#CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE FAR DEEPER IN THAN I THOUGHT

[moonshine-dan]

crossfade

oh god this was supposed to be for a collab but anyway

He said he could handle a little smoking. Maybe he lied. Maybe he's also hard. Either way, help him out.

Contains: recreational drug use (weed), mildly dubious consent (due to the drug use), dry humping, coming in pants

Sounds – smoke – voices –-  

It’s overwhelming until it cuts off.  

Tanaka's raucous laughter muffles abruptly as you pull the bathroom door shut behind you. Compared to the makeshift hotbox you’ve been spending the last half an hour in, the cool air of the hallway almost hurts to breathe, suddenly much too sharp and dry. The shock makes your eyes water. You screw them shut but vertigo warps you side-side-sideways until you’re certain the floor must be rising to meet you. It nearly lays you out, but the wall thankfully catches you. Your eyes open blearily after the impact, now less dry but just as bloodshot.  

There was no need to worry that Kei had left you behind. He also hasn’t made it very far. He's walking, or trying to, forearm braced on the wall as he steps very deliberately down the hall. You open your mouth to call for him, but you cough, buckling slightly.  

eugh. It's impossible to try to multitask until your body finishes adjusting. You force your thoughts to collect around what feels like a plank of wood lodged squarely in your forehead.  Focus: Tsukki is going back downstairs. The rest of the party is down there. Walk. You've done this before.  

You wrangle your senses and focus on your boyfriend's back. Vertigo doesn’t strike as hard with a visual anchor, you remember, temples pulling lightly as you try to mentally bully your body into submission. You catch up to him fast. He's barely made it farther than you. He either smoked more, which is unlikely – he was coughing so much he was probably getting most of his secondhand- or he was much more affected than you were.  

“I can handle myself,” he had said. The memory of Kei’s self-assured monologue on the front step bounces around your skull as you watch him finally make it to the stairwell. He looks down and pauses, blinking slowly. He raises a shaky foot, but stops again, frozen in what looks like a sloppy beginner’s yoga pose.  

Several seconds pass.  

He doesn’t move.  

“Tsukki?”  

If he was startled by your silent approach, it doesn’t show. There’s a slight tremor in his raised leg.  

“Are you... okay?”  

He doesn’t respond. Music drifts up from the stairwell. Muffled sounds of conversation leak from the door behind you.  

There’s no tension in his bloodshot eyes when he turns to face you. His mouth is hidden by his outstretched arm, but you still just barely catch his reply:  

“.... I don’t think I can make it down the stairs.”  

He stays frozen by the banister, staring slightly past you.  

You’re starting to think he may have overstated how experienced he actually was.  

The couch in the spare room took Tsukishima’s weight easily, but the force of his graceless collapse sent the purse resting on it to the floor. You follow him down with a little more thought, perched on his splayed thighs and nestling into his neck. The fabric of the jacket underneath both of you is plush under your knees. Kei’s pulse beats sluggishly against your cheek.  

“'s’this better?” you slur into the hollow of his neck.  

He huffs out a breath before replying, voice still thick and hoarse from the smoke.  

“Easier. Than the stairs.”  

His tone is much lighter than usual, and this somehow makes him twice as funny. You giggle belatedly, cheeks tingling with the cicada buzz of nicotine. He’s spread out on the couch like a scarecrow, not even trying to move, just laying where he fell. The steady rise and fall of his chest against yours is the only movement he’s making at all. You nose at the pulse point in his neck and try to burrow deeper, chasing the warmth. He smells bad, but also not? His cologne and smoke and more sweat than usual. Eventually, your previous train of thought works its way out of your mouth.  

“Pfft- too fucked up to move. I thought, I remember you, uh- said you’ve done this before?” Your tongue feels so heavy in your mouth. Thickly, you push it through your lips to swipe at the sweat on his neck.  

Tsukki hums. He lifts up his arm, wrist limp. You track it lazily from the corner of your eye without moving your head. The edges of it seem to blur like long exposure film.  

“I-- it wasn’t this much. Before, I mean.”  

You hum a thoughtful noise back at him as he jerkily twists the arm, hand flapping at the sudden movement. The palinopsia trails behind it like a comet.  It’s so odd, you think hazily, seeing him like this. He’s always so in control. The thought drifts off as fast as it arrived while you watch his hand flop gracelessly. You rock in his lap idly, captivated by the display.  

“I can think. I can move, it’s just... It feels like my body is… brand new.”  

His voice has a rasp to it still from the smoke.  His arm suddenly drops like a stone, pressing you deeper into him. It’s a clumsy attempt at a hug.  

“No–o muscle memory.”  The word drags on longer than he’d normally ever allow it to.

Despite knocking the breath from you momentarily it is comforting. You squirm, vying for a more comfortable position. Tsukki huffs, squeezing his arm tighter.  

“Stop moving.”  

You do not stop moving. The slick fabric of whatever jacket is trapped beneath the two of you is making you lose your position every time you get situated.  

“Slipp’ry,” you explain as articulately as you can.  

He grunts, twisting under you. His thighs press into yours, bucking your legs open wider slowly.  

hh -  

The breath is lost in the slick hiss of his jeans running over the jacket below. You match his movements and press down harder, unthinkingly chasing the feeling. There are too many layers, it’s rough and the zipper of your pants is digging uncomfortably, but you’re too gone to care. You clamp your thighs and buck, trying to press in close enough to-  

ah, he breathes.  

To get that reaction. Fuck. You sluggishly calculate the worth of removing your pants. Buttons and a zipper. Times two. Plus belt, not including getting the waistband down...  

There’s a pressure unrelated to the booze or the weed on your head suddenly, holding you still. Tsukki’s free hand rests there, his foolproof method to keep you in place. It usually is. He's usually not 4 drinks deep and crossfaded on whatever blend of dirt was in that sandwich bag you had rolled up. It's easy enough to slouch out of his grip and capture his arm yourself.  

Tsukishima's eyes are glazed but the look he gives you is sharp.  

"Hey."  

You stop. He blinks. He blinks again.  

"... I'm not taking my pants off."  

"Oh, good," you huff, "We're on the same page."  

The weed may have temporarily burned away most of your finer motor skills, but all you need right now is instinct. Your hands grab his shoulders and fall onto him, sending the both of you slipping sideways. He chuffs, sliding against the coat and your thighs to get more friction. The jacket below you protests every movement with a zwip .  

"This okay?" You mumble into unscented cotton. Your abs squeeze and your hips drop, dragging you closer to his crotch where you can feel his erection straining the front of his pants. From this angle you can't quite see his face, half-buried in his Henley. But you can hear his breath is beginning to go ragged.  

"Yeah," he croaks. His breath hitches as he grinds the heat of his erection into your thigh.  

"Yeah, fuck, I’m okay, it’s good..."  

Both of you fall back on baser impulses and rut, palms catching the fabrics of each other's shirts, thighs squeezing around each other's legs. Vertigo makes your head swim just as much as pleasure does. The two of you pant, pressing against each other uncoordinated in the drunken haze. The slick fabric of the coat under you makes keeping any position hard. Every movement is a struggle against your heavy limbs and the impossibly slippery coat, but getting up to move it seems like much more trouble than it’s worth. zwip. zwip.  It seems to mock you when you move. It’s easy enough to ignore as your mind tunnels in on coming.

In the constant struggle to stay on the couch you’ve somehow wound up firmly beneath him. Your fists grab his shirt, rucking it up and letting your other hand roam the hot skin underneath. On your back, dizzy now with no anchor, he thrusts against you shallowly, breath catching in his throat.

'fuck, fuck -" Tsukki whines, too gone to be embarrassed about how it sounds. You could hardly make it out through the staccato  zwip-zip of the jacket below you. He's close? Probably. So are you? maybe? Your legs think so, clamping down hard against his sturdy thigh, dragging deliciously into the friction.  

It urges him to chase your heat, thrusting harder into your thigh. His hips stutter, pressing and dragging his thigh against you deliciously. It breaks the rhythm of your cresting orgasm, sharp and sudden and peaking the pleasure in a way that makes you gasp.  

"uhh- fuck," you choke, climaxing unevenly, room spinning in time with your heavy breaths. Kei isn’t far behind, lips trembling as he loosely mouths your shoulder. He shudders against you, pulsing with every shot of cum into his jeans.  

Ugh, you think. He's gonna hate that tomorrow. You giggle, thrusting against his solid thigh, chasing aftershocks instinctively. His movements are slowing, the time between thrusts increasing as his orgasm fades. The jacket hisses when he does.

You press your hands into the warm skin of his back, feeling his chest move as he breathes loudly above you. He hums, making your palms vibrate as he nests clumsily halfway above-halfway beside you on the cushion.

Neither of you move much for a moment. The room is strangely silent until the ac kicks in and begins to cool your flushed skin. You groan, trying to squirm further under Tsukishima to get away from the bite of it. He breathes an annoyed hnn- when you accidentally press against his softening cock through his pants. Through his wet pants.  Oh yeah.  

“Oooh, Kei,” you lilt, woozy. He grunts.

“You made a messsss,” you continue, singsong, pressing gently into the wet stain with your leg.  

He chuffs half a laugh, burrowing his nose into your shoulder and tucking you in against his free arm. “‘sgusting,” you hear him whisper back.

Neither of your eyes are open. The pair of you stay there, quiet and unmoving, until your phone buzzes with a text from Noya.

whered u go, you read on the overly bright screen.

You move to untangle yourself from your boyfriend and mentally prepare yourself to finally, finally, make it down the stairs.

---

The crowd downstairs swallows the pair of you readily.

The party is less rowdy for the final few hours. The remaining time is mostly spent sobering up and talking, queuing up music requests and stupid youtube videos, calling rides and digging sports drinks out of the back of Tanaka’s fridge.  As the night truly winds down, individuals break away, heading upstairs for their jackets or belongings before leaving. When Suga comes back downstairs to leave with Daichi, the all too familiar zip-zwip sound follows him.  

Oh, shit. You catch Tsukki’s eye. He nods at your grim expression and it’s instantly, silently, decided.

He can never know what you did on top of his new winter jacket.  

[fictional-men-enthusiast]

TophAbe shippers, it is ON SIGHT, I am NOT SORRY-

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

[kumezyzo]

it's heartbreaking that suguru geto doesn't accept your love. you didn't come from a family of sorcerers, so in his eyes, you got lucky with a powerful technique. you got lucky that you didn't get swallowed up by the unfamiliar world of jujutsu.

it's embarrassing, really. you pining over someone who doesn't really respect you. he remembers when he found out that you didn't come from a family of sorcerers. he thought it was pathetic that you hid it from them.

but you couldn't care because his smile was so pretty, and his voice was so kind even when his words were laced with pure hatred. you ignored his judgemental glances and the way he shrugged you off. if it were up to him, he would have never chosen to bring you into his inner circle. but you were one of the strongest. and satoru loved having you around.

perhaps satoru just simply loved you. although his love was never simple, was it? he looked at you like you were the only beauty in the world, like you were far more perfect than perfection itself. that alone was almost nauseating. he didn't care that you didn't come from an important clan because you were so strong and you held your own.

even when fushiguro toji brought you to the brink of death, satoru thought you were strong. suguru, on the other hand, had not. even if he didn't say it to your face, he found other ways to let you know he blamed you for riko's death. you were supposed to be as strong as him and satoru, and somehow, you ended up on deaths door, and fushiguro toji barely hurt. god, did he hate you.

he hated how you smiled when they came to visit you in your hospital bed with bandages wrapped around your body. he hated the way tears filled your eyes when you saw apologized for not doing your job. he loathed the way satoru and shoko hugged you, telling you they were just glad you were alive. could they not see that you didn't need their pity?

what he hated even more was how you were the only one who seemed to care when he started losing weight and the bags under his eyes grew deeper, darker. he hated your soft and kind voice, asking, "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"....huh?" he turned to you with eyes void of any sort of emotion. but that was soon replaced with disdain. he looked away, going back to stare at the short grass of the sparring field.

you hesitantly scooted closer to him. "you haven't been yourself.... i know satoru said you're losing weight, but -"

"it's none of your business," he spat out your name in a way that made you want to hide. his voice no longer sounded like a soothing breeze. there was something different in his eyes, something so painfilled that you yourself felt your soul crumble. "shouldn't you be training with shoko or flirting with satoru?"

"satoru? what... suguru, i dont- look, doesn't matter," you turned to face him better with a sigh. "i just want to make sure you're okay. you haven't been okay, and i want to help you -"

"well i dont need you fucking help," he said with finality, walking away from you, his cursed energy oozing off of him darkly. it was like his energy was attacking you without him knowing. you could feel his darkness- no- his pain in every fibre and crevice of his being.

that was the last time you saw suguru geto for the next eight years. he went on a mission and never came back. you wished that it had surprised you when you found out that he had killed a village of innocent people. but it wasn't. in the time you had after your last conversation, you saw how much hatred was behind his eyes. it was your first heartbreak. the heartbreak of your first love.

idk what this is, really. its kinda based on a fic i wanna write, but this will have to do for now. 😁 -nony

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[adventuringblind]

Keep me Close

Past Jules Bianchi x reader, platonic Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: angst

Request: yepyep finally got me some angst things to write

Summary: Charles's new girlfriend can't understand why he's so attached to the reader

Warnings: talks of death, name calling, a table gets flipped

Notes: I definitely didn't cry writing this at one point. Also, no hate to Alex!! I know hardly anything about her, but I know her and Charles are currently together, and it fits the Timeline, so please bear with me.

Masterlist

Your love for Jules was something you find in fairy tales. It was beautiful, and both of you felt connected on a level deeper than anything imaginable.

It started when you were both merely kids. You were six, and he was eight. The two of you had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. Dressed in nice clothing, he'd marched right up to you and claimed to be a knight looking for a princess.

You were inseparable after that. It was like you'd found your soulmate.

When you turned eighteen, Jules had immediately proposed. And when you countered by asking if you were both too young, he said, 'Why waste time when I know I'll love you forever?'"

You'd gotten close with Leclerc family. Specifically with Charles since Jules was named godfather. He spent a great deal of time with you and Jules.

Then 2014. Everyone was sure Jules was going to get a seat with Ferrari. It would be a crime if he didn't.

You remember kissing him, good luck. The last feeling of his lips on your before getting in the car.

You remember telling him to be safe with the rain; that you love him dearly. He replied with his signature wink and an 'I love you more and I always am.'

Then everything stopped. The world seemed to no longer spin. Time refused to move forward as you willed it to go back.

It couldn't be real. There was no way it had happened. You still thought that as you sat at his bedside faithfully for months. There wasn't a world you wanted to live in if it didn't have Jules.

Charles was similarly devastated. He'd lost someone dear to him. The boy spent all his free time sitting with you in the hospital. Even bringing around food that Pascale had made to keep you alive. Something you didn't want to be at that moment.

The bond you'd formed with Charles during this time is hard to explain. There is nothing romantic. He's family despite the age gap not being that large.

He was, and is still, family. You'd promised to still take care of him despite the loss of Jules, and he promised to do the same in his stead.

The start of the 2024bseason brings on an interesting turn of events. Charles had split with his girlfriend before the new year and is now with his new girlfriend Alex.

You like her. She's very sweet as far as you've been told. But there is something there that makes you worry. You just blame the fact that you want the best for Charles.

The first time you met her was at a family dinner. Charles brought Alex with him to introduce her to everyone.

You were actually the first person he introduced her to. You felt honored, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint. But you kept it to yourself and made friendly conversation.

