult than you were initially expecting it to be, but you were determined. When you surfaced again, you gasped out for air and squeezed your eyes shut from the sunlight shining directly in them. When you opened them again, Sunghoon was at the very edge of the dock—your clothes strewn to the side—looking worriedly at you. His mouth opened to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I’m okay, I'm okay. Don't worry, my love.” you beamed up at him as you swam to the dock and held on to the edge. Oh, how you missed the salty water against your skin. “I’m gonna dive down now, but don’t worry about me, okay?”

Sunghoon smiled at you. “I'll never not worry about you.”

You laughed a little before pushing up on the dock a little so you could bring your lips to his for a chaste kiss. When you moved to turn, Sunghoon called out your name and you turned back to him in question. He gently took your face in his hands and kissed you hard. If you weren’t already above the surface, you would’ve thought that you were drowning—and you would’ve sunk down to the depths happily. You smiled against his lips and the two of you kissed until heat spread throughout your faces and you were forced to pull away.

“I love you, my pearl.” Sunghoon kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll be back!” you exclaimed through a laugh. That didn’t matter to Sunghoon, though. He just needed to remind you of it—needed to hear you say it again.

“I know,” Sunghoon says. “I still love you.”

You smiled at him, bigger and brighter than before. “I love you.”

Sinking back down into the water, you began swimming down to the bottom of the ocean floor. It was a bit awkward at first, but the water was like second nature to you and you quickly got the hang of it. You weren’t sure if you would have enough breath to find the pearl that you were looking for, but you’d try and try again until you did.

And you did try. A few times you had to resurface for air and when you did, you found that you were in a different place completely and Sunghoon was just a speck along the horizon still waiting on the dock for you. You worked as quickly as you could with the timer hanging above you. You didn’t want to spend too much time in the water and away from him.

You nearly cried tears of joy when you tickled the oyster and coaxed it open. There it was, the beautiful black set of pearls that you were looking for. They reminded you of the time you snuck to the surface and saw an array of colors against the nighttime sky. It was an alluring light show that you still can’t believe you managed to witness.

It also made you remember the time your father had shown you pearls like these. They were his and your mother’s—a symbol of the purest and eternal love between two people, your father had said. He told you of how one day, you and another would exchange them on the day you were to be wed and the pearl would be the foremost adornment with all of the other pearls in your hair. You held the memory fondly, even if that life was miles away now. You began to wonder what your people thought of your disappearance, but you thought better of it. There was no use making yourself sad when this was supposed to be a happy occasion.

You swam back as fast as you could to Sunghoon, with the sun still hanging high in the sky.

When you surfaced at the dock again, you nearly scared Sunghoon out of his skin. His eyes were scanning the water and when they landed on you suddenly in front of him, he nearly fell into it. You giggled at him and he helped you up onto the dock, immediately shedding off his thin jacket to place over your shoulders. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Sunghoon asked, and you nodded ecstatically.

You took his hand and pulled him away from the sea while Sunghoon tried not to focus on the way the white cotton fabric stuck to your skin and became almost translucent. When you were in the sand again, you turned to him and held open the hand that clutched the black pearls for him to see. Sunghoon's eyes widened, and he looked down at them before quickly looking back up at you. You nodded at him, and he took one of the pearls between two of his fingers to examine it.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sunghoon breathed as he held it up to the sunlight. He then smiles ear to ear and turns towards you. “It's almost as beautiful as you are, my darling.”

You shyly look away from him, heat creeping across your wet cheeks and your heart fluttering. “Under the sea,” you started, catching his loving stare, “a pearl like this is very special. Typically, you only receive one like it on your wedding day. It's a symbol of how your love for your partner is pure and eternal. You tie it in each other’s hair and it’s the one pearl that you never unweave.” Your eyes widened a little as the sudden implication hit you, and you opened your mouth to explain more to Sunghoon but he was already taking your hair between his fingers.

You looked at him from between your lashes as you watched him weave the black pearl into your hair. His brows were knitted together with his focus and you could feel his breath fan across your cheeks from how close he was to you. When he was finished, he held the hair with the black pearl weaved into it in his hand and smiled.

“There we go,” Sunghoon spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Your turn.”

An enamored smile slowly spread across your face and you took a bit of his dark hair and began to weave the black pearl into it. Sunghoon watched you the entire time, his eyes full of so much love that it looked like it was going to spill from his stare at any moment. It felt like a warm and comforting blanket around you, and you didn’t know what you were going to do without it. After you were done, you took a moment to admire him and you could tell he was doing the same to you. You tried your hardest to commit every aspect of him to memory.

You reached your hand up and gingerly touched the black pearl in his hair with a smile. You then delicately touched his pale skin and trailed the tips of your fingers along the moles that prettied it. There was a pang in your chest and your heart began to ache. You were going to miss him.