The next time you saw her was when she dropped by the Leclerc family home unannounced. The position she caught you in wasn't a bad one, but it probably didn't look good to her.

Charles had a rough race in Monaco, as per usual, and was laying with his head in your lap while you ran fingers through his hair. It's the same thing Jules had done when Charles was a child after a bad Karting race.

Alex definitely didn't look pleased with you. But she managed to put kn a smile and say hello.

It was awkward. Especially after Charles and her went into another room because you could hear them talking in hushed whispers.

Your fingers find the chain with your wedding ring on it. Your lips press against the cold metal as you hold the ring to your mouth. "I hope I'm doing this right, Jules. It's hard without you here."

The last time you saw Alex was at a birthday party. Your birthday party. Something you don't like having after Jules because he was the one who always made the day special.

Charles is a stubborn man though and decided it was necessary. Partly because this is his way of remembering that you are alive and with them, but it also gives him and excuse to drink and dance.

It wasn't anything massive. Or at least - not a massive as it could have been. There were a good number of people crowded into your Monaco home. The food is good, and the music is better. It definitely felt like a party Jules would have dragged you to in your youth.

It's not long until Charles appears at the door with Alex in tow. He comes to you, and you embrace him as usual. The smile on his face makes everything worth it. despite having to deal with a party for a few hours.

Pierre also finds you and starts up conversation. The three of you fail to notice the fourth becoming increasingly agitated.

A loud crashing sound pulls all of their attention. Alex flipped over the table in her agitation and is now sending chills down your spine with the look on her face.

"Why are you so determined to be some kind of homewrecker! Why can't you just stop being a creep to Charles and let us live in peace!" She screams. It hits your mind like a shadow. The world fades away, and your thoughts are filled with the doubts you have daily.

Tears fill your eyes, and your body goes rigid. "I'm Charles' godmother. Y/N Bianchi. I am no homewrecker." You choke.

Charles and Pierre take a protective step in front of you. "Get out!" Charles' voice drips with venom. Alex looks stunned. She doesn't move even as Charles shouts at her. "Nobody gets to speak like that to my family! Get out!"

Then she runs. Avoiding the gazes of disapproval.

Charles spins around and places his hands on your shoulders. His eyes scanning your face to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry that happened. You're amazing. Always have been. And anyone who says differently is a fucking asshole."

Even through the tears, she smiles. Jules couldn't have left her in better hands.

[lixiesfreckless]

Into It | b. c.

➸ synopsis: the california sunset looks pretty damn good when you're on the hood of Chan's car.

➸ starring: bang chan x female reader

➸ word count: 3k

➸ general content: best friend!chan, car sex, drunk sex, chan is lowkey obsessed with you, mutual pining, dirty talk

➸ warnings: lots of swearing, sexual content, alcohol consumption, mentions of california(LMAO east coast on top)

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: another oldie but goodie! also I don't even bias chan but I literally went insane writing this so what does that mean-

♫ into it- chase atlantic

Far away.

You feel like your mind is so far away.

The engine roars in your ears as you and Chan zip around the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, convertible top down to let the wind whip through the vehicle. 

Your hand dangles outside the car door, lazily twirling a half empty bottle of beer in your fingertips as you fully sink into the car seat. Your thoughts are fuzzy, his music is loud, and the breeze is enough to keep you from getting too hot. 

This is as close as you can get to bliss.

Palm trees lining the road, orange and magenta in the sky, hell— if heaven didn’t look like this, did you even want to go?

The car slows down enough for Chan to make a right turn, angling the two of you to a desert close to where they host raves and concerts every summer. By the time the current song stops playing, Chan is pulling the convertible off the road, driving over hardened clay and rocks until he’s about 50 yards away from the asphalt.

“Pass me one of those,” he says, putting the car in park and slumping into the seat. You reach down to the six pack of beer near your feet and pass one to him, bringing your own bottle up to your lips as he takes it.

The guy sticks the cap between his teeth, cracking it open with a sharp twist of his arm, and flicks the cap into the cup holder.

“That’s one way to crack open a cold one,” you chuckle, taking another swig.

“Too bad I’m not with the boys…” he sighs, narrowly dodging a swat from your hand as he laughs.

“Hush, I’m better than the boys.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the troubles of the week dissolve under the tangy taste of the alcohol and the bass from the speakers.

You can’t remember exactly when you started spending your Friday nights like this, driving to random places in the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Usually you’d prefer to spend your nights indoors, but with him, it was never overwhelming. He was your weekly dose of adventure, and you became addicted easily.

But how could you not when he was so…Chan?

He always knew what songs to play, what you felt like talking about, what kind of view would cheer you up— he became someone that knew you better than your best friend, even.

And there was something so disarming about his vintage band tees, beat up converse, blond curls and dimples— especially his dimples. They were a weapon and he used them.

And they reappear right as you notice you’re staring at him. Serves you right for zoning out in his general direction.

“Something on your mind?” He chuckles, and you pop the passenger door open, shaking your head.

“Nope. Just need to stretch.”

You walk around to the front of the car, and the shell dips slightly once you perch on the hood.

This beer is defective, you decide. Alcohol is supposed to blur your thoughts, not sharpen them.

And yet all you can think about is the man moving to lean against the front of the car, standing just a foot away from you.

Your mind pretends not to notice the way Chan’s gaze lingers on your lips, almost glazing over every time you take a swig from the bottle in your hand. Your body however, burns. Reacts like water on hot oil. It feels like every cell is dancing in the remnants of the sunset when he looks at you. 

It might just be the alcohol though.

You lean back and lie on the hood of the car, using your hands as a makeshift pillow behind your head as you watch the sky turn an even deeper shade of pink. Chan takes one glance at you and takes a long sip of beer as he quickly looks away, pushing the sight of your shirt riding up your torso far back into his mind. The…things he could do there-

“Shit, how many of those have we gone through,” you mumble, lazily shifting your eyes up to the sky.

“Uh, four?” Chan glances back at you, mentally cursing at the way your face matches the sky above, dusted with pink. He doesn’t know it’s from you staring at his arm veins. “We have water in the back if you want some-”

“No, no I’m good.” Your voice sounds like honey to him; maybe he should pass the bottle back to you, just so you’ll stay quiet. “Just feeling more than a little buzzed.” 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, and the huskiness in his voice practically pokes you in the side. “Now would be the best time to do something crazy then.”

“Something crazy?” You laugh out loud, then sit up slightly on the hood, leaning back on your elbows. “There’s nothing but desert for miles. What are we supposed to do-”

Your sentence stops dead in its tracks as your eyes meet with Chan’s, the heat rushing to your gut all at once as the wind blows his blond curls into his eyes. He doesn’t even hesitate this time; his eyes wander lower and lower on your face until they land on your bottom lip, trapped between your teeth. 

“God, why do you always do that…” he whispers, shifting his gaze back to the road.

…What? 

The wind whistles in your ears as you feel them growing hotter, unsure what to make of his sudden statement.

“Do…do what?” He looks back at you with tortured eyes, as if you’re the only water in the California desert.

“Bite your lip like that; it makes me think-” he stops and drains the rest of the bottle in his hand, then leaves it on the hood and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m gonna turn the music up.”

Your eyes follow him as he trails along the side of the car, and you feel a certain window of opportunity beginning to close. Summoning most of your courage, you jump off the hood and walk up behind Chan, waiting for him to finish messing with the stereo before tapping him on the back.

“Yeah?” He turns around and barely has any time to think before you’re pressing on his shoulders, pulling him down slightly as you crash your lips onto his. He immediately catches your waist, letting out a surprised muffle that dissolves into a sigh as he pulls you against him.

You break apart after a moment, lips still tingly and buzzing with excitement, but you wonder if you’ve made the right decision as you look up at Chan, who still has his eyes closed.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, finally looking down at you with a flushed face.

“Not drunk enough.” You twist the shoulder seams of his shirt between your fingers in consideration. “I’m sober enough to know that look. And if you don’t do something about it, then I-”

“You want me to do something about it?” He pulls your hips tight against his, and now that you’re leaning on him, you can feel the bass from the car reverberating through both of you. That combined with the buzz of the alcohol and his hands on your bare midriff nearly sends you over the edge, but you keep your composure.

And by that you mean you pounce on him— you love his voice, but you’re tired of talking about something you could be doing.

If you both were a little less tipsy, the kisses would probably be less frantic. But neither of you seem to care, hands grabbing at each other desperately as you search for better ways to pull each other closer.

“You have no idea,” he pants between kisses, “you have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” You shudder into his lips, raking through his blond locks and tugging at the ends as Chan’s grip tightens on your hips. He takes a sharp inhale before picking you up, waiting for you to latch your legs around his torso before he slides his arms under your legs. As he walks around the car, you both never separate; you’re actually surprised when you feel the cool metal of the hood come into contact with the backs of your thighs.

He nestles himself between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs and tracing the distressed hem of your denim skirt as the bass of the song picks up. You’re lucky you’re on the hood and not the trunk; the subwoofers vibrating against you would have been too much for sure. 

He pulls away from your lips, dipping his head to catch his breath as he pants into the crook of your neck. To him, this is insane. He has you on the hood of his car. He has you on the hood of his car.

How is a man supposed to think straight in this situation? 

Meanwhile, his hot breath on your neck is driving you to the brink of insanity. Just a raise of your shoulder and he’d be kissing it. Shoot, he could make you crazy with his fingers just an inch higher too.

“Chan,” you whisper, not realizing how close your breathy voice was to his ear, and the last of his resolve practically evaporates off of him.

“Y/n…” his nose follows the curve of your neck as he makes his way up to your face, “tell me if I need to stop, I just…”

He hooks his hands around your knees and pulls, effectively pinning your hips together in a casual display of strength, and you gasp before he seizes your bottom lip between his, sucking and biting until a soft moan slips from your lips.

“Fuck, make that sound again,” he groans, hands sliding back up your thighs to the hem of your shirt. You relent, no longer keeping your sighs and sounds of pleasure to yourself as his hands slide under your crop top, around to your back.

He makes quick work of your bra, releasing the tension around your ribcage before sliding his thumbs along the underside of your breasts. Just thinking about all of the things he could do to you has both of you buzzing with anticipation, panting against each other’s mouths.

His thumb just barely grazes your nipple and you swear you see the world begin to tilt.

You don’t know what it is; normally a gesture that small wouldn’t elicit such a reaction out of you, but the alcohol in your veins and the bass under your thighs seem to bring every motion of his straight to your core. And usually you’d be embarrassed at how loud you are, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he continues just like that, both thumbs barely putting any pressure on the peaks under your shirt.

Your head lolls back slightly, and Chan wastes no time in licking a thin stripe up the column of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.

“Ideally, I’d want to take my time with you, but right now…” his voice is thick with lust as he flicks both of your nipples, and you jolt forward. “I don’t think you’d want me to.”

“Chan, please,” you gasp out, wanting to press your thighs together, “get on with it already.”

He obliges you, hands sliding down to your skirt and then back up under it, looking for the edge of your panties. Once he has them, he pulls them down and over your Nike blazers, tossing them into the convertible onto the passenger seat.

He then reaches behind you, pushing two empty bottles off the car as he presses you flat against the hood. The sound of the bottles breaking against the rocky terrain is barely registered by you though, you’re more focused on Chan’s free hand snaking back up your skirt.

Curses slip out of his mouth once his thumb brushes across your clit; he’s more than shocked to feel just how soaked you are, but you shake your head vigorously, catching his attention.

“Skip it,” you say breathlessly, looking directly into his eyes. He understands instantly, coffee colored eyes practically turning coal black seeing your desperation.

The sky seems to swirl different shades of purple and pink as the wind feathers over your body, and just past the contrails in the sky, you can see the stars beginning to poke their faces into the rosy backdrop.

There is a very real possibility that you are dreaming all of this.

But the sound of his zipper being pulled down snaps your senses into focus, and the possibility of Chan fucking you under a sky like this seems more urgent.

The next minute flies by, and before you know it Chan is lining himself up at your entrance, checking that the condom is on properly before lifting your skirt to your hips.

His eyes flicker to yours momentarily, and you nod before relaxing fully, letting your head rest against the hood as he holds onto your hips tightly.

And then you instantly tense up once he starts pushing into you.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to slide in without really touching you, but the hiss he draws between his teeth tells you he’s not really focusing on that.

You’re focusing on how you didn’t catch a glimpse of him before he put it in, and now your entire lower abdomen is tingling in excitement over just how much of him there is. Silly how you were trying to sober up for this moment, only for you to feel high all over again with him fully inside you.

“I- shit, okay wow,” he hisses, dragging himself out and back in slowly. “You’re so warm, god-”

You can’t even respond, you’re so occupied by the feeling of his ridges along your walls that your fingers are already looking for something to grab onto.

Somehow in the haze of it all, you still want to urge him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his waist and watch as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed mid-thrust.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, picking up the pace and holding your hips tighter as you whine, feeling him finally start to brush one of your sensitive spots.

Chan cannot process the scene playing out in front of him. You’re draped over the hood of his car, taking what he’s giving you so easily, face flushed and hair falling over your face from the wind. Your shirt is halfway up your torso, but your skirt is up six inches too high, high enough to see where he's sheathing himself inside of you. He couldn’t make this up if he tried.

The pressure building inside of you jumps to the next level once his hand slides up your shirt again, gently rubbing circles over your nipple as opposed to the faster thrusts down below. Your back arches into his hand as you gasp, squeezing your thighs around him tighter as you do so.

“Chan,” you whine, scratching your nails against the car, and a few more curses tumble out of his mouth as he stares down at you. 

“You’re so good y/n,” he pants, snapping his hips against you now, “better than I- ah, I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” You’re cut off by another moan; it’s a miracle how you can even speak.

Chan doesn’t reply; instead, he hooks his hands under your knees and drops them on his shoulders, then scoops his hands back under your hips and pulls them to his with a quick snap.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he says with a wicked grin, hitting you at just the right angle to pull a sharp gasp out from your lips.

“Oh my god, there-” you moan breathlessly, pressing your hands flat onto the hood of the car as he pounds into you relentlessly.

The sky is spinning. Your heart is pounding. You wish you could focus on something, anything other than the spongy part of you that Chan is hitting to the beat of the song under you, just so you could last a little bit longer. 

But the sight of him with your legs around his neck, eyes closed with strands of gold wisping across his face, the look of pure ecstasy painted across his cheeks, ensures that you have close to three seconds before the knot in your stomach unravels.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you say as you feel yourself coming undone, back arching into your release which only makes Chan pound deeper, heightening the intensity tenfold.

He cries out once you clamp down around him, spitting out random strings of curses until he’s emptying his restraint into the condom, slowing down his thrusts as he finally opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you.

He looks nothing short of ethereal with the now purple backdrop of the sky, framing his blond locks with lilac clouds as he slowly pulls out of you, doing his best not to overstimulate you. You almost tell him not to; being that full was nice, something you’d probably never admit unless you were actually drunk.

“Wow,” you breathe out, watching him lower your legs down to the hood. “That was…”

“Crazy, I know,” he laughs, still trying to calm his breathing as he looks at you. “But you were amazing, holy shit-”

“…better than the boys?” You tease, smirking up at him. 

He gives you a knowing look, picking up on the funny way you worded the question. But instead of getting flustered, he leans over the hood, caging you against it with his arms.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I think I’d have to try this a couple of times before I can give you a definite answer.”

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[moonlight1110]

Fanboy

Ghost x p⋆rnstar!reader ; roomates!au

Tags: afab!reader, piv, smut, vaginal sex, mentions of masturbation, porn, and sex work, mirror kink kinda, far from canon simon, i write with badjhur's voice in my ear, roomates to...?, not so secret life, simon has a little crush

Notes: I don't know how onlyfans works 🧍

Simon was a man who liked to keep to himself, didn't really see a point in socializing with the people around him, he could make do with himself after all, there was no point in dragging other people into the mix. He liked his privacy and that was clear even for the people around him.

However, the one place he felt like he was forced to socialize was the place he hoped would've given him the privacy he needed, his apartment. Or more accurately, your shared apartment.

Simon was your roommate, a quiet and reserved man. He seldom held conversation, only ever indulging you in your little questions which ranged from how his day was going to what his plans were for the day. He didn't mind this small talk, even asking you some questions of his own, you were roommates after all, he didn't want to feel like he was living with a complete stranger.

He thought he didn't need to know more than you had already told him, you didn't pry into his personal life anyway so why would he do the same? And plus, he couldn't even be bothered to know more, ask deeper questions and look past what was on the surface... But when he came home earlier than he usually did and found the apartment to be silent, it made him wonder.

He looked around for a bit after setting his shoes down, finding it way too quiet for his liking. Before he knew it, he was walking to your room, hand ready to knock on your door to ask if you were in there just to check on you since he knew you were home way earlier than he was.

"Hey, are you in th-" He blinked for a moment, staring at your door like a deer in headlights when he heard it. His hand slowly pulled away from your door as he strained his ears, he needed to know if he was just hearing things.

"Fuck..." The sounds of your soft moans came from the other side of the door, filling his ears like a melody he'd never heard before. Simon felt like a pervert listening to you, he didn't mean to intrude but he was stuck there like his feet were planted in place right outside your door, unable to walk away after hearing your moans.

Before he could gather up enough energy for his brain to function again, his dick was already twitching in his pants, rock solid only from your voice. It made him groan, frowning as he looked down at the bulge that was growing as if it would make him any less turned on. He couldn't just jack off right outside your door even if he wanted to keep on listening to you anyway, it was too much.

As he stood outside your door, his thoughts mixing and scrambling together, he noticed your soft voice had stopped and he furrowed his brow at that, a little disappointed but he didn't move, desperate to calm his heart down so he could hear you from the other side of the door.

"Thank you... for watching..." your voice was a bit muffled through the door but your words were as clear as day. Simon's ears perked up as the gears in his head finally started working..

"So this is what you do for work, huh?" He chuckled to himself, narrowing his eyes at your door like he could somehow open it but he knew you were shuffling around in there to get everything organized so he decided it was time to walk away.

After that night, Simon saw you in a different light, a light he definitely didn't have before.

He started talking to you more, or so you noticed. On one side, it made you happy that Simon was "opening up" to you, but it was also a new feeling, he was a man of few words after all but your small chats slowly turned into deeper conversations, some even leading late into the night with how much you enjoyed each others company.

Meanwhile, Simon couldn't deny that there was something brewing, his curiosity about you definitely spiked but more than the countless nights he spent fucking his fist to the thought of those soft moans he heard some nights ago, he actually found himself genuinely enjoying your presence, especially when he found your profile on his new favorite app, onlyfans.

He only followed you, never paid for anyone else. he watched everything you put out, from the first to the latest video you posted, and he thanked what God was out there that you performed only by yourself.

Watching you became his nightly routine, he looked forward to being able to watch you before he slept, imagining what it would be like to touch you, help you feel even better than those toys you used. He began to memorize which toys you had and how you used them from how frequently he watched your content.

It was safe to say he had become enamored with you in every possible way, feeling a connection with you even if he didn't show it to you in person, he felt like he knew you.

One night, he came home in a particularly pissy mood, it was obvious work didn't go as well and he didn't talk to you when he entered through the door, only giving you a glance as he stomped to his room and closed the door with a small thud.

There were nights when he came home like this before, but after getting to know him the past few months you really started to get closer with him, you thought it'd be fine if you tried to talk to him this time around.

It was late into the evening when you walked to his door with a mug of his favorite tea in your hand. You hoped that he would be welcoming and while in the past you never really cared enough to do something like this, your new formed bond with him had you concerned about how he was doing.

"Simon?" You knocked on his door quietly, hoping he would let you in. Heavy footsteps approached the door and the slow creak made up for the silence earlier. Simon looked at you from the small crack in his door with a blank expression.

"D'ya need something?" He asked, it made you wonder a little how he sounded like he was out of breath, and of course you couldn't miss how he was clearly lacking a top. It was strange but you looked past it.

"No, I just came by to see how you were doing, I made you some tea" you gave him a small smile, extending the mug out. It made him scoff, his eyes glancing at the mug then back to you. "Thanks love, needed it" he chuckled and took the mug from your hands and giving it a sip.

"Is there anything else you need? I mean... You did look pretty upset earlier"

Your comment made him laugh, keeping his eyes on you as he opened his door wider. You couldn't miss the smirk dancing on his lips and you felt like his eyes were on every inch of you, towering over you like a beast.

"You wanna help me?" He crossed his arms, leaning against his doorframe. His eyes seemed to scan over you so intently it made you feel like you were shrinking under his gaze.

"I mean yeah... I know I never really did things like this in the past... But y'know" you shrugged, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. He hummed with your response, seeing it fair in a way.

"Cute" He scoffed, pushing himself off from his doorframe as he retreated back into his room, leaving you standing outside. "Y'coming in or what?" He turned back, looking at you with clear amusement, and although you couldn't tell from where you were standing, you could practically hear the smirk that was still plastered on his lips.

You stepped into his room without a word and you couldn't help but look around, it was the first time you had ever been in his room of course. He set the mug down on his nightstand before turning back to look at you, his eyes scanning you from top to bottom.

"Stand over here" He beckoned you over to him to stand in front of the mirror he had and silently, you walked over. He hummed, placing his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you.

"You wanna help me feel better right?"

"That's the plan" You chuckled awkwardly, looking into his eyes from the mirror and it made him scoff. "Right..." His voice seemed to get lower, and so did his hands. "Work has just been... Shit, to say the least" He chuckled, his hands wandering down to your hips.

"And here you are, worried about me" He continued, nuzzling his into the side of your neck, all the while you had to watch this happen.

"Simon, what are you doing..." Your voice came out weaker than you had intended but could you really help it? Simon was pulling you back against him with your back now flat against his warm chest, planting kisses on your neck and you couldn't do anything but watch from the mirror.

"You know exactly what I'm doing, babe" He laughed against your skin, humming appreciatively as you wrapped his hands around your waist. "Do you even have any idea... The things you do to me, hm?" He mumbled, pulling away from your neck and focusing on you now, looking right into your eyes.

"What do you even mean..." You furrowed your brows and it made him scoff.

"You don't know how many nights I've spent... thinking of you" His voice was low now, turning more into a whisper while he began to slide his hands under your shirt to feel your skin.

"I know all about your little... videos, y'know"

You felt your world stop at that, everything seemed to go by slowly as a mix of confusion and embarrassment crept into your skin. "You..." Your felt your face getting hotter at the realization that Simon, your roommate, definitely knew of this little secret you tried to hide.

"I know, and let's just say that I've become... Somewhat of your biggest fan" He chuckled, returning to your neck as he caressed soft circles into your skin. "You watch my videos?" You asked and although the answer was obvious, the thought that your roommate, of all people, was watching you made you feel a little embarrassed.

"I do" He chuckled, pulling your closer and you couldn't help but gasp softly, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants rub against your ass. "Y'feel it don't you? How fuckin' bad I need you" He scoffed, rolling his hips into you with a low groan.

"Simon..." You whimpered, the mix of his hands and his dick feeling you made it impossible to stand still, and in front of the mirror, it was something that looked like it came out of a terribly scripted porn video.

He growled lowly, seemingly enjoying the way you said his name.

"Can I show you just how much I adore you, love? Prove to you that I'm your biggest fan?" He whispered, glancing into your eyes as he kissed your neck. Your words couldn't come out no matter how hard you wanted to reply, so you nodded.

Simon hummed, turning you around in his arms as he connected your lips. It was slow at first and he gave you time to adjust until you found your rhythm against his lips and it was like fireworks had gone off in Simon's mind.

He walked you to his bed, keeping the kiss intact as he pushed you on your back, your head against the pillows as he made space for himself between your legs. The kiss had turned hotter now, faster and more passionate as he pulled your shirt above your head.

"You have no fuckin' idea how long I've wanted you..." He growled, trailing his kisses to your down to the valley of your breasts as he reached behind you, fumbling with the hooks of your bra in a frenzy. Once he got that off, his lips immediately found your nipple, taking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue on it while he pinched the other.

"You're so beautiful..." He groaned against your skin as he let his free hand wander down to your shorts, slipping past the waistband and he wasted no time in pressing you through your panties. "Slow down..." You whispered breathlessly, overwhelmed with the sensations you were feeling simultaneously.

"How can I slow down when I've finally got you all to myself" He asked with a mean chuckle as he pulled away from your chest and trailed his kisses down your stomach. He made quick work of taking your shorts and underwear off and it was clear he didn't want to tease you, feeling like he'd already done that earlier when he was holding himself back from fucking you in front of his mirror.

"You look even more gorgeous in person, babe" He groaned, moving lower until his breath was on your pussy, and at this point you were starting to feel hotter.

"Pretty fuckin' pussy..." He muttered and before you knew it, your back was arching off the bed as his lips wrapped around your clit, his fingers teasing at your entrance as he closed his eyes, humming against your cunt as he sucked your clit between his lips.

He hooked his arms around your thighs, spreading them wide as he ran his tongue between your sensitive folds, muttering praises about good you tasted and how long he's waited for this moment. Your fingers tugged on his hair in a desperate attempt to make him slow down but it only seemed to encourage him further.

"Sorry baby, s'too much for you?" He chuckled sarcastically, looking at you through his lashes as he stuck his tongue flat between your folds, lapping up all he could with an appreciative hum against your pussy.

He sat up, licking his lips as he looked down at you, stroking your thighs lovingly like he didn't just deprive you of an orgasm. You glared at him as your chest heaved, silently cursing him.

"Awe, don't look at me like that, love" He laughed, his words were teasing and soft as he looked down at you, his thoughts running wild at the sight of your in front of him, he just couldn't believe it to be honest, no matter how real it felt.

"I need you" The lust in his voice was unmistakable now, looking down at you like you were his prey and he, the predator.

Simon backed up a bit, allowing himself to take his sweats off. "Fuck... Do y'see what you do to me, baby? Hm?" he chuckled, running one hand through his hair as the other stroked his cock, heavy and twitching in his fist.

"Simon... That's not gonna fit..." Your heart started to race when you saw how big his cock was in his hand, spreading his precum all over the length. It was intimidating.

"Don't gotta take all of it, love..." He chuckled, moving closer and between your legs again. He pressed the tip against your clit as he started to grind against your pussy, covering his dick in your slick with a satisfied hum as he caressed soft circles into your waist. "You're in control, you tell me when to stop" He leaned forward to catch your lips in his in a soft kiss.

His words reassured you, and although the thought of him inside you was intimidating, you couldn't deny that you also needed it, needed him.

"Okay... But let's take it slow..." You whispered, taking his face in your hands as you cupped his cheeks, feeling your chest swell in a mix of emotions. "Of course, love..." He nodded, smiling back softly and leaning back in to kiss you again and letting it linger for just a moment longer before he leaned back up, lining his tip with your entrance.

You held your breath, shutting your eyes tightly as you anticipated the stretch, but before it came, you felt Simon's hand gently take yours, intertwining your fingers together. This made you flutter your eyes open and when you did, Simon was looking down at you as his expression softened.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, love..." He whispered, squeezing your hand in his much larger one before he slowly moved his hips, letting the tip stretch you out. It helped that Simon was holding your hand because you had something to dig your nails into aside from the sheets.

"Fuck- Simon!" You gasped, throwing your head against the pillows as you felt him stretch you open. "You're doin' so well, just a little more okay?" He groaned, finding himself closing his eyes as well. He pushed in a little more, inch by inch until he was completely seated inside you with a small thrust.

The stretch made you feel hot all over, your walls fluttered around him as you tried to catch your breath after holding it in for so long without even realizing it. Simon leaned down, setting his arms on either side of your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"You're doin' so well... So well..." He whispered into your skin while his hands gently caressed your sides. You felt his heart beating against yours and it seemed to calm you down until your heart started to beat with his rhythm. He gave you time to adjust to his size, softly calming you down as he kissed your skin.

"M-move... Please" You whispered after some time had passed and the sting slowly disappeared. Simon nodded, keeping his head buried in your neck as he slowly retracted his hips, you felt his cock drag out of you and it made you whimper.

"Fuckin' hell, baby..." He moaned as he slowly thrusted back into you. You moaned softly, feeling so full with his cock slowly moving in and out of your now. It felt so different to your toys, it felt so much better.

The more he moved, the better it felt and your moans only encouraged him more. Your soft moans filled the room, absolutely engulfing Simon, your voice was like a drug and your voice was the reason he started to get so attached to you in the first place.

"You're so goddamn pretty..." He gave your shoulder a kiss before he leaned back up, groaning as he looked down at how his cock disappeared into you, your folds spread apart to accommodate for him. "And this pussy... Fuck" He groaned rolling your clit under his thumb now.

He started to get more confident now, moving his hips faster as he filled you over and over again. You were a mess under him and it only encouraged him more to keep on fucking you open on his dick.

"You have no idea..." He groaned, bottoming out inside you as he held your ankles on either side of him, "How much I've fucked my fist to the thought of you on my dick..." He spat, his grip on your ankles tightening slightly. You could tell he was losing himself, feeling how good you were taking him.

"Let me show you how big of a fan I actually am, baby..."

[thewulf]

Don't Cry || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - In that, you mentioned Dally and Two-Bit walking the reader home and I had a request idea I wanted to send you. Could you write a Dallas Winston x reader where reader is a little younger than him but he’s really protective of her??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh these Outsiders requests are so much fun! I'm writing them so quick. Fresh inspo is so much fun. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy! @fluentmoviequoter

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: knifes, knife cutting, blood, crying, yelling

You’d known Dallas Winston for a long time. Not your whole life but it felt like it. He was always a constant in your life. Your relationship was always a weird one with the Winston boy. You could joke all day long in the confines of the house but as soon as you left it he wanted nothing to do with you. Like he was embarrassed of you. Little did you know he was just trying to keep your squeaky-clean reputation intact. For you might’ve hung, lived with and been around greaser’s but you weren’t one really. You were a greaser by association. Dally always said you were far too kind, too pure for this lifestyle so he tried his hardest to keep you as far away as he could.

It wasn’t easy when you gave him those pleading looks outside the Curtis residence to just acknowledge your presence. He tried his best not to cave. Not even when all he wanted to do was laugh about something stupid Ponyboy or Sodapop did. But you couldn’t be seen with him out and about so casually. Then the Soc’s would start to target you. He didn’t know what he was quite capable of at the thought of somebody hurting you. As he got to know you and the Curtis after moving to Tulsa he swore he’d protect you day and night. He wouldn’t let a pretty little hair on your pretty little head get touched.