“It reminds me of your scales—the pearl,” said Sunghoon after a while. You caught his gaze, shock written all throughout your expression. “They're more blue, but they have the same reflection the pearl has.”

In that moment, a desire hidden deep within you—so deep that you didn’t know it even existed—bubbled up to the surface and jumped out of your body. Tears sprang to your eyes and Sunghoon cradled your cheek with his hand, his brows furrowed. Never in your life have you felt seen like Sunghoon makes you feel seen. He took both sides of you—the mermaid and the newfound human—and held them both close to his soul like they were one. He loved you no matter the change.

You couldn’t even begin to express to him how you were feeling, you could barely even get your words out. All you could manage to choke out was: “You’ve seen them?”

The two of you turned to where you had washed up almost a month ago now. The scales that were once a part of your tail are long gone, swept back into the sea with the storm where they belonged to never be seen by you again. You had checked for them, but you were already too late. Sunghoon nodded, looking to you. “I had meant to ask you about them when you first woke up that day, but it completely slipped my mind. I kept some of them.”

Tears slid down your cheeks and he wiped them for you before leading you back to the house. When the two of you got there, Sunghoon dug around in his heavy coats for the one he wore that night before pulling it out. He then dug in the pockets before pulling his hand out. Sunghoon outstretched his hand to you, a couple of your shifting blue scales in his palm. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands before reaching out for them. Your hand hovered above his before you drew it back. Instead, you closed Sunghoon's hand around them again.

“Keep them close to your heart,” you said, wiping your tears as you smiled happily at him. “A mermaid’s scale will bring you good luck.”

“Are you sure you don’t want them, my pearl?” he asked, and you shook your head. You had no use for them, and he needed them more than you did. If they would keep him safe and bring him good fortune, then that’s all you could ask for.

Sunghoon carefully placed them in the pocket of his cotton shirt under his waistcoat and it reminded you that you were practically naked in human terms. Your chemise was still damp and clung to your skin. You looked down at your clothes. “Oh,” you sheepishly chuckled. Sunghoon's eyes locked onto you and you could tell it’s been plaguing his mind this entire time. Your gaze flicked back up to him and you noticed how blown out his eyes were. You sheepishly chuckled more.

Grinning, Sunghoon took a step forward and wrapped his arms around you. “Is that all you have to say?” he teased. “‘Oh?’ Nothing else?” You shook your head, giggling, before kissing him. Sunghoon pulled back from you a little and in faux bewilderment, he said, “No? Nothing at all?” He brought his lips back to yours, muffling more of your giggles. He then backed you up towards where the hallway was as his fingers gripped at your wet chemise. Sunghoon went to pull it up, but you pushed it back down and hummed against his lips.

Breaking from his lips, you smirked at him before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

A storm had begun to brew along the horizon of the sea that left everything dark and cloudy. You knew that the storm was for you—for him, and it saddened you deeply. It also filled you with a grim determination. The sea witch wouldn’t have Sunghoon’s heart. You would die making sure that was true.

It felt as if all hope was lost. Like a blanket of complete darkness covered the two of you and you walked lost through it. The rest of the week was spent as if you both were mourning each other, and you were. Sunghoon just couldn’t believe that this would be the last time he would ever see you again—he refused to believe it. It hurt too much.

He ensured that he had as much physical attachments of you two together as possible, even going so far to hire a photographer and have your pictures taken. At night, he could hear you weeping and he couldn’t do anything to comfort you except hold you. It wasn't enough for either of you. How could the two of you possibly pretend to be happy when you both knew that the end was near? That the two of you were doomed from the very start?

It was like ice replaced all the warmth inside him and froze him down to the marrow in his bones. The only spark inside him was his undying love for you and you for him. Besides his limited time with you, it was the only thing that was keeping him going. Just getting a glimpse of your face, whether if it was next to him or from one of the pictures he had framed of the two of you, meant the world to him.

It felt strange to feel such deep and heartbreaking, mournful sorrow over someone who was still living. Like his one true love was already taken from him.

How would Sunghoon live on once you were gone? Everywhere he goes he would search for you, whether that be beneath the empty covers of his bed or between the flickering light of the lighthouse. Would he see someone at the village and think that it was you, only for them to turn and he’d see that it wasn’t? Would he see the glittering sunlight along the water and think that it was the pearls in your hair—that you’ve returned home to him? He couldn’t bear it all.

But, he couldn’t do anything to stop it. The final day was here and the storm that was previously brewing in the horizon raged on, demanding to be felt—demanding the heart it came for. Unease sunk deep into Sunghoon, and as you both watched the storm and harsh winds from the window he held you close.

“Please,” Sunghoon begged, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper and half-muffled from his face buried in your hair, “Please, don’t do this. We can figure out another way, just… just don’t go.”