He'd decided early on when he met you, he was ten and you were eight, that he was going to get you tough. He was going to be hard on you, not too hard though. If you were going to grow up a greaser then you needed to know how to defend yourself. He spent the next eight years teaching you, training you, protecting you. He didn’t realize when it happened but slowly he stopped looking at you like a younger sister. Those protective feelings went far deeper than familial love. No, he actually loved you. He’d fallen in love with the one person he really shouldn’t have fallen for. Darry would skin him alive if he knew. Soda would beat him into oblivion. Pony would tell him how disappointed he was in some sort of poetic way that went over his head. He knew he just had to keep these growing feelings quiet. For your sake. You didn’t need to deal with him or his endless amounts of baggage. Even if he could see how attached you had grown to him too.

To say your relationship had grown confusing and chaotic over the years had been an understatement. Even Darry had picked up on some of the awkward tension that seemed to pop up out of nowhere when the two of you were left alone. Soda caught onto the longing gazes Dally would throw your way. He even caught you a few times doing the same to him. Pony wasn’t blind either. He was your very best friend and confidant. Whenever the conversation of Dallas Winston came up you shied away. Scared of letting something loose on accident. All the brothers knew there was something there they just didn’t know if and what would happen.

After your parents had died he’d been there for all of you but especially you. You’d taken it the hardest. Your mom was your favorite person and she just disappeared one day. You were lost and had to rely on teenage boys to guide you through it all. Your parents had nobody they could fall back on to take care of you. Thank goodness for Dally. He’d quite literally pulled you out of the depression you’d slipped into by just being there. Helping you. Asking for nothing in return. That’s when you fell in love. He’d shown you his true colors under the layers and layers to Dallas Winston. Under it all he was there for you and promised to never leave. And you knew he'd keep that promise, you just knew it.

Slowly the months ticked by and you’d gotten back to normal. Going out with friends and boys. Dallas watching you like a hawk whenever you went on dates with guys he knew were nothing compared to you. But he decided not to say a word and let you live your life. It was worth seeing the smile come back to life after seeing you so sad for too long. Seeing you happy was worth it all.

So, when Ponyboy asked you to accompany him on a Paul Newman special at the movie theatre you couldn’t refuse him. He was so excited about seeing the film you could hardly imagine saying no to him. You’d always enjoyed the movies too so it was hardly a tough sell on his part.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a Saturday. Maybe if Dally was there to accompany you. But you couldn’t admit that. If you did then everything would change. Who knows what Darry would do to Dally. How Soda would treat him. This could get weird, and you hated weird. You’d rather keep it normal even if it meant having to keep him as a friend.

“Which one did you like better?” Pony asked once the two of you had left the theatre. He placed his hands in his pockets giving you a quizzical look. The two of you waked slowly along the cracking road that needed some serious repairs. Your head spun towards the street seeing a car full of Soc’s roll up chipping at Ponyboy about something, ignoring you completely. Even though you were over a year older than him Pony stood much taller than you. He pushed you behind his back as he yelled back at the boys. You tugged at the back of his shirt letting him know it was time to go. It wasn’t smart to get chippy with five of them in the car. They outnumbered the two of you and you were rather useless in a fight.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you across the street. After a moment of walking along the residential road you answered him, “The Hustler was far better Gidget Goes to Rome. Paul Newman really is a mastermind.”

He smirked bobbing his head in agreement, “Thought you’d say that.”

You feigned offense at that statement, “Am I that predictable Ponyboy Curtis?” You raised your eyebrows as you walked along the dirt path. The theatre wasn’t far from home thankfully. Maybe just over a mile. A twenty-minute walk or so.

“No. I just know you I guess dear sister.”

You smiled at your younger brother. Even since your parents had passed you’d taken on the nurturing role for him and even Soda more recently. Darry had none of it though. You’d grown close to your two brothers since their death’s. Darry kept his distance trying to do his best to raise you instead of letting you help him. He was trying to take on the role of your father without even asking if that’s the three of you wanted. But you didn’t dare question him.

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, “That you do Ponyboy. You know me better than anybody else.” You spotted a vehicle fast approaching from behind the two of you as you went in for a hug.

Your eyes widened seeing the same Mustang before barreling towards you, “We gotta run.” You grabbed his arm and started sprinting down the road. Pony was faster, so much faster than you, so he tried to drag you along only ending up tripping you in the process. They caught up in their Mustang an instant. He stood in front of you as you scrambled to your feet.

You gulped as the five boys got out of the car walking towards you, “Get out of here.” Pony tried to sound tough, but you heard the waver in your younger brothers voice.

One of them flipped a blade open. Your eyes shot wide open as you grabbed his shirt trying to tug him away. But they were faster as one of them tugged on your arm pulling you to the ground in front of Pony. You let out a scream trying to draw the greasers attention a few houses down. Hopefully they were hanging out outside like they usually were. Drinking beers or some shit.

“Darry! Soda!” You yelled as Pony as was taken down to the ground with you. He tried to let out a few calls for help but was muffled by something being shoved in his mouth.

“Shut her up.” One of them said, Randy maybe? You’d recognized him as the one with the redhead from school.

And before you knew it that same blade was placed right to your throat, “Pretty little things got a mouth on her huh? Maybe this’ll quite you down.” The overly-cologne scented Soc smirked as he pressed the blade across your throat drawing yet another yell right from you. He cut you. He really cut you.

Before you knew it they were running away. Your brothers and friends had heard you and Ponyboy yelling and came running right to your defense. It was only a little over a minute you were down on the ground, but that minute made you tremble. You’d never been so dominated like that in your life.

You looked down shocked at everything that had just happened. You’d felt the blood trickling down your neck more so than throbbing of the slice the Soc had given to you. Darry pulled you up from the ground, so you were sitting at eye level with his crouched form. After a moment of him holding the handkerchief up to your neck he finally spoke, “They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?” His voice was low. He was pissed. You knew you were in trouble later on once everything had settled.

You shook your head afraid to look at your older brother, “No, I’m fine.” You whispered afraid of what he might say next.

Ponyboy made his way over to you, crouching down next to Darry, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

You stopped him, “It’s fine Pony. I’m okay really. Just a cut.” A small smile wavered over your face trying your best to reassure him.

Darry scoffed hating how you were playing this off so casually. Like his kid sister hadn’t gotten a knife pulled on her. Like you hadn’t gotten cut by that very same knife. It was every nightmare he had coming to light right in his backyard. At least the two of you had gotten that far before being attacked.

“Hey, Y/N.” Soda spoke after running up. His face dropped seeing the blood running down your neck, “Did they pull a blade on you?” He put his hands on your shoulders so he could get a better look.

Your face flushed with embarrassment seeing all of your brothers eyes right on you. Turning away you couldn’t take Soda’s intense gaze, “Yeah.”

He pulled your head back towards him, “Hey kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. Come on.” Grabbing your hand, he hoisted you to your feet with ease. Darry gave you one last quick look before he grabbed Pony by the arm. You gulped knowing Darry was going to have it in for him. You needed to talk to your older brother about being so hard on Pony. It was just an accident after all. It wasn’t your fault the Paul Newman films kept the two of you in deep conversation not seeing the Mustang until it was too late.

Dally only interrupted you and Soda once Darry had pulled Pony ahead. He needed to make sure that his favorite Curtis sibling was okay. A minor wave of panic rang through his body seeing you pushed to the ground next to Pony with those boys had their filthy Soc hands on you. Rage washed over him as he kicked the side of the fancy car when they fled away from the scene.

Dallas’s eyes scanned over you with concern only stopping when he saw the trail of blood rolling down your neck, “What the hell is that? Did they cut you?” He took a step closer, grabbing at your face with a delicate touch. Almost as if he was afraid he’d hurt you further if he grasped on too tightly.

“Jesus, Curtis. What’d I tell you about defending yourself?” He gave your cheek a soft squeeze before dropping his hand. He spotted the already bloodied Handkerchief turned rag in Soda’s hand and held out his own to ask for it from your brother.

You looked down, “It was five on two Dally. What were we supposed to do?” You asked back earnestly wondering what the hell you were actually supposed to do. Run? Pony was faster and you’d only slow him down so that wasn’t an option. You’d already tripped trying to keep up with him. Try and fight? Well, you got a blade pulled on you so that wasn’t great either.

He bit his mouth trying his best not to snap at you. His adrenaline was high, and he was scared at the thought of you actually getting hurt, “I don’t know Y/N. Fight back? You were just lying there!”

You stopped walking abruptly, brushing Soda away knowing he didn’t need to hear the conversation about to go on between you and the hot-headed man beside you, “Can you go make sure Pony’s okay?” You asked him.

Soda gave you a curious look before finally handing Dally the handkerchief, “You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You gave him a quick push before turning back to Dally, “What is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer so your brothers couldn’t hear ahead of you, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just trying to keep you alive Curtis. I should be asking you the same! Why are you out walking alone with Pony this late on a Saturday anyway? You two know better. Those no good for nothing assholes only want to fight.” He grumbled before dabbing at the semi-dried blood on your chin.

You let out a huff of irritation. He was being so caring yet so damn frustrating, “What? I can’t go anywhere without a damn chaperone now? I’m confined to my brothers house? Is that how it’s going to be Dally? Pony isn’t enough now?” Your voice was snappy as you pushed and pushed and pushed him. He was already feeling on edge from the whole thing and your attitude was about to be his breaking point. There was nobody on this planet that could get under his skin like you could, nobody except for you. You’d found a way to weasel your way into his ice-cold heart and sink a burning ember into it. For Dallas Winston would do anything for you. But man, did you frustrate him to no end.

“Jesus, you know that’s not what I mean! Stop putting words into my mouth Curtis.” He put his hands up in the air in frustration, raising his voice just a tad. Darry turned back observing, making sure you were fine. He knew Dally would never hurt you. He could see the way the Winston boy looked at his younger sister. He wasn’t stupid. Dally had always been soft on you. Except he wasn’t. He pushed you harder than he pushed anyone. He wanted you to know how to defend yourself. With your hands, a knife, a pipe whatever. He was going to teach and push because he needed you alive. You were the only thing grounding him to this planet at the moment.

Your eyes narrowed on his, your voice raising as well, “Then what do you mean Dallas? Go ahead. Say exactly what you mean. I can take it.” You’d only used his full name when you felt like being patronizing.

He looked like he was contemplating everything before he turned back to you, “You need to be more careful!” He snapped. He didn’t raise a hand on you but instead yelled right at you stopping you in your tracks. Dally had never yelled at you before. Scolded sure. Disappointed yes. Angry, of course. But yelled? Never.

Your brothers must’ve seen the look in your eyes as they all stepped in. Darry pulled Dally away telling him to cool off. Soda grabbed your arm pulling you back towards the house. And Pony happily chatted away trying to take your mind off it.

“Dally’s just an asshole, you know that!” Pony’s final ditch effort to get you to smile came up miserably short.

You gave him a solemn nod, “Yeah, I know. Never to me though.” The sadness in your voice must’ve been evident because that had him quiet down the remainder of the short walk home. You brushed them all away telling them that you were ‘fine’ and going to take a nap.

They left you alone for a few hours but when you didn’t come out for dinner all three brothers grew worried. Soda knocked on your door lightly, “Hey kid. Supper’s getting cold. Darry made one of your favorites, spaghetti, and meatballs.”

It was sweet how much they cared on you when you were down, but damn was it suffocating sometimes. It was times like these when you wish you could run to your mom and ask her advice on it all. Boys were… boys and they often didn’t have a clue what ran through your head.

“I’m not hungry Soda. Maybe later, I’m working on homework.” You heard him sigh before walking away. You’d thought you would have gotten rid of them but another, much louder knock broke you away from the essay you were committed to finishing.

“Pony said you both skipped lunch to go to the movies. Come on down and get some dinner kiddo.” Darry’s much deeper voice spoke through the door. He tried twisting the knob but stopped when it wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to knock your door in he knew better. You weren’t like his brothers. No, you were so entirely different. He couldn’t treat you the same or you’d most likely find yourself a foster home instead.

“I had popcorn. I’m still full from that.” It wasn’t a lie. You weren’t hungry. You were uneasy and nervous. And wanted to finish the damn easy that you’d been staring at for the better part of three hours now.

“Alight kid, I’ll save you a plate.” He grumbled before beginning to walk away.

“Thanks Dar.” You hummed ignoring the lump forming at the back of your throat. You were so lucky to have your brothers who cared for you so deeply. You just wished they’d give you the space you needed.

And you thought they did before, yet another knock came to your bedroom door not thirty minutes later. With a huff you set the pencil down, “Go away Pony. I’m not in the mood.”

A laugh so distinct came from the other side of the door. That was certainly not Ponyboy, “Try again, sweetheart.” Dallas. Dallas freaking Winston. What had your brothers done?

Your palms began to sweat as your heartrate sped up rapidly, “What are you doing here?” It came out colder than you meant but Dally just found it amusing. He knew you couldn’t hurt a fly much less hurt him words. Albeit you might be the only person that could actually hurt him with words if you wanted to. Dally was soft for one person. You.

“I’m here for you.”

You sighed, “Go away. I’m not hungry. I don’t know who went and got you or called you or whatever. I’m not in the mood Dally.”

He put his head on your door knowing your mood was stemming from the argument earlier. He had snapped at you, and he felt bad. Especially after Darry of all people came knocking at his door pleading with him to come back to his place and talk to you.

His voice was low but he knew you could hear it, “You and I both know I’m not going away little Curtis. So, you can open that door and we can talk about it, or I can sit here all night waiting. Those are the options.” You heard his stubborn ass slide down the door. You knew they could most likely pick the lock or break down the door. But Darry wasn’t stupid. He knew it’d cause more harm than any good. You needed your safe space away from all the madness of being a greaser. A place you could lock yourself away from.

“Please,” Your voice cracked as fresh tears flowed down without you even noticing, “Just go away.”

You heard him click his tongue, “No can-do sweetheart. I gave you the options. Your turn to pick.” His voice was smug. Was he relishing in making you squirm? Neither was really an option. Both forced your hand. But then again this was Dallas. He got what he wanted.

You tried to turn back to your essay all you could think about was Dallas freaking Winston sitting on the opposite side of your door. You knew his stubborn ass wouldn’t leave either and that drove you nuts. You’d never be able to finish the essay or go to bed knowing he was sitting there just waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh you got up, walked towards the door, opened it without so much as a second thought and found him sitting right next to your door, “Go away.” You tried in your meanest voice, but it came out as a whisper.

He shook his head as he stood to his feet, “That’s not going to happen sweetheart.” He leaned against your doorframe pushing you back inside your room.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone for one night? One stupid night. That’s all I’m asking for!” You’d hardly ever raised your voice, but you were tired. Exhausted. Scared of the Soc’s that pulled a freaking knife out on you. Frightened because when you needed a helping hand all you got was a scolding voice.

“We’re worried about you is all. You got attacked. A knife pulled out on you…” He lowered his voice hoping it’d help settle down the rage he saw in your eyes. It was weird. Different. He was used to such a sweetness about you. He’d never seen you angry. Upset sure. But this was something entirely different.

Your eyes bugged, “You think I don’t know that? That maybe I just need some alone time away from all of this?” You didn’t hate being a greaser, no. That would never be the case. You loved your life with your brothers. You were just so damn tired of always being alert these days. Being a girl put you in a weird position with the greasers. The Soc’s never laid hands on you until today. It was startling. You’d always heard how dangerous the life was but today laid it out in front of you how truly dangerous it could be if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put his hands up in defense, “You need to calm down, Y/N.” His eyes shifted from one of a confident gaze to one that filled with concern

You wanted to slap him across his pretty little face, “You saying that is definitely not going to calm me down!” You were beyond frustrated now. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted him to leave you alone.

His eyes downturned as he saw your frigid stance. You were, for the first time he had recalled in his life, angry. Like angry, angry. Like you looked like you wanted to rip his head off angry, “Hey, I’m sorry. But I need you to relax a little. Sit down for me?” You were struck by his apology. Dallas Winston saying he’s sorry? You thought you’d so sooner be struck by lightning than hear those words come out of his mouth. The rage in your body calmed at that.

With an icy glare you sat down on your bed. You weren’t sure why you were listening to him. You were angry with him. He yelled at you when you needed sympathy. He’d scared you when you were already terrified. You thought the world of him, but that world came crashing down oh so quickly. You knew of the Dally he had hidden so well from you. Pony, Soda, and Darry would tell you stories all the time of how menacing he was. How he was so fearless in the face of it all. How could you not love on the man?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked after shutting your bedroom door behind him. He knew your brothers were listening in, but it at least gave the illusion of a private conversation. Not that it mattered. They’d get the damn conversation out of one of the two of you eventually anyway. There was no privacy with the greasers.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, clearly not fine.

He shook his head giving you that damn chuckle that meant he knew you were lying, “I’m going with you’re not. You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asked once more. Stubborn.

“I want you to go away. That’s what I want.” The word weren’t as harsh this time. More like a soft rumble.

He sighed, “Come on Curtis. It’s just me. I know you and I know you’re not okay or fine or whatever word you wanna use. You can talk to me. It’ll be okay.” He grabbed for your hand that was nervously clutching the edge of your mattress giving it a comforting squeeze when his fingers locked with yours.

You felt the words coming on before you could stop them and soon you were rambling, “I’m overwhelmed Dally! I’m scared. I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable walking down the damned street anymore! And none of you will leave me alone to think about it!” You fired back exasperated. The building rage inside your eyes quieted down at the admission. You were terrified of what happened next. Everybody was always on edge these days. Life went from easy to hard in what felt like a night after your parents had left.

He opened his arms up, “Alright, come on. Come here pretty girl.” It didn’t take him much effort to pull you right into his embrace. In another instance you’d probably have fought him, but you were terrified and exhausted and his warm embrace was everything you needed. He pulled you closer before resting his head on yours, “It’s okay to be scared.” He whispered knowing that your nosey as hell brothers were likely sticking their ears to your door.

You closed your eyes letting the scent of his cologne mixed with the long day wash over you. So much more refreshing than the scent that washed over you earlier. Dally was always your comfort. No matter how harsh a day or words that were spat you knew you could count on him. No matter how mean you were to him either, “You yelled at me.” You felt another wave of tears come on. God, you felt so pathetic in his arms crying about being yelled at. Some greaser you were.

“I know.” He sighed giving you another reassuring squeeze, “You scared me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just let out my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been there to protect you.” He sounded a bit angrier not that he was getting it off his chest.

You pulled your head back gaping at his with a confused expression, “Is Dallas Winston apologizing?”

He gave you that soft smirk that you’d come to love, “If you tell someone I did, I’ll deny it.” He brushed the stray tears away with his thumb, “I don’t like it when you cry.”

You laid your head back down on his chest, “Don’t make me cry then.” Quipping back, you knew that wasn’t entirely fair. He wasn’t the sole reason you were in tears. But he was the reason you were crying then.

He leaned down whispering in your ear, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. You know I’m a fuck up. But I’ll try. I’ll always try for you.” There was no chance your brothers could hear him for you hardly could. Or maybe that was the rough pounding in your ears. He wanted it to stay between the two of you. He knew Darry would flip if he tried to make a pass at his sister. So, he’d keep his distance from you, for now. But he couldn’t promise to restrain himself if you made advances on him, he’d fold in an instant if you did.

“I believe you.” You fisted his shirt in your hands, grasping onto him. This certainly wasn’t what friends did. But it felt right to cling onto him. To mold into his touch and his embrace. Dally felt so incredibly meant for you the thought of not being with him hurt you.

He held onto you for just a bit longer before pulling back, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got me. Your brothers. All those friends. You’ll be just fine.”

You gave him a quick nod brushing the fogginess out of your eyes, “Thank you Dally.”

“Always. Now come on, let’s go eat before Darry force feeds you.” He stood, unwrapping himself from you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Darry would, wouldn’t he?” You smiled taking his hand in yours happily.

He gave you that look, “Let’s not find out.” Before pulling you out the door. To nobody’s surprise were all three Curtis brothers not even subtly eavesdropping in on the conversation right outside your door.

“All of you. Unbelievable.” Your laugh let them know they’d called just the right person to brighten your spirits. Darry knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that he was your person. The thought terrified him. The older you got the closer the two of you grew. But time and time again Dallas had shown Darry just how much he loved you too. His actions and his words showed just how much he actually did care for you.

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[tainsan]

destiny.

➾ synopsis: waking up in the past is a disorienting experience. what’s even worse is it seems like you’re the only person in the world who is experiencing it. so when all of a sudden, a distressed man shows up claiming he has also woken up in the past. you realise he may be the key to your way home, yet he also just so happens to be a member from your favourite kpop group, ateez.

➾ word count: 25k

➾ pairing: idol! San x non idol!reader, soulmate au (kinda)

➾ warnings: slight violence, mentions of death, fluff

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sitting regally in front of a beautifully adorned vanity, you are surrounded by your maids who are diligently preparing you for the grand banquet in the royal palace. You take a deep breath, the scent of incense and flowers filling the room, as your maids flit about you, attending to your every need. The dress you are to wear is a magnificent creation of delicate silk, adorned with intricate embroidery and adorned with gemstones that sparkle in the soft glow of the chamber's lanterns. The fabric is a rich shade of deep crimson, the colour reserved for the royal family.

You have always been fascinated by the process of dressing for such occasions. Your maids are skilled artisans, their fingers deft and nimble as they fasten your dress, adjust your ornate hairpins, and adorn you with exquisite jewellery. Your attire is a reflection of your station, a symbol of your lineage, and the embodiment of your role as a princess in the esteemed Joseon Dynasty. Yet, no matter how much you tell yourself, this is your life, you are just not able to get used to it.

Whilst your maids work, your thoughts turn inward. You can't help but feel a sense of unease, a mysterious foreboding that gnaws at your heart. Your life was so normal until you awoke to privilege and luxury, the weight of your responsibilities is never far from your mind. In this moment, with your heart fluttering like a caged bird, you need a respite from the constant attention and the constraints of the role you know you must get used to.

"Could I have a moment alone, please?" you ask your maids softly, your voice tinged with a sense of vulnerability.

The maids exchange glances but nod, their expressions filled with concern for their beloved princess. They step away, leaving you to collect your thoughts. You walk to the large window that overlooks the palace gardens, the night air whispering through the delicate curtains. The view is magnificent, with the moon casting a soft glow over the sprawling landscape. The sky, however, is what captures your attention.

Your eyes fixate on the heavens, your heart racing as you observe the unusual display above. The clouds seem to be moving in strange, swirling patterns, unlike anything you have ever witnessed. It's as if the heavens themselves are painting a picture of a world in turmoil. You shiver, feeling a strange connection to the celestial dance above, as if the heavens are trying to convey a message to you.

The events of the day have been shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Whispers of distant threats have reached your ears, and your ‘father’, the king, has been preoccupied with matters of the state. You've overheard hushed conversations in the palace corridors, and your intuition tells you that today holds more significance than a mere banquet.

As you continue to gaze out the window, your hand instinctively reaches for the silver pendant hanging from your neck, it was the only thing you had kept from your life before this one. It's a reminder of your true home, where you belong. Yet it also reminds you of how far away you are from it.

Your heart aches for a moment of clarity, a deeper understanding of the strange, foreboding feeling that clings to you. You know you can't linger too long; the banquet will soon begin, and your presence is required. But for now, you allow yourself this stolen moment, watching the enigmatic sky and silently praying for a way home and peace in the tumultuous times that lie ahead.

In the midst of your contemplation, you hear a soft, discreet knocking on the ornate wooden door that leads into your chambers.

You turn your head in the direction of the sound, and you call out, "Enter," in a voice just loud enough for the person outside to hear, careful not to disturb the serenity that surrounds you in this grand castle.

The door swings open, and in walks Lady Maid Jiyun, the only person who knows the true depths of your situation. Over the time you've been in this unfamiliar world, you've grown surprisingly close to her, even though she insists she's known you since you were a child. She closes the door behind her with a gentle, muted click, before turning towards you, her eyes cast downward in a gesture of respect.

“Jiyun,”

"Are you ready, your highness?" she questions, her tone respectful but impersonal, echoing the title that has begun to grate on your nerves. In your heart, you know you're not a princess, but a simple girl who owns a café.

"Jiyun, please, you need not talk to me like that when we are alone," you reply with a sigh of frustration. The misuse of your title feels like a constant reminder of the life you've been thrust into, and you long for your old existence.

"It is out of habit, I apologise," Jiyun says, her voice filled with sympathy and understanding. She moves closer, her demeanour less formal in the privacy of your chamber.

"I am not your princess, you know that, Jiyun," you say, your frustration palpable. The weight of the title and the expectations it carries weighs on you heavily.

Jiyun rushes to your side, her voice hushed as she hurriedly whispers, "Do not utter such words so loudly. You know what they will do if they suspect you."

You nod in reluctant agreement. "Yes, I know," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper. "They will call me an alien, throw me into a dungeon and kill me. I know."

The concept of aliens and monsters beyond human understanding has become increasingly popular in this era, with rumours circulating about strange, otherworldly creatures inhabiting the Earth. In a sense, you can relate to those suspicions, for you feel like an alien yourself. The bizarre circumstances that brought you here remain a bewildering enigma. You woke up one fateful day in this body, trapped in a world that feels like an intricate dream.

At first, you believed it to be a nightmare, a surreal experience that couldn't possibly be real. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, you came to the unsettling realisation that this was your life now.

To your amazement, you found yourself in the body of a Joseon Dynasty princess, bearing an exact resemblance to your own appearance in your real life. It was a miraculous twist of fate that allowed you to maintain a semblance of who you once were, but it did little to ease the overwhelming sensation of displacement and the constant yearning for your old life.

You've pondered on it countless times, searching for answers in the depths of your thoughts. Perhaps, you've considered, this is your past life, some inexplicable twist of fate that has sent you hurtling through time. Maybe you were cursed, or perhaps it's a mysterious test that you've yet to fully comprehend. The truth eludes you, shrouded in the uncertainty of your bewildering existence.

You wish more than anything to return to your simple life, the one where you spent your days managing your café, where anonymity was your closest friend, and the only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right blend of coffee for your customers. How you long to wake up in your own bed, in your familiar house, where everything was just as it should be. You yearn for the simple pleasures of life, the mundane joys that once filled your days. The desire to relax in front of your TV and lose yourself in captivating TV shows, or to watch endless fancams of your favourite singers, immersing yourself in their artistry. You long to indulge in the music you love, to turn up the volume on your headphones, letting the melodies envelop your senses and transport you to a world of pure enjoyment.

Those ordinary comforts, the sounds of the city, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the warmth of your own home, are like a distant memory that you yearn to embrace once more.

“Which is why you must keep it quiet,” Jiyun says, her voice full of remorse for you. Jiyun is someone you are forever grateful for.

“Have you found anything to help me get back?”

“Unfortunately, I have yet to find anything of use. The library has many books, yet most of them are just theories.”

Despite the unsettling rumours and tales of aliens and monsters that have gripped the world, Jiyun has remained steadfast in her commitment to keeping you safe. She's been your guiding light, helping you navigate the complexities of this unfamiliar existence. She knows the challenges you face, and the gravity of her responsibility in ensuring your well-being to protect the princess.

Jiyun understands the enormity of your predicament, and she's tirelessly devoted herself to helping you find a way to make sense of this uncanny journey. Her support and guidance are the threads that keep you anchored in this tumultuous world, offering a glimmer of hope amid the chaos that surrounds you.

"Only ever theories. Perhaps we can discover something beyond what's written in books?" you suggest, searching for an elusive solution to your predicament.

"As much as I would love to inquire with others, your highness, you know my limitations in this matter," Jiyun responds, her voice tinged with regret.

You sigh, frustration gnawing at you. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling desperate."

Jiyun moves closer, her gaze unwavering, and she bows to you with a warm smile. "We will find a way, your highness. We won't give up."

You offer a grateful smile to Jiyun, her unwavering support, a source of solace in your bewildering existence. She continues, her tone shifting to one of urgency, "Though we must get going. The banquet is to begin prominently."

With a nod, you gather your strength, determined to face the palace banquet and the demands of your role as the princess, even as you yearn for answers and a way back to the life you once knew.

Making your way to the grand banquet hall, you can't help but be awestruck by the opulence and grandeur that surrounds you. The palace's opulent architecture and intricate detailing are a testament to the wealth and power of the king and queen, your parents. Elaborate tapestries hang from the walls, depicting scenes from the dynasty's rich history, and the flickering torch light casts a warm, inviting glow over the intricate designs.

The double doors to the banquet hall swing open, and you step inside. The sight that meets your eyes is nothing short of breathtaking. The hall is a symphony of colours and textures, all bathed in a soft, golden light. Golden silk drapes adorn the walls, cascading like waterfalls of molten sunshine. The ceiling is an intricate masterpiece, a mosaic of gilded patterns and frescoes that tell the stories of the dynasty's heroes and legends.

The long, ornate banquet tables stretch out before you, covered in sumptuous silks and adorned with glistening china and golden cutlery. Each place setting is a work of art, meticulously crafted and sparkling under the ambient light. The scent of exotic, mouthwatering dishes wafts through the air, making your stomach rumble with anticipation.

The room is alive with a hum of activity as nobles and dignitaries from far and wide mingle, their lavish robes and headdresses sparkling with jewels and precious gems. The clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation create a melodious background to the visual spectacle before you.

In the centre of the hall, a grand dais stands proudly, and it's upon this elevated platform that the throne awaits you, its back adorned with a shimmering tapestry depicting the dynasty's emblem. The throne itself is an ornate masterpiece, a creation of carved mahogany and gilded detailing, with plush velvet cushions in rich crimson and gold.

Stepping forward, you can't help but feel like an intruder in this world. The weight of the princess's responsibilities is almost suffocating, but you have no choice but to carry them with grace and dignity. Jiyun, your loyal confidante, is at your side, her presence a reassuring anchor in this sea of uncertainty.

The banquet hall seems to stretch on endlessly, filled with revelry and celebration. The nobles and dignitaries bow respectfully as you pass, their eyes filled with awe and respect. It's a strange dichotomy, for you are not truly the princess they believe you to be, but you play the part with grace and poise.

The table settings are a masterpiece of artistry and craftsmanship. The fine china glimmers in the soft light, reflecting the golden theme of the banquet. Each plate holds a gastronomic masterpiece, a culinary journey of exotic flavours and textures, from delicate dumplings to succulent roasted meats.

The banquet hall is filled with laughter, music, and the intoxicating scent of spices and incense. The musicians play traditional melodies on intricate instruments, filling the air with their enchanting tunes. Dancers in resplendent costumes move gracefully, their motions mirroring the flowing silk of their dresses.

Taking your place on the grand throne, next to your parents, you can't help but be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all. The banquet hall is a breathtaking display of wealth and culture, a testament to the dynasty's grandeur and history. You are a stranger in this world, but for now, you must play your part as the princess, all the while longing for answers and a way back to the life you left behind.