Sunghoon had been crying all night and the storm didn’t help one bit. Even your lullaby only barely managed to make him fall asleep. He didn't want to miss a single precious second with you by sleeping. He had the rest of his life without you to sleep. He’d sleep when he throws himself to the sea years from now and beg the water to bury him next to you. Now wasn’t the time for it.

“It’s too late, my love,” you said somberly. You shifted to face him, tears welling in your eyes. “There's no other option. I have to do this. It's the only way… You’re the land and I'm the sea—we only touch for a brief moment.”

You pressed your lips to Sunghoon’s firmly, letting all your passion and love for him seep through it. No matter how much your lungs ached and your head pounded, you both didn’t break away. If it was going to be your last kiss, it would be one you’ll both remember forever.

Only when you felt like you were about to pass out did you gently pull away from him. A strike of lightning followed by a vicious roar of thunder sounded. “It is time,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You stood from the couch, forcing yourself to break away from Sunghoon and the life you cherished so deeply. You bent down to give him one last hug. “I love you, forever,” you said, “And I'll miss you for even longer.”

“I love you,” Sunghoon said, his voice breaking into a cry as tears slid down his face. “I miss you.” With bated breath, Sunghoon looked up at you through his tears, "I'm sorry.”

You shook your head at Sunghoon as you stood to your full height, your hand fell from his face as you wiped away his tears. You inhaled sharply and you got one last look at Sunghoon, one last look at him to burn into your mind before you turned to seafoam.

You took in every inch of him, down to the hat with your pearls sewn onto it discarded at his feet and the pearls woven into his dark hair as he ran his hands through it. You focused for a moment on the black pearl in his hair that you both shared and you hoped that when he looked at it too he would remember how much you love him. Sunghoon was so drastically different from when you first met him, yet, completely the same all at once. It broke your heart into a million pieces to see him this way and have it be all because of you.

Inhaling deeply, you turned your back to him before he could convince you to stay. Your hand lingered near the door and you turned back to him one last time. “Goodbye, my love, my Sunghoon.”

With your last goodbye, you opened the door and faced the storm.

There was no use in delaying the inevitable. You stomped towards the water, stripping off your clothes and your last shred of humanity. Anger permeated you, hot like the flame of the flickering lighthouse.

It was so unfair. It was so unfair that you couldn’t have the one thing you’ve ever wished for. But you guess that it was no easy wish going against nature. A thing belonging to the sea cannot step onto the land without consequences—and here you were, facing them. Walking headfirst back to the sea—to your own death—like one would if they had pockets full of stones.

You barely got to your knees in the water before red-hot pain spread throughout your legs, the same pain that you felt when they formed from your tail. Soon after you were falling to the water, your deep blue, color shifting tail emerging from behind you. You dived underwater, thankful for once that mermaids couldn’t cry.

You began to swim further out into the sea, watching as more and more of your body transformed back to its original state. The entire time you thought of the sea witch, of how you hated her and her cruelness. She did this to you—she let you dream of hope only to turn the lights back out. You never should’ve made that bargain. Maybe then you and Sunghoon could still be together. He'd wait at the dock for you and you’d wait at the shore for him, and it would be enough.

Above you, you saw the water ripple like something was dropped in. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it if not for the feeling against your tail. You stopped swimming and twisted to look behind you. Shock filled you and your eyes widened. Sunghoon swam towards you, clothes flowing in the water as he got closer.

No. What was he doing here? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is for him to be in the sea at this moment? You wanted to lecture him, scream at him—but, all that filled you was the immense love you have for him.

Sunghoon reached out his hands toward your face and gently grabbed your cheeks. He swam forward and placed his lips onto yours. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t let you go alone, that he would be there with you until the very end—even if you told him over and over that it would only make the pain worse.

You pulled away and let yourself smile at him one last time—for the first time as what you truly were. That smile quickly faltered when you saw all the red start to seep out from around the two of you, the feeling of something hard puncturing your chest.

Looking down, you gasped and bubbles of air floated towards the surface. Lodged in Sunghoon's chest was a knife with blood rapidly coming from it. You shook your head at him, brows knitting together in anguish, and Sunghoon just nodded.

You refused to let him do this—to let him die. To let him die for you. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be you, not him. You were supposed to be the sacrifice.

You linked your arms under his and swam as fast as you could to the shore, bringing Sunghoon towards the surface and fighting against the harsh waves. Every second felt like a grain of sand in an hourglass, and you didn’t have much sand left. You now know what he meant when Sunghoon said “I'm sorry.”

Sunghoon didn’t have much time, you knew that from the way he began to cough violently. You dragged him as far up on the shore and as far away from the water as you possibly could with the hindrance of your tail. You made sure not even the waves lapped up to the two of you. The sea witch wouldn’t have him, you will die making sure of it.