"Why the delay, daughter?" your father inquires in a hushed tone, his curiosity evident as he awaits your arrival.

"I apologise, Father," you respond, bowing your head as a sign of respect. "It took longer than expected to prepare."

"Have no worry, my dear," your mother chimes in from beside you, her voice filled with warmth.

Over the two months that you've spent in this strange world, you've come to realise how caring and kind the queen is. Her compassion is matched by your father's unyielding strength and determination. Together, they make a formidable team that rules their kingdom with wisdom and grace. Their subjects hold them in high regard, and the feeling is reciprocated.

The bond between your parents is evident to all who know them. Their love is the bedrock of the dynasty, and it resonates in every aspect of their rule. The kingdom flourishes under their leadership, and it's clear that they not only love their people but are deeply loved by them in return.

The grand banquet commences with a flourish of activity. The banquet hall is now abuzz with life as nobles and dignitaries from all corners of the kingdom gather, their resplendent attire creating a kaleidoscope of colours that mirrors the opulence of the event. The rich, melodic sounds of traditional instruments and the rhythmic beat of drums fill the air, setting the stage for a night of revelry.

The banquet tables are a sight to behold, adorned with golden candelabras that cast a warm, flickering light over the ornate settings. The aroma of exquisite dishes wafts through the hall, a symphony of flavours and spices that tempt the senses. Guests fill their plates with delicacies, from succulent roasted meats to fragrant rice dishes, each bite a culinary delight.

You, too, are captivated by the festivities. For a moment, your worries and the strangeness of your situation melt away. You find yourself caught up in the joy of the evening, watching as people laugh, chat, and share stories, the room alive with the clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation.

The dance floor is a whirlwind of vibrant colours and graceful movement. Dancers in splendid attire twirl and spin, their footsteps matching the rhythm of the music. The dancers' costumes shimmer as they move, creating a visual spectacle that enchants all who watch.

At the head of the banquet hall, your father, the king, stands engaged in conversation with a group of merchants and nobles. He listens attentively to their concerns and disputes, displaying the unwavering resolve and wisdom that have earned him the respect of his subjects. Your mother, the queen, stands beside him, offering her insights and guidance, her caring nature a comforting presence amidst the discussions.

As you watch your parents in action, it's clear how they've earned the love and admiration of their people. The way they handle disputes and settle matters demonstrates their commitment to maintaining peace and justice within the kingdom. The hall may be filled with merriment, but their responsibilities as rulers are never far from their minds.

However, amidst the festivities and the rhythmic music, a strange feeling creeps over you. It's as if an invisible force is tugging at your senses, urging you to pay attention. Your gaze is drawn to the towering double doors that lead into the banquet hall, their grandeur a stark contrast to the vibrant revelry within.

You can't quite put your finger on it, but an unease washes over you, and you sense that something significant is about to happen. It's as if the very air in the room holds its breath, waiting for the storm that's about to descend. Your heart races, and you can't shake the feeling that those two wide doors may soon reveal a momentous event that will change the course of the evening and, perhaps, your own destiny.

"Jiyun," you call out to your trusted maid, and she appears at your side with remarkable swiftness, her head respectfully bowed.

"Yes, your majesty?" she replies, her voice filled with unwavering loyalty.

"Have you sensed it too?" you inquire, a tinge of apprehension in your voice.

"Sense what, your majesty?" Jiyun asks, her eyes focused on your every word.

"The feeling that something unexpected is about to transpire," you explain, your gaze shifting toward the grand doors as if they hold the key to the looming uncertainty.

The second you utter your words to Jiyun, a sense of foreboding hangs heavy in the air, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall takes on an eerie stillness. Before you can even finish your sentence, the grand double doors, adorned with exquisite carvings, burst open with a thunderous boom, sending the revelry to an abrupt halt.

In a chaotic rush, two guards burst into the hall, struggling to restrain a shirtless man who seems to be writhing and resisting their grasp. The unexpected intrusion sends ripples of shock through the assembled nobles and dignitaries. The musicians abruptly silence their instruments, and the dancers come to a standstill, their expressions a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

The king and the queen, who had been engaged in discussions with the merchants, rose swiftly from their thrones. Their expressions shift from surprise to stern authority as they take in the unfolding scene.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the king bellows, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. His words echo throughout the grand hall, quelling the previous merriment with an air of solemnity. The sudden silence is broken only by the shuffling of feet as the guards continue to drag the shirtless man toward the thrones, his struggles growing more frenzied. It appears as if the man has tattoos adorned all over his body and for some reason you cannot help but have an awful feeling of recognition as you peer at him.

The queen stands regally at the king's side, her countenance reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. The courtiers in attendance exchange hushed whispers, speculating on the nature of the commotion, while a palpable tension fills the room.

The shirtless man's writhing and protests become more desperate, and his incoherent mutterings are barely discernible over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. The guards eventually manage to bring him to a halt, though his wild, dishevelled appearance remains a stark contrast to the opulence of the banquet hall. Throughout all of this, his head remains bowed, nobody able to see his face.

The man is positioned before the thrones, on his knees, the king's piercing gaze fixates on him, his face an impenetrable mask of authority and curiosity. The queen, her hand resting lightly on the arm of the throne, watches with an unwavering presence. The courtiers wait with bated breath, their eyes darting between the king, the queen, and the dishevelled intruder, uncertain of what will transpire next in this unexpected turn of events.

The dishevelled intruder, who had been forcibly brought before the king, stands silent and disoriented as the guards explain their discovery.

“We found him outside the palace, lurking and behaving suspiciously, which prompted our cautious approach.” The guard's voices are tense as they speak, “this man, in his moments of distress, declared that is from a different time, claiming he does not belong here.”

The king and queen share nervous glances before peering back at the guards who are cautiously watching over the man.

“Your highnesses, I fear that he is an alien.”

The hushed shock that washes over the assembly is palpable. Whispers of fear and disbelief ripple through the room like an unsettling breeze. The nobles and courtiers exchange uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

The king, his brows furrowed in contemplation, leans forward on his throne, his eyes fixed on the man before him. The queen stands beside him, her poise unwavering as she assesses the unfolding situation.

The courtiers remain silent, awaiting the king's judgement.

In the midst of the whispers and speculation, the king calls upon the disoriented intruder, “lift your head boy, make your presence known.”

The man obeys, and as he raises his eyes to meet the king's gaze, a collective gasp sweeps through the room.

Your heart stops in your chest and you cannot believe your eyes.

The man who stands before you bears a striking resemblance to San from Ateez, the boy group you fervently fangirled over in your previous world. His appearance, his features, the way he holds himself, all are uncannily reminiscent of your idol.

His eyes scan the bewildering faces of the courtiers, and it's evident that he's utterly lost and bewildered in this foreign world. His expression reflects a deep sense of longing, as if he's desperately searching for a familiar face or a comforting presence.

"What is your name, young man?" the queen questions, her voice carrying a tone of cautious empathy. It's clear that she feels a sense of compassion for the disoriented intruder, even as the mystery of his presence looms.

"Choi San," he responds, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and confusion.

The moment those two simple words leave his lips, a wave of emotion crashes over you. It's not just the sight of an idol you adore, but the realisation that he, too, has been uprooted from his world and thrust into this unfamiliar one, much like yourself. The overwhelming weight of this revelation washes over you.

“He doesn't look like an alien.” the king says, his eyes scanning San diligently.

“I’m not, I swear. I have no idea where I am. I woke up and I was in this random forest surrounded by people I have never seen before.”

"Show respect to your king and queen," the guard to Choi San's left commands, his voice stern and unyielding. With a swift motion, he strikes San's back, causing him to stumble forward and crash onto the polished floor. San's palms catch his fall just in the nick of time, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. The image of his fall, the vulnerability of the idol you used to admire, stirs a mixture of emotions within you.

The desire to rush down there, to offer comfort and understanding, wells up within you. You long to convey to him that you share the same strange predicament, that you, too, have been thrust into this unfamiliar world. But you understand the delicate balance that hangs in the air, the potential for suspicion and chaos that could arise if your secret were to be revealed.

The room watches in tense silence as San struggles to regain his composure. He rises to his feet, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion etched on his face. His eyes dart around the room, searching for some semblance of familiarity, some connection to the world he once knew.

You can't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and assistance. Your heart aches for him, knowing that you share this extraordinary journey and the burden of its mysteries. But for now, you remain on your elevated throne, concealing your true identity and the emotional turmoil that brews beneath the surface, for the sake of the kingdom, the king, and the queen who have so graciously extended their protection and hospitality to you.

The air in the grand banquet hall crackles with tension, as everyone grapples with the enigma of the stranger who claims to be from a different time, a supposed alien who defies all reason and explanation. The room remains suspended in a moment of uncertainty, and the world as you know it seems to hang in the balance, poised on the brink of an extraordinary revelation.

You exchange a swift, knowing glance with Jiyun, her eyes are filled with concern, mirroring the emotions that churn within you.

“Show him to the dungeon, tomorrow he will be sent back to where he belongs.” The king bellows, his voice stern as your eyes narrow in fear.

In a fleeting moment, San's eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps in your chest. The intensity of that brief connection sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't restrain the tears that well up in your eyes as you witness the guard seizing him and forcibly dragging him away from the grand hall.

A sense of dread envelops you, and the heaviness in your chest becomes suffocating. You share a wordless glance with Jiyun, who is already formulating a plan to aid San. Her gaze meets yours, and she nods gently, a silent assurance that she is committed to helping him. With that unspoken understanding, the weight that had burdened your heart begins to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you may be able to make a difference in this unexpected turn of events.

With a deep breath, you compose yourself as the king commands the musicians to resume their melodies. The haunting, suspended atmosphere in the room gradually gives way to the spirited tunes of the instruments, infusing the space with renewed vitality. The mood in the grand banquet hall begins to shift, and the weight of the unexpected intrusion is momentarily eased by the enchanting melodies that fill the air.

The grand palace lies hushed and dark, save for the soft, flickering glow of the torches that line the hallways. It's the deep of night, the hour when even the most vigilant souls have succumbed to slumber. The world outside your window is cloaked in darkness, with only a few distant stars punctuating the sky.

In the seclusion of your chamber, you pace restlessly, the pattern of your footsteps a silent testament to your growing anxiety. The ornate furnishings and intricate tapestries seem to close in around you, their grandeur and opulence providing little comfort. You can't stop your heart from racing in your chest, its frenetic rhythm echoing the turmoil of your thoughts.

You cast occasional glances at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the first pale light of dawn, a harbinger of the world's awakening. Your hope lies in the arrival of Jiyun, who promised to fetch something that might provide a connection between you and San, the ‘stranger’ who shares your extraordinary predicament.

Minutes stretch into hours as you wait in solitude, each moment feeling like an eternity. The silence in the palace is profound, the hush of night amplifying every creak of the floor and rustle of the curtains. You can almost hear the beating of your own heart, a relentless reminder of your desperate circumstances.

As the night wears on, you recall the mysterious events that unfolded during the banquet. The revelation of San's presence, the shared bond of otherworldly displacement, and the unspoken promise of hope—all weigh heavily on your mind. You can't help but wonder if there's a connection between the two of you that defies all logic, a connection that Jiyun might be able to unearth.

The anticipation gnaws at you, the longing for answers and a sense of purpose driving you to pace even faster. You're acutely aware of the significance of the cloth Jiyun is meant to bring, and the potential it holds to unveil the truth of your peculiar journey.

With each passing moment, your anxiety intensifies, and the minutes tick away, carrying with them the uncertainty of your fate. You can only hope that the arrival of dawn will herald the arrival of Jiyun and, perhaps, the answers you so desperately seek.

As you continue to pace around your room, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. The faintest light begins to seep through the edges of your window, heralding the impending dawn. Just when your hope is beginning to wane, a soft knock at the door breaks the silence.

You rush to the door and swing it open to reveal Jiyun, her face etched with determination. In her hands, she holds a folded piece of cloth and a small bottle containing a mysterious liquid. She steps inside your chamber, and you close the door behind her.

"The plan is ready," Jiyun says, her voice a hushed whisper. "I've brought the cloth and this," she adds, indicating the small bottle. "The liquid inside will temporarily incapacitate the guard who protects the dungeon. It should give you enough time to get the man out of there."

Relief washes over you as you take the cloth and the bottle from Jiyun. The weight of your purpose now feels tangible, as if a glimmer of hope has emerged from the depths of the night.

You listen intently as Jiyun outlines the plan, the details falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. Your heart pounds in your chest, but there is a newfound determination within you. The connection you feel with San, the shared journey you both unknowingly embarked upon, has given you a sense of purpose that propels you forward.

Jiyun hands you a bag filled with essential supplies. Her voice is steady but laced with concern as she explains the plan. "I can provide for you for three days, maybe four at most, without raising suspicion. Within that time, either you or the true princess must return."

You contemplate the necessity of your absence and inquire, "What reason will you give for my absence?"

Jiyun's eyes convey a deep sense of loyalty as she replies, "I will inform them that you've contracted a highly contagious sickness that has left you bedridden and wanting to see no one."

You nod, absorbing the gravity of the situation. Gratitude wells up within you as you look at Jiyun, her gentle smile a source of reassurance. "Thank you, Jiyun. I realise the danger you're putting yourself in for my sake. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed, and I am profoundly grateful for your unwavering support."

“You would do the same for me, I’m sure.”

With the bag of supplies and Jiyun's invaluable guidance in mind, you make your way through the palace's labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages. The palace, under the cover of night, seems to take on a different character—a mysterious, almost haunting quality. Torches line the narrow passageways, casting long, flickering shadows on the ancient stone walls as you move stealthily through the dark.

The secrets of these passages, entrusted to you by Jiyun, are your lifeline in this mission. You navigate the intricate network with practised ease, ensuring that your movements are discreet, and your presence remains shrouded in the veil of night.

Finally, you reach the entrance to the dungeon, your heart pounding in your chest. Peeking around the corner, you spot the guard responsible for its protection, pacing up and down before the heavy wooden door. The flickering torchlight casts eerie shadows across his face, and the faint echoes of his footsteps reverberate through the corridor.

With impeccable timing, you wait for the moment when the guard turns his back to you, his attention momentarily diverted. Swiftly, you uncap the small bottle and pour its contents onto the cloth, making sure to keep your own hands clear of the liquid. The chemical scent is pungent, and you struggle to suppress a cough as you press the cloth to your mouth to avoid inhaling it.

As the guard's boots echo down the corridor away from you, you seize the opportunity. Soundlessly, you move closer to him, each step taken with the utmost care. With one hand gripping the cloth and the other steadying your movements, you approach him from behind.

When the guard looks away, his focus on the dimly lit passage beyond, you seize your chance. The cloth is pressed firmly against his mouth, and you brace for a moment of hesitation, uncertain of the outcome. The seconds stretch into eternity, but eventually, the guard's struggles wane, and his eyelids droop heavily.

He crumples to the stone floor, unconscious, his keys jangling as they hang from his belt. You offer a silent apology to the fallen guard before deftly retrieving the keys. With trembling hands, you unlock the heavy door to the dungeon, the creaking hinges echoing through the silence of the underground chamber.

The dungeon lies before you, a foreboding abyss. The uncertainty of what awaits within gnaws at you, but your determination is unwavering. The answers that may await you drive you forward as you step into the darkness of the dungeon, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls.