You started screaming for help until your voice was hoarse, but it was no use against the whipping winds of the storm. Nobody would hear you on this tiny island away from the village anyway. “Why?” you asked him, your voice breaking as tears fell from your face, “Why would you do this? The sea doesn’t deserve a heart like yours.”

Sunghoon grabbed your hands and brought them to the hilt of the blade in his chest. “Take it… It’s yours. It will always be yours,” he said hoarsely. Blood spilled past his lips and you cried harder. “Go, be free. Walk on land and live the life you’ve always wanted. Be human.”

He violently coughed more and more blood coated his lips.

“It's not a life I want if it isn’t with you,” you cried, removing your hands from the hilt and pressing them to his wound. Your hands were stained but the blood wouldn’t stop.

Sunghoon took your hands in his, “It’s not a world I want to live in if you’re not by my side, my pearl.”

With the last of his strength, Sunghoon wrapped his hands around the hilt and harshly pulled the blade from his chest. You cried out as more blood gushed from the wound and stained his shirt red. “No, no, no!” You sobbed louder with each word.

“Kiss.. me… One last time?” Sunghoon heaved in question. His eyes started to close but he fought to keep them open—he wouldn’t waste any more precious seconds. You couldn’t believe that it was all ending like this—that it all could come to this. You stupid, halfwitted, naive little guppy. How dare you dream of a life you could never have?

You sniffled and nodded. You didn’t care that his blood would be on your lips, you bent down to press yours to his anyway. As they moved in sync you could feel the life draining from him and you pulled away, letting him get as much oxygen as he possibly can. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Sunghoon smiled up at you and it was the last glimmer of light in the darkness as the rain poured down around the two of you. He cupped your face gently, his hand trembling. “My pearl…” he whispered, "I love you so much. I love you, forever.”

With those last words, Sunghoon's eyes closed and his hand fell from your face and into the wet sand below.

You looked down at him with wide, watery eyes. A loud sob ripped through you and you cried until your chest felt like exploding and you could barely see from the burning tears. You raised a shaky hand and placed it softly on Sunghoon’s chest where his heart resided. It no longer beat. He was gone, truly… gone.

You took the knife laying limply in his other hand and threw it as far away from the two of you as you could. You then laid your head on his chest like you did all those nights ago in the bed you shared, only, it wasn’t the same.

Sunghoon was gone. His warm body was now growing cold and his beating heart had stilled. All that was left was you—and soon, even you would cease to exist.

You felt tingling in your tail, little stabbing pains that would hurt if you didn’t feel so numb right now. You knew that you were withering away—turning into seafoam like the sea witch promised with only your bones and your heart to leave behind so she could collect it. You welcomed it, for you had nothing left.

Let her take your heart, so long as she doesn’t touch his.

Softly, you began to hum the lullaby your mother used to sing to you as a child. You hoped that it would aid Sunghoon on his journey beyond, that the storm would no longer make him anxious and instead he felt calm. That it would gently lull him to where he needed to be.

More tears slid down your wet cheeks from the lack of sound in his chest. How it didn’t rise and fall with his breathing. But, you continued humming.

The fin of your tail started to turn first. Seafoam overtook it and fell away into the sand in a pool of foamy white and bone. You closed your eyes as it spread further and further up your body. You hummed until you physically couldn’t anymore—until your entire body was seafoam and so were your lips. Until you were nothing but a beating heart against sunghoon’s still chest.

The storm began to melt away, the dark clouds very slowly rolling back towards the magic that casted them and the rain traveling upwards towards them. It is unknown how long the remnants of your bodies laid in the wet sand, curled into each other.

There was no telling where Sunghoon ended and you began.

Deep down below at the sea floor there is a rumbling. A loud, angry scream follows and it is said it can be heard for miles. The sea witch tries with all her might, but her waters are just too far away from where the two lovers lie. She is unable to take their hearts, for they are their own—they belong to each other and no one else. And soon after, your heart turns to seafoam too. The two of you, at once, were at home with each other.

While the law searches the tiny island to figure out what came of the lighthouse keeper, they find a picture of a woman with pearls in her hair—similar to the pearls found in the lighthouse keeper’s hair—and shifting blue scales. The picture and the scales were hidden in a pocket close to his chest and free from any blood. The woman was never found and the villagers have no recollection of her—despite the various photographs around the lighthouse keeper’s small home.

Through the breaking light of the dawn, it is said you can see two souls turn to one.

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✉️   ⦂   hey…. hey… i just want to say first and foremost and i am so unbelievably sorry for the pain i just put you all through LMAO <//3 can everyone make some noise for #realyearners tho?!?!?!!? btw, if any of you wanted to see all the changes / additions i made to the rework, then here is the original version! ♡ AND THANK YOU SO SO SOOO MUCH TO @yingelics FOR THE ABSOLUTELYYYYYY BEAUTIFUL DIVIDER ABOVE AAAA!!! (づ ￣ ³￣)づ♡♡♡♡♡

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[lomlando]

champagne pop || LN4

summary: you made podium! now time for the cool down room!

content warnings: mild language

word count: 1.5 k

pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader

SERIES: Messy || may be confusing if read as a standalone one-shot!

a/n: the longest part so far 😛 also i can not thank you all enough for all of the love this series has gotten so far I LOVE ALL OF YOU!

It was all a blur. 

The Grandstands. The cars rushing next to you. The chequered flag waving above as you flew under it. All of it blurred together through the blue tint of your visor. 

Your ears buzzed with cheers. You heard them, of course; they were so loud that the once great sound quality of your radio had mutated into some kind of barely manageable static. But you didn’t hear them. You were too busy taking everything in. You drove the circuit now, a lot slower than just a minute before. You could now make out the grandstands, mostly a sea of red with a few neon yellow touches. You could make out the cars next to you, many of them driving up beside you now and giving a little waved fist. You could see the super yachts of the billionaires who had shown up to watch. You could finally see it all. 

Once back in the parc ferme, you pulled your car into the space the event crew was ushering too. P2. A part of you wanted to stay in the car, if you stayed, maybe this moment would last forever. You were grasping at any chance to make this feeling stay the way it was. The other part of you? Well, that was the part that took over. Within seconds, you were climbing out of your car and at the weighing station. You were eager to be met with your crew, your team, to celebrate them. They were all already standing out to the side, looking equally as eager to celebrate you. Cameras and reporters closed in on the area between you and your team, eager to get the great shot that was destined to happen in just a few moments. 

You launched yourself helmet-first into the sea of black and teal polos in front of you. Caught by your engineers first. Everyone gathered around, hitting your helmet, cheering, saying congratulations. It reminded you that this is what all of this was about: the people behind the cars, behind the scenes, making sure everything is perfect, making sure that everything ran smoothly when it came to race weekend. They all had families, many of which would be celebrating tonight too. For a minute, the world was just you and the 200 people in front of you, all soaking in something that, just yesterday, felt all too impossible to you. 

The world came back into view with a hand pulling on your race suit, though. You turn around, it was one of the comms interns, looking terrified to even be attempting to grab your attention, scared to ruin the moment for you. You understood the scaredness, but you understood she had a job to uphold as much as you did. You move towards her with a smile, finally taking your helmet off in the process. 

“I am so sorry. I do not want to ruin your moment. It’s just that we just have to-you just have to.” She was stumbling over her words as she walked backwards, signaling you to follow her. 

“Cool down room?” You say, following in pace beside her. You saw her body visibly untense at your demeanor. 

“Yes.” She paused; you could tell she was contemplating in her head to say anything further. “I’m really sorry again for ruining the moment. The media crew was just wondering where you were.”

“Hey.” You say grabbing onto her arm. “Don’t be sorry over things like that. You have a job as much as I do. I answer to you with things like that.” 

“You really are so nice. Definitely the nicest racer I’ve dealt with.” She said with a soft smile. 

“Of course, how long have you been working in F1?” You ask, now continuing to make the walk to the cool-down room, waiting for you. 

“Not long, a little less than a year. I was at McLaren for a little bit before switching to Mercedes. Those two boys, now they are awful.” She remarked, shooting you an exasperated look in the process. 

You wanted to ask what happened. What had been said to her. You could only imagine that it was the reason she was so apologetic to you earlier. But as much as you wanted to ask, you could not let yourself. Random Lando lore was not going to take over your mind or this moment or this day. Instead, you just nodded your head back at her as the cool-down room got closer into your view. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask before we go in. Do you know who finished in the top 5?” You were sure someone had told you at some point after the race, but you would be happy to admit that it must have gone in one ear and straight out to the other side. 

“Oh, um yeah.” She reached her hand deep into her pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Leclerc, you, Norris, Russell, and then Kimi.” She folded the piece of paper back and put it in her pocket. “Good luck in there and out on the podiums,” and like that, she left. Leaving you staring at the door alone. 

You opened the door, first seeing the large screen replaying parts of the race. You were excited to watch, truthfully. You didn’t remember hardly any of it past the first lap, and even then, that was blurry. Within the first lap, Max and Oscar had collided, resulting in a DNF for both of them. That pushed you into 3rd place behind Carlos, who then crashed into a wall. And then there you were, behind the bright red Ferrari in 2nd place. You couldn’t lie, not to yourself at least; you felt lucky. You heard the reporters; they were already hyping your next few races up, talking about your great driving ability. The team was exclaiming how well you drove, how they knew you could do it. Not that you drove terribly, you thought, but had the collisions not taken place? You would not be placing your helmet on the wall of the cool down room right now. 