As you step into the dimly lit dungeon, you carry a candle torch to guide your way through the labyrinthine corridors. The passageway is narrow and oppressive, the cold stone walls seemingly bearing witness to the suffering of countless souls who have languished within its confines.

The cries and wails of the imprisoned echo off the damp stone, reaching your ears with haunting intensity. Desperate pleas for help, mournful laments, and the sound of hands beating against iron bars form a dissonant chorus that seems to reverberate through the very walls themselves.

Each cell you pass houses a new tragedy, a new story of despair, and it takes all your strength to press on, to bear witness to the suffering around you. As you move deeper into the dungeon, the cries of the prisoners grow louder, more heart-wrenching, and your heart aches with empathy for their plight.

But as you reach the very end of the corridor, a silence that is almost palpable falls upon you. It is a silence that is too profound, too ominous, and your heart clenches within your chest as you peer into the last cell. The flickering candlelight reveals a scene that fills you with dread.

There, in the corner of the cell, you find San, curled up in a small, trembling ball. His face is etched with exhaustion and fear, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and despair. The harsh, cold stones of the dungeon floor serve as his only comfort in this nightmarish world.

You approach the cell, your steps careful and measured, your candle torch casting eerie, flickering shadows on the walls. As you draw closer, you can see the anguish etched into San's features, his ragged clothing and unkempt appearance a testament to the trials he has endured in this unforgiving place.

Your heart goes out to him, the connection you share with this stranger deepening with each passing moment. The dungeon, with its heavy atmosphere and its occupants' mournful cries, bears witness to the suffering of many, but it is San's vulnerability and isolation that capture your attention.

"San," you whisper, your voice a soft, comforting presence in the dimly lit cell. He turns toward you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, a reflection of the pain and fear that have plagued him.

"Please don't hurt me," his trembling words break your heart, and you struggle to hold back your own tears as you witness his vulnerability.

With gentle assurance, you reply, "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise." Your words are a lifeline, a beacon of hope for the scared and confused young man before you. With the keys in hand, you unlock the cell door and step inside.

San's eyes search your face, filled with a mix of disbelief and curiosity as you offer him some food from your bag. He hesitates before accepting, his trust gradually building as he takes the sustenance you provide.

"Why are you here then? You're the princess, aren't you?" San questions, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

With a deep breath, you choose your words carefully, wanting to ease his fears. "This might sound crazy, but I think we're from the same world."

San's eyes widen in astonishment, his disbelief slowly giving way to hope as he watches you closely. He lifts himself onto his knees to be closer to your level, the shadows of the cell casting eerie patterns on the walls.

"Really? How do you know?" San asks, his voice filled with a glimmer of expectation.

You offer a reassuring smile and pose a question that will connect your two worlds. "Well, I know you're San, Choi San from Ateez, right?"

San's eyes glisten with tears of relief, his voice quivering with emotion as he confirms, "Yes, yes, yes. I am. I'm from Ateez, and it's 2023, not the 1300s." The weight that had burdened his heart is lifted, and the possibility of a return to the world he knows is within his reach. He continues, “what is happening? How did we end up here?”

“I’ll explain as we walk, we need to get out of here.”

San's confusion lingers, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes grows stronger as he stands up. With a sense of newfound determination, the two of you make your way out of the cell, leaving the door unlocked behind you. As you exit the dungeon, you can't help but glance back, knowing that you've left behind the shadows of suffering that still haunt its depths.

Together, you navigate the secret passages that brought you to the dungeon, retracing your steps with the candle torch guiding your way. The path is familiar to you now, and with San by your side, it feels like the journey is filled with a sense of purpose and unity.

The passageway eventually leads you to the royal stables, a place of shadows and echoes, where the silence of the night surrounds you. Jiyun's foresight is evident as you find a horse tethered and ready for your departure. It's a magnificent creature, a steed fit for a princess, and its presence is a testament to Jiyun's unwavering support.

You help San mount the horse, his grip on the reins steady but cautious. The animal is surprisingly calm and cooperative, as if it senses the urgency of your mission. With San in the saddle, you mount your own horse, and together, you prepare to ride into the night.

Making your way out of the royal stables, the world outside awaits you, shrouded in darkness. The streets of the ancient city are quiet, its occupants fast asleep, unaware of the extraordinary events that are unfolding within the palace walls.

The night air is cool and refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of hooves hitting the cobblestone streets resonates through the quiet city. You ride with determination, guiding your horses through the labyrinthine streets, following the route that Jiyun has carefully planned.

With each passing moment, you draw closer to the edge of the city, your breath visible in the cold night air. The feeling of freedom, of escaping the palace and its secrets, surges through you. You and San are bound by an unspoken connection, a shared journey that defies time and place.

The town's lights grow distant, you can't help but steal a glance at San, who rides beside you. His face, once etched with fear and confusion, now carries a glimmer of hope. In the silence of the night, the world holds its breath, and the weight of the unknown future rests on your shoulders.

Together, you ride toward the horizon, leaving behind the palace and the secrets that shroud your extraordinary journey. The path ahead is uncertain, but the possibilities are boundless, and in the darkness of the night, you find a shared purpose that unites your fates in this unfamiliar world.

You and San ride through the night, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets gradually fading into the distance. The ancient city of the palace is left behind, its towering walls and mysteries hidden in the darkness.

The first light of dawn tints the horizon and you continue on your journey, venturing into the unknown.

Hours pass, and you ride together, the bond of your shared experience growing stronger with each mile that falls behind you. The quietude of the countryside surrounds you, the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the gentle song of birds in the distance. San wishes to ask questions, he has thousands on his mind, yet he stays silent as the two of you continue your journey.

Finally, on the horizon, a small town comes into view. Its quaint cottages and bustling marketplaces offer a glimpse of civilization in the midst of the open countryside. With each step you take, you hope to find reassurance and a glimmer of hope in this unfamiliar place.

You and San guide your horses toward the town, a sense of anticipation filling your hearts. The town represents a new beginning, a place where your shared journey can find some direction, where answers may await you, and where the extraordinary circumstances that have brought you together may start to make sense.

Approaching the town's outskirts, the warmth of the rising sun casts a golden glow on the streets and rooftops, and the townsfolk go about their daily routines, unaware of the two strangers who have arrived on horseback.

Among the quaint buildings, you spot a charming cottage with a wooden sign hanging above the door, which reads "The Golden Horseshoe Inn." The inviting aroma of freshly baked bread wafts through the open windows, and the cheerful hum of conversation emanates from within.

You dismount from your horses and tether them to a nearby post before entering the inn. The interior is cosy and warm, with wooden beams and rustic furnishings. A fireplace crackles in the corner, casting a gentle, flickering light that dances across the room. A friendly innkeeper stands behind the bar, wiping down mugs and chatting with a group of locals.

Approaching the innkeeper, you offer a polite smile and address them. "Good morning. My friend and I are in need of a place to stay. Do you have any rooms available?"

The innkeeper returns your smile with a warm one of their own and nods. "How long will you be staying?"

You exchange a quick glance with San before answering. "We're not entirely sure. Perhaps a few days to start with."

The innkeeper retrieves a key from a nearby rack and hands it to you. "Very well. We have a couple of rooms upstairs. You can choose the one you prefer."

You thank the innkeeper and head upstairs with San, the creaking wooden steps leading you to a hallway lined with doors. The rooms are simple but comfortable, each furnished with a bed, a small writing desk, and a window that overlooks the bustling street below.

After inspecting a couple of rooms, you settle on one with a cosy, inviting atmosphere. You take out some coins and return downstairs to pay for the room. The innkeeper accepts your payment with a friendly smile, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief at having found a safe haven in this new world.

With the key to your room in hand, you make your way back upstairs with San.

The moment you are in the room, you hand San some more comfortable clothes than the rags he is currently wearing.

“I forgot to give you these earlier, I’m sorry. Go change, I’ll wait outside.”

"Thank you…" San trails off, his voice tinged with gratitude but hesitating as he doesn't know your name.

You offer a warm smile and reply with your name. San's eyes light up as he hears your name, and he nods in appreciation. With that, you exit the room, leaving him some privacy to get ready.

While San prepares for the day, you make your way downstairs to the inn's tavern, which is located beneath the lodging area. The scent of fresh bread and brewed coffee fills the air, creating a cosy and welcoming ambiance. You take a seat at a wooden table and glance around the room, observing the locals who are starting their day with hearty breakfasts and lively conversation.

You place an order for two breakfasts, ensuring that San will have a warm meal to start the day. As you wait for the food to arrive, you reflect on the journey that has brought you to this new world and the newfound bond you share with San. The townsfolk, too, go about their daily routines, their world untouched by the extraordinary circumstances that have reshaped your lives.

Sitting at the wooden table in the cosy tavern beneath the inn, your gaze is drawn to the staircase that leads down from the upper rooms. Moments later, you watch as San descends the stairs, his steps graceful and fluid.

Even in the plain, old clothes he now wears, there's an undeniable magnetism about him. His raven-black hair framing his face, his features are striking, and his presence exudes a certain charisma that you recognize immediately. It's as if he possesses a natural star quality, a glow that transcends time and place.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you observe him. The way he moves, the confidence in his steps, and the undeniable aura that surrounds him—these are the very qualities that made him an idol in your world. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs and meets your gaze, you exchange a knowing look.

It becomes clear to you that the essence of who San is goes beyond his role as a performer. His appeal, his talent, and his undeniable charm are deeply rooted in his very being. You appreciate that there's more to him than meets the eye, and the unique connection you share in this extraordinary journey only deepens your admiration for the person who is not just an idol but also a fellow traveller in this unfamiliar world.

San takes a seat in front of you at the wooden table, his eyes filled with gratitude as he speaks quietly, "Thank you so much for the help."

"Of course," you reply with a warm smile, appreciating the opportunity to assist someone in this unfamiliar world.

Curiosity sparks in San's eyes as he leans in slightly, his interest piqued. "So how did you know it was me, from Ateez?"

You consider the question for a moment before deciding to reveal the truth. "Well, in our world..." you begin, hesitating for a brief moment.

San's eyes widen with surprise, and he leans in closer, eager to hear more. "What is it?"

You lower your voice, as if sharing a secret. "I may or may not be an Atiny, and I recognized you right away."

A smile spreads across San's face, and a sense of camaraderie fills the air as you both share this unexpected connection. In this extraordinary world and situation, your shared love for Ateez transcends time and place, and you find comfort in the bond that links you together.

"Seriously?" San's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You nod, your voice earnest as you reply, "Yes, why would I lie about it?"

San chuckles softly, still trying to process the information. "I don't know, that's actually insane, though."

You can't help but smile at his reaction. "I guess so."

San's curiosity shifts to a topic that seems of utmost importance to him. "Who is your bias?"

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your face. "Is that really what's important right now?"

San's eyes widen, his tone as serious as if discussing a crucial matter. "Yes, very important."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you respond, "It's a secret."

San grumbles and rolls his eyes, his familiar antics making you giggle. It's reassuring to see that, despite the extraordinary circumstances, he remains somewhat himself from the world you both know.

After taking a bite of his bread, San shifts the conversation, his expression curious. "What do you do? You know, in our world."

You offer a genuine smile as you share your passion. "Oh, I run a cafe in Seoul."

San's face lights up with enthusiasm. "That's so nice! Where is it?"

"It's actually really close to the KQ building, next to the flower shop."

San's eyes widen in realisation. "Wait, really? That's very close. I'll stop by there when we get out."

A bittersweet smile crosses your face as you admit, "If it's still in business."

San's concern deepens as he probes further. "What do you mean?"

You meet his gaze and explain, "Business was really slow when I was there. I've been gone for a few months now, so I doubt it'll still be open."

San's expression turns serious as he processes your words. "Wait a second... a few months?" The realisation dawns on him, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and understanding, as the magnitude of your situation sinks in.

“Yeah, I haven’t had the chance to get out due to being a princess,” you look up at San, your eyes grateful as you look at him, “which is why it’s so great you are here. It feels like I have a chance to get home.”

San smiles at you, sympathy and understanding in his eyes as he realises how long you've been trapped in this world. But then, a spark of curiosity ignites in his gaze.

"So, what was the last thing you remember before getting here?" San inquires, his voice filled with intrigue.

You furrow your brow, the memories of that moment still vivid. "I was working in the cafe, and all of a sudden, it just went black. When I woke up, I was in the palace."

San nods in recognition, a shared experience that links your worlds. "Me too," he admits, "I was practising for our comeback. It suddenly went black, and I heard Hongjoong yelling my name. But when I woke up, I was in the forest, wearing the same clothes I had in my 'Warriors' music video."

Your curiosity piques as you catch a detail you hadn't expected. "Wait a second. What music video?"

San's eyes widen with enthusiasm as he realises that you've been out of touch with their latest work. "Oh, you haven't seen it because you've been here!" he exclaims. "I did a dance cover, and that's why I have these tattoos."

You chuckle at his response. "I was wondering if you had gotten so many tattoos in two months."

San laughs, appreciating your humour. "It was just part of the concept. We filmed it in front of the Gyeongbokgung Palace."

San's words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you find yourself needing to clarify the astonishing coincidence.

"What did you just say?" you inquire, your voice tinged with amazement.

San blinks, seemingly unaware of the profound revelation that's unfolding. "What?"

You lean in closer, your eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition. "Gyeongbokgung. I went there a few months ago, a week before I appeared here. How long has it been since you've been there?"

San's eyes widen in realisation as the pieces of the puzzle start to align. "Uh, well, it was filmed on Wednesday, so... a week ago. Wait."

The implications of your shared experiences weigh heavy on your minds. The timing and location seem more than just a coincidence. It's as if a bridge between two worlds has been formed, connecting the moments you both mysteriously entered this unfamiliar reality.

"You went there a week ago yesterday?" you inquire, your mind racing as the pieces of the puzzle align.

San's eyes light up with realisation as he nods eagerly. "Then it must be something related to Gyeongbokgung!"

The shared excitement between you and San is palpable as you uncover this incredible connection. Gyeongbokgung, the place where you both last remember being in your respective worlds before finding yourselves in this strange new reality, is the common link that binds your experiences.

"We should go there now," you suggest, a sense of urgency in your voice. "It should be here around this time, maybe we can find something to help us."

San nods enthusiastically, his focus now on finishing his meal as quickly as possible. He stuffs down his food, eager to expedite your departure.

Once his mouth is free of food, San inquires, "Do you have a map?"

"Ah, yes," you reply, reaching into your bag to retrieve the map that Jiyun had thoughtfully packed for your journey. Carefully, you unspread the map on the wooden table.

"Okay, so we should be here right now," you say, tracing your location with a finger, "then Gyeongbokgung will be…"

San's eyes follow your finger as he points towards the parchment, spotting the small letters displaying 'palace.' "I see it."

You calculate the distance and the remaining daylight. "If we leave now, we can make it before sundown."

San's determination matches yours as he eagerly exclaims, "Then what are we waiting for?"

With your destination set and a shared purpose driving you forward, you and San finish your meal, gather your belongings, and prepare to embark on a journey that may hold the key to unravelling the mysteries of your extraordinary situation. The tavern, once filled with chatter and the clinking of mugs, now watches you both as you stand, ready to venture into the unknown in search of answers.

You and San make your way to the stable where your horses were kept. The sun is still high in the sky, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. As you approach the stable, the familiar scent of hay and leather fills the air.

However, as you step into the stable, a sense of unease washes over you. One of the stalls is empty, and you immediately notice that your horse is missing. Panic begins to rise within you.