You took a seat in the stand-alone chair in the corner of the room as the two boys had already taken up residence on the couch. 

“Congratulations!” Charles remarked to you with his signature smile. “First podium for your first race, it's a big deal. You must feel great.” 

“You must feel great, another hometown win!” You said, leaning back further into the chair. 

“Oh, I d-oh! Lando is this how you moved up?” Charles said, slightly hitting Lando while pointing at the screen. It was a replay of Alex running into one of the barriers. 

Lando just nodded. 

The rest of the few minutes that you three were in the cool down room were mostly marked with silence, barring a few silly comments between you and Charles. Lando just stayed silent with his head forward. 

Standing on the podium was everything you had dreamed of and more. Looking out at all of the fans, watching, some crying, many screaming words of encouragement and love at the three of you. One by one, you were medalled and handed trophies and given your champagne bottles. 

In a second, the champagne bottles that you were just handed were popped open and spraying everywhere. 

Well…

At least between you and Charles. You had already made up your mind that he was going to be your target, he won his home race. Even though you had only met Charles briefly the week before, you could tell how much this race meant to him. He deserved the best damn champagne celebration someone could give him. Little did you know, you were his target. He doused you like his life depended on it. It was like a full-on war between you two. Through laughter, you both got closer until finally your bottle gave out. Charles promptly took the chance to just pour the rest of his bottle over your head. Even though you were sure you now resembled closer to that of a wet rat than a human, you appreciated the gesture. Champagne celebrations were such a celebrated and iconic part of F1, and you knew this all meant Charles respected you. 

But Lando? He didn’t even try with either of you. He just walked to the front of the stage and let his champagne go onto the crowd until it ran out, then exited the stage alone. You watched him while Charles said something to you that you couldn’t quite make out over the screams of the fans, while you both made your way to the opposite exit, side by side. 

“So are you?” Charles turned to you as you both walked down the steep stage stairs.

“Oh yeah, besides a little sticky, I’m fine, Charles. Thanks for asking.” You say, giving him an enthused nod back. 

“What?” He laughed while giving you the most confused look you had ever seen a person give. “I am glad you’re okay, but I was asking if you were coming to the party on my yacht tonight. You didn’t say anything on stage after I asked.” 

“Oh!, That’s what you asked up there? I’m sorry I couldn’t really hear.” You laugh. You look at Charles, who stopped on the last step, now frozen in place, giving you, what you could only assume, was his version of ‘puppy dog eyes’. “You know what, sure I’ll come.” 

“Great, I’ll text you the details!” 

What could possibly go wrong?

tag list :)

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[thewosocollective1]

jealousy

The sun was high over Ciutat Esportiva, casting sharp shadows across the pitch where the senior team warmed up. Maya González stood just outside the rondo circle, toes nudging the grass, silently gnawing the inside of her cheek as her eyes followed one pair in particular.

Vicky López and Alexia Putellas.

Again.

They were laughing—like, the kind of laughing that made Maya irrationally annoyed. Vicky kept nudging Alexia in the ribs between touches, and Alexia leaned in to say something that made Vicky squeal and cover her face with her sleeve. The ball rolled past, untouched. They didn’t even care. They were lost in their own little bubble of sparkly midfield chemistry and inside jokes Maya wasn’t invited to.

Not that she wanted to be.

Except she very much did.

She knew it was ridiculous. Vicky and Alexia trained together all the time. They were close. Really close. But lately it felt like Maya had been replaced as the chaos sidekick in Alexia’s life. For the last few days, Alexia had posted workout clips with Vicky, tagged her in memes, called her "mi arquitecta" and didn’t even add Maya to the group chat where they were planning tactical fun-passes for the upcoming match

Now, standing stiffly on the sidelines, Maya watched as Vicky flicked the ball behind her leg and Alexia clapped dramatically.

“¡Vamos, Vicky! That’s insane!”

Maya rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out.

“What’s up with your vibe today?” Mapi León asked, walking up next to her.

“I’m fine,” Maya said.

Mapi paused. “You’re literally squeezing your shin guards like they insulted your mom.”

Maya looked down at her hands. “I’m just focused.”

“Oh,” Mapi grinned, “focused on Alexia and Vicky’s Bestie Hour?”

Maya sighed. “It’s not bestie hour. It’s tactical development. I just think they should include me. As a part of team unity. For democracy.”

Mapi snorted. “Okay, President Jealousy.”

Nearby, the rondo broke up. Vicky and Alexia walked toward the benches together, still smiling, still radiating the sunshine of shared midfield wavelengths. Vicky paused to tie her shoelace, and Alexia ruffled her hair before walking off.

Maya practically chewed the inside of her soul.

Pau Cubarsí—who happened to be visiting the Femení session—to blink in alarm.

He was Maya’s oldest friend—the one who knew the difference between her “I’m tired” and her “I’m drowning.”

And right now? She was sinking.

He caught up with her during cooldown, grabbing her towel and tossing it at her like always. But instead of her usual “thanks, loser,” she just muttered and sat down, back toward everyone.

That was the final straw.

Pau sat beside her, stealing a breath. “Okay. Spill.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying with the posture of a building in ruins.”

She shot him a glare but didn’t answer.

Then vicky passed by them laughing, making maya roll her eyes

“So…” Pau continued carefully, “What did Vicky do? Or say? Or breathe?”

Maya stiffened. That was the bullseye.

Pau blinked slowly. “Es ella, ¿no?”

Maya didn’t look at him. “They’re always together. Laughing. Hugging. Inside jokes. And me? I’m just an extra chair in the room. I see it and I smile like it doesn’t cut. But it does.”

Pau leaned back on his elbows. “You know Alexia loves you.”

“I know,” Maya whispered. “But lately I feel like I’m the kid she outgrew. Like I was the special chapter until Vicky became the sequel.”

Pau reached over and flicked her forehead—not hard, just enough. “You’re not a chapter. You’re the headline. Vicky’s a footnote.”

Maya snorted, half laughing, half crumbling. “It’s not her fault. She’s amazing. And funny. And tactical.”

“And not you,” Pau added gently. “Which is why Alexia will come back. She always does. Your chaos is her favorite season.”

Maya finally turned to face him, eyes glassy. “Do you think she noticed how I avoid her now?”

“Noticed? She asked me twice today if you were mad or just constipated. She’s worried. She loves you.”

Maya laughed—shaky, but real.

Then, from across the field, Alexia looked over. Her gaze met Maya’s for the first time in two days. It held something soft. Concern. A pull. Not guilt—something deeper.

“She’s waiting for you,” Pau whispered.

“Maybe,” Maya replied. “Or maybe I just need to stop sulking and talk like a functioning human.”

Pau stood, offered her a hand, and grinned. “Start functioning after churros?”

Maya took his hand, stood up, and said, “Churros solve 73% of my emotional issues.”

As they walked toward the bench together, Maya stole one last glance at Alexia and whispered to herself—quiet, almost inaudible:

“I just missed being her favorite.”

____

Maya spent the whole week spiraling into a silent storm of feelings—jealousy tangled with guilt, confusion dressed up as stubborn pride. And Alexia? She’d been patient, but distant. Like she knew something was wrong and was waiting for Maya to speak it first.

Alexia entered the room holding two mugs—one chamomile for herself, one chocolate milk for Maya, who always pretended it was juvenile but drank it faster than water.

She handed Maya the mug, then sat beside her. No words. Just warm silence.

Maya exhaled.

“I was mad at you,” she said finally, voice half-buried in the hoodie she was wearing—Alexia’s hoodie, of course.

“I figured,” Alexia replied softly.

“You’ve been spending so much time with Vicky... and Jana... and it’s like I just disappeared.”

Alexia didn’t flinch. “You didn’t disappear. I saw you every day.”

“But not really,” Maya whispered. “Not like before.”

Alexia rested her mug on the table and turned to her.

“You think I love them more?”

Maya shrugged. “Not more. Just... newer. Less complicated.”

Alexia scooted closer, pulled Maya’s knees toward her chest, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Mimi,” she said, using the nickname that only existed between them. “You’re my chaos. My home. My leftover hoodie thief. Vicky is brilliant and Jana is fierce, but you—you are heart. You’re family. You’re the sound of my mornings and the curl in my Fridays.”

Maya’s eyes prickled, but she refused to blink.

“I didn’t want to admit I felt jealous. It felt childish.”

Alexia chuckled. “Jealousy isn’t childish. It’s just love wrapped in insecurity. It happens. You’re not less for feeling it.”

Maya leaned into her. “I just want to be enough.”

“You’re not enough,” Alexia said quietly. “You’re more. Always have been.”

There was silence after that, but not the heavy kind. It was soft. Safe.

Maya picked up her chocolate milk and took a long sip.

“Vicky’s still annoying, though.”

“I’ll allow it,” Alexia smirked.

[number4syndrome]

Secret Code | ln4

🏆summary: winning is always huge for him. but it’s been so much better since you started giving him your own kind of reward.

🏆pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

🏆word count: 800

🏆warnings: 18+, oral (m receiving), mild degradation, praise, dom!Lando, messy oral, light hair pulling

🏆 author’s note: heyy!! 💛 so this idea popped into my head one day and i couldn’t stop thinking about it, so i had to write it out. it’s a little filthier than usual (oops?) but i really hope you like it!! i’m thinking about making this a mini series if the vibe is vibing! thank you for reading it!! tons of kisses ❤️

The crowd was loud.

Everyone was cheering for the British boy.

He won. Again.

It was his year—and everyone knew it.

“And here’s our winner, Lando Norris!” boomed through the speakers. The stands erupted. People screamed, roared, cried. You cheered too, blending into the chaos.

You were one of McLaren’s engineers. You loved your job. Loved the team. But there was maybe… one person you liked just a little more.

He walked onto the podium with that signature grin, waving like the golden boy he was. His eyes sparkled beneath the cap, champagne already glistening on his suit. The two girls next to you screamed like their souls left their bodies when they saw him. You laughed, covering your ears.

You got it.

He was charming.

He lifted his trophy, turning to face the crowd—and then, his eyes found yours.

His smile shifted, just subtly. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, casually, he tapped his thigh with two fingers. Middle and index. Twice.

It was quick. Barely noticeable.

But you noticed.

The secret code.

You bit back a grin and excused yourself from the sea of orange and papaya. The paddock was mostly empty now. Everyone was still out there, celebrating him.

Which made it easy to slip into his changing room unnoticed.

You leaned against the table inside, fingers brushing over the scattered items—race gloves, a half-zipped duffel, an energy bar wrapper. You weren’t nervous. This wasn’t the first time. But something about today felt… hungrier.

The door swung open hard and slammed shut with a kick.

Lando stepped in, breathing heavy, curls wet from sweat and champagne. His eyes found you instantly—and they were blazing.

“Congrats,” you said, voice calm, like you weren’t seconds away from falling to your knees. “You were incredible.”

“Yeah?” he asked, already walking toward you, heat radiating off his body. He caged you in with his arms, palms flat on the table behind you.

“You could show me how proud you are,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You bit your lip, heart pounding. The top of his racing suit had already been peeled down to his waist. The fireproof base layer underneath clung to his chest, damp with sweat, nearly transparent from the champagne.

You reached for the zipper and slowly dragged it down.

Kissing his skin as it was revealed—first his chest, then his stomach, lower… lower…

You dropped to your knees in front of him, mouth leaving open kisses on the line of his hips.

“Come on, baby,” he groaned, gripping a fistful of your hair. “I’ve only got fifteen minutes.”

You smiled up at him sweetly. “Sorry, winnerboy.”

You tugged his boxers down. His cock sprang free—hard and already leaking.

You stared, wide-eyed, tongue pressed to your bottom lip.

“I want you to use me,” you whispered, breath hot against the head of his cock. “I want you to fuck my mouth and celebrate like the champion you are.”

Lando gasped. His whole body twitched.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. Then his hands were on both sides of your face, gripping your jaw, and he shoved inside.

You gagged around him but adjusted quickly, taking him deeper, letting your tongue curl around the underside.

You started to move—slow, eager bobs of your head—when he stopped you with a growl.

“No. Stay still.”

He tightened his grip. Smirked.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth like I own it.”

You moaned, thighs squeezing together, and let him take over.

He pulled you in again, cock driving deep as he thrust his hips with sharp, desperate movements. His hand hit the table behind you, needing something to brace against. You let him use you. Let him chase the high. Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth. Your eyes watered. But it didn’t matter.

You wanted it messy. You wanted him to feel special.

“Fuck—look at you,” he groaned. “Taking it so well, pretty girl. Like your mouth was made for me.”

You whimpered around him, and the vibrations made him twitch. His fingers flexed in your hair as he drove in deeper, faster.

You reached up and grabbed his thighs, nails digging in.

His pace got rougher. More desperate.

“Yes, baby,” he growled. “Just like that.”

Your jaw ached, but you held on. He was close. You could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, in the way his voice broke.

You reached between his legs and massaged his balls gently, and that broke him.

“God,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come, baby. You’re gonna swallow it all, yeah?”

You nodded the best you could, cheeks hollowing around him.

“Fuckfuck fuck—” he gasped, and then he was spilling into your mouth, thick and hot. You swallowed everything, not letting a drop escape.

You pulled off with a soft pop, licking the tip clean before standing.

He was breathless. Sweaty. Glowing.

And when he looked at you, he was smiling.

“Okay, I believe you now,” he said, kissing you hard. “You’re definitely proud of me.”

He fixed his clothes, still panting, then leaned in close. His lips brushed against yours.

“See you at my hotel room later?”

“You know it,” you smirked, pecking his lips.

“Good,” he whispered, stealing one last kiss. “I can return the favor then.”

And with that, he was gone. Stormed back into the chaos, trophy in hand, cheers waiting.

You just stood there, smiling like an idiot.

The best kind of secret.