San senses your distress and looks around, his expression mirroring your concern. "Where's your horse?"

You hurry over to the stable keeper, who is tending to the remaining horses. "Excuse me," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, "my horse is missing. Do you know what happened?"

The stable keeper wipes his hands on a cloth and turns to face you. "I'm so sorry, miss. When I went to get their food, your horse got spooked and ran off into the woods. I tried to catch it, but it was too fast."

Your heart sinks at the news, and you exchange a worried glance with San. Losing a horse is a significant setback, and you'll need to find a solution to continue your journey.

San speaks up, "Is there any way we can track it or find it?"

The stable keeper scratches his head, deep in thought. "There are some villagers who know the woods well and might be able to help. But it could take some time."

With no other options, you share a glance with San.

“We can share mine, we have no time to look for it,” San offers and you let out a sharp exhale.

“Okay…”

The stable keeper helps you prepare the horse, ensuring that the saddle and reins are secure. It's not ideal, but you don't have much choice if you want to reach Gyeongbokgung Palace before sundown.

San climbs onto the horse, offering you a hand to help you up in front of him. Settling into the saddle, you can't help but feel the warmth of his presence close behind you. The two of you share a glance, and you notice his red cheeks.

San's concern for your comfort is evident, and he expresses it as you both share the horse. His apology for the close proximity reflects his consideration for your feelings.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I didn't expect us to be so close. I can move back a little if you want. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You offer a reassuring smile, eager to put his worries to rest. "It's okay, San. Let's just get to the palace."

Beginning to lead the horse in the direction of Gyeongbokgung Palace, San shifts his position on the saddle, inadvertently causing him to bump forward and press his chest against your back. A rush of warmth fills your cheeks, but you do your best to stay composed.

"I'm so sorry," San says, his face turning a shade of crimson. His embarrassment is evident, and you find his reaction endearing.

You guide the horse along the path, focusing on your destination, when San inquires, "Where should I put my hands?"

Your heart flutters at the question, and you're grateful that you’re facing forward so he doesn't see your flustered expression.

"Just wrap your arms around my waist," you reply. "I don't mind, really."

San hesitates, his concern still evident. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

You smile at his thoughtfulness but gently urge him, "San, please, just hurry up. We need to reach the palace before nightfall."

San follows your instructions and wraps his arms securely around your waist. His touch is gentle, yet you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It causes you to momentarily lose focus, the surreal nature of the situation overwhelming your thoughts. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined being in this position with one of your favourite idols.

San's chest presses against your back, and you can sense the beating of his heart, echoing the rapid rhythm of your own. Both of you are embroiled in this unique experience, and you remain unaware of the thoughts racing through San's mind.

For San, the situation is equally unprecedented. His face is flushed with a bright shade of red, and he holds onto you with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. The proximity between the two of you, the shared adventure, and the bond that's forming in this extraordinary world are causing his heart to open up in ways he couldn't have anticipated.

With each moment that passes, your connection deepens, and you become a source of support and comfort for each other in this unfamiliar and often challenging world. It's a journey that neither of you could have predicted, but as you ride together, you find solace in the warmth of each other's presence.

Continuing your journey together, San's voice takes on a low, intimate tone. It's as if he wants to keep the conversation between the two of you, sharing this moment in the midst of your unusual adventure. His breath tickles your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Tell me about yourself," he asks, his voice gentle and curious.

You find his proximity comforting and decide to share a piece of your past with him. "What do you want to know?"

San listens attentively, his breath soft against your ear. "What was your favourite part of running the cafe?"

You smile at the memory, feeling a sense of nostalgia for your old life. "I think my favourite part was seeing people come in, enjoying their coffee or a meal, and leaving with a smile. It was like creating a little oasis where people could take a break from their busy lives."

“That’s nice.” San's warm presence and the intimate conversation create a sense of connection that transcends the boundaries of time and place. You find yourself opening up to him, sharing stories from your past and learning more about his own experiences.

"I have an important question," San suddenly says, his tone becoming playful as he awaits your response.

You raise an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone, "And what would that be, San?"

A mischievous glint dances in San's eyes as he asks, "What's your favourite Ateez song?"

You chuckle gently at his question. "I'm being serious!"

San's playful demeanour and the imagined pout in his voice make you smile. You can almost picture the look he's giving you, having seen countless videos of him making that expression.

"Okay, okay," you reply, "that's a tough question. I tend to like the b-sides more, to be honest."

San encourages you to share more, his curiosity piqued. You reflect for a moment before answering, "Turbulence and Mist have a special place in my heart."

"Really?" San's voice carries a warm and intriguing tone. "Why is that?"

You pause, considering your response. "Well, I was going through a really tough time a while ago. I don't know, these songs just feel like a warm hug. Like someone is there for me."

San listens intently to your words, his heart swelling with compassion and understanding. "I'm glad we could be there for you during that difficult time."

“Thank you,”

San's eyes soften, and his voice takes on a soothing tone as he responds, "You don't have to thank us. Music has a way of reaching people when they need it most, and it's an honour to know that our songs could be there for you during those difficult times."

Tears well up in your eyes as you remember the moments when you turned to music as your solace. You've found comfort and strength in the melodies and lyrics that resonated with your emotions. It's a powerful connection that transcends time and place, and it's something you and San now share.

Drawing closer to your destination, the palace towers in the distance become more prominent, the air is filled with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The scenery around you is both breathtaking and mysterious, mirroring the unique connection that has grown between you.

San glances over at you, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Can I ask you something?"

You meet his gaze and offer a warm smile. "Of course."

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he finally asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question catches you slightly off guard, but you answer honestly, "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

San raises an eyebrow, and a playful smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I didn't expect that."

You chuckle at his response. "What do you mean by that?"

San's gaze softens, and he offers a sincere explanation. "Well, you're really kind, caring, and incredibly determined. Not to mention, you are very beautiful, I guess I thought someone like you would already have someone special in their life."

A heat creeps up on your cheeks as you feel a flutter in your heart. San's compliments catch you by surprise, and you find yourself at a loss for words for a moment. Burying your face in your hands to hide your flustered expression, San watches you with a fond expression.

You smile and say, "Thank you, San. You're pretty amazing yourself."

Hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should say this, you decide to speak. "I have a husband, though."

San's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What do you mean? I thought you were single?"

You can't help but grin mischievously before you clarify, "His name is Mingi."

San's incredulous expression is almost comical. "Your bias is Mingi?"

You nod with a playful glint in your eye. "Yes. Why is that such a bad thing?"

San can't help but laugh, "It's not, Mingi is amazing, but come on? I'm here right now. I should be your bias."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him further, "You have to earn it."

San scoffs before retorting, “what, did Mingi body roll his way into your bias spot?”

“Precisely.”

San leans in closer, a playful glint in his eye. "And what about my cyberpunk performance?"

You contemplate for a moment, then acknowledge with a nod, "Ooh, nice. I have to admit. But Mingi in bouncy was a whole snack."

San pretends to be offended, teasing you back, "What, are you a pervert?"

You protest, "No, you started it!" However, San’s laughter at your reaction causes a wide smile to grow on your face.

San's thoughts drift in the midst of the journey towards Gyeongbokgung Palace, he finds himself mesmerised not only by your unique personality but also by your captivating beauty. He can't help but be struck by the allure of your presence and the way the soft light of the setting sun enhances your features, making you glow in an almost ethereal manner.

To him, you are not just intriguing and kind, but you're also incredibly beautiful, inside and out. Your allure has a magnetic quality that pulls him in, leaving him in awe of the remarkable person he has come to know. The warmth he feels in his heart is not just from the shared connection but from the undeniable appreciation of your inner and outer beauty.

"San?" you question, noticing his distraction and wondering what has captured his attention so deeply.

San blinks, almost like he's been caught in the act of something secret, and quickly replies, "Yes!"

You can't help but chuckle at his somewhat startled expression. "We are here."

The magnificent Gyeongbokgung Palace stands before you, its grandeur and beauty making the journey worthwhile. You both dismount from the horse, and as you step onto the palace grounds, the weight of the world's mysteries and your unique connection continues to loom over your heads.

The palace grounds are a bustling hive of activity, even as the day inches towards twilight. Commoners from all walks of life have gathered to admire the magnificent architecture, wander through the lush gardens, and soak in the historical splendour of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

San and yourself make your way through the lively crowds, you discreetly raise a scarf to drape over your head, partially concealing your face. Though you are not accustomed to the recognition and respect bestowed upon you as a supposed princess in this world, you are aware that you must maintain your appearance. To the people here, you are not the cafe owner from Seoul but a royal figure who demands respect.

Your attire and the scarf shroud your identity, giving you a degree of anonymity as you navigate the palace's vast courtyards and intricate passageways. San walks alongside you, blending seamlessly into the throng of visitors, his presence a source of both comfort and companionship.

The whispers of the crowd, the laughter of children, and the gasps of awe as they take in the grandeur of the palace envelop you. It's a vivid reminder of the rich history that envelops you, and for a brief moment, you forget about the strangeness of the world you've been thrust into. The palace comes alive with the shared fascination of the visitors, and you and San are just two more among the countless souls wandering through its storied halls.

You are keenly aware of the importance of maintaining your facade as you traverse the palace. The scarf that conceals your features becomes your shield, protecting your true identity and allowing you to move freely among the people, your thoughts locked in a delicate balance between the two worlds you now inhabit.

Continuing to meander through the throngs of people, San leans in close to you and murmurs in your ear, "So, what exactly are we looking for?"

You contemplate for a moment, the palace's grandeur and historical significance surrounding you, before replying, "I don't know, maybe something that still exists in our world."

San offers a smile of approval, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's a good start. You're super smart."

You chuckle, appreciating the compliment but also trying to play it cool so he doesn't notice the way your heart beats faster, "Stop flattering me; it's not going to make you my bias."

San lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes playfully, his lips curving into a grin. "Well, it's worth a try, right?"

The two of you share a moment of lighthearted banter, the playfulness of your conversation providing a brief respite from the mysteries that shroud your current circumstances.

As you and San navigate the bustling palace, you suggest a plan, saying, "I'll go around the left, and you go around the right. It'll be quicker for us to split up." Your eyes dart around, on the lookout for any sign of noblemen or advisors who may recognize you.

San, however, appears concerned and holds your arm gently, restraining you from moving away. "What if you get in trouble?"

You smile reassuringly and reply, "I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you." You chuckle softly, trying to hide the fluttering sensation that his touch on your arm ignites. "Stay low, and please don't go around announcing you're from another world. If you end up in the dungeon, it won't be as easy for me to rescue you."

Your words carry a sense of caution, the weight of your shared journey growing more apparent as you prepare to part ways temporarily within the palace. It's a moment of both anticipation and apprehension, knowing that your decisions in this unfamiliar world can have unforeseen consequences.

"Just meet me back here in an hour," you say, giving San a warm smile before parting ways.

San nods, his expression affectionate and filled with genuine concern. "Stay safe."

With those parting words, you both venture into different directions within the bustling palace, each with your own quest and the hope of uncovering clues that may lead you closer to understanding the mysteries of your dual existence.

You methodically search through the palace, scouring every nook and cranny without raising suspicion. Every rock, every brick, and every detail of the architecture comes under your scrutiny, yet nothing stands out as the mysterious link between your two worlds. It's a challenging task, as you're not even entirely sure what you're looking for.

After what feels like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, you glance up at the position of the sun in the sky. The hour has nearly passed, and it's time to make your way back to the agreed meeting point. The crowd begins to thin, and you're aware of the increasing risk of drawing attention to yourself if you continue your search.

Heading back to the designated spot, you spot San already approaching, a sense of defeat etched on his face.

When he reaches you, he inquires, "Did you find anything?"

You shake your head, disappointment clear in your expression. "No, nothing. It's hard to look for something when we don't even know what we're searching for."

Desperation creeps into your voice as you continue, "Tell me everything that happened when you were filming, every small detail that could be significant."

San furrows his brows in deep thought, trying to recall every detail from that day. "Well, one of the dancers ripped his pants during a take. There was an odd rock that almost all of us tripped over at one point..."

You press him for more, your sense of urgency growing. "And what else?"

San's eyes light up with realisation. "I don't know if this is relevant, but there was this old lady. She wouldn't leave us alone unless we bought one of her tassels. The owner told us she's always there, selling charms and whatnot."

Your heart skips a beat as San mentions the old lady. The pieces start to fall into place, and you can't help but feel that you're on the verge of a breakthrough. "An old lady? I saw an old lady too! She sold me a charm to bring love into my life."

“She also sold me one for love!” San exclaims as the dots line up in his head also.

Walking together toward the area where your horse is stabled, you and San discuss the topic about the old lady.

"If only she were here right now," San grumbles, his lips forming a pout. "We could see if her charm is what made us end up here."

You both engage in light banter, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. The prospect of the old lady's charm being the catalyst for your parallel journeys is almost too surreal to contemplate.

Then, unexpectedly, something, no, someone captures your attention. Emerging from the grand palace doors is a woman who looks incredibly familiar. Your heart skips a beat as you experience a moment of déjà vu, as if the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you.

"San," you say, drawing the young man's attention. He had been aimlessly kicking around stones out of frustration.

"I think she's here right now," you explain, your voice quivering with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“I thought you were smart, that’s impossible,” San pivots to where you're looking, his eyes widening with shock upon seeing the woman exiting the palace.

In an instant, your eyes meet, and an unspoken understanding passes between you. You both know that you must act quickly to seize this unexpected opportunity.

Without a word, you take off running together in the direction of the woman, your hearts pounding with anticipation.

"Lady!" you yell, your voice echoing through the palace courtyard. Your cry catches her attention as you and San draw nearer, but instead of stopping to address you, she immediately turns and bolts away, disappearing into the forest.

Determined, you give chase, your heart pounding as you follow her into the dense woods. It's puzzling how an elderly woman can move so nimbly, but you're driven by the urgency of your quest.

After a few intense minutes of pursuit, you finally manage to close the gap. Your hand lands firmly on her shoulder, bringing her to an abrupt halt. The old lady, her breath laboured and eyes wide, is now captive in your grasp, and you're ready to seek the answers you've been searching for.

San is close behind the two of you and when he reaches you he places his hand on a nearby tree, trying to catch his breath.

"For an old lady, you're really fast," San exclaims, trying to catch his breath.

You can't help but chuckle at his dishevelled state. "Aren't you supposed to be really athletic?" you retort, teasing him lightly.

"In this world, no," San replies, catching his breath before turning his attention to the old lady. "Please, give us answers."

The old lady, her voice hoarse, attempts to catch her breath as well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

San looks at her with an expression of disbelief, as if he can't fathom her response. "Yes, you do. You bolted in the other direction when we approached you."

The lady, appearing somewhat offended, glances between you and San before responding, "Approached? I beg your pardon. How would you like it if two strangers were hurtling towards you?"

You almost burst into laughter at her retort, and you can see the incredulous look on San's face. The situation has taken an unexpected turn.

"Look, ma'am," you interject, trying to steer the conversation in a more serious direction. "We're well aware that you know something about us. We just want some answers."

The lady rolls her eyes before scanning her surroundings as if she's checking for any potential eavesdroppers. This action puzzles both you and San, and you exchange bewildered glances. San simply shrugs his shoulders in confusion, unsure of what to make of this mysterious encounter.

“Not here though,” her tone turns serious as she leads you further into the woods.

The woods, although unfamiliar, have a hauntingly beautiful quality to them. Tall, ancient trees stretch their gnarled limbs towards the sky, forming a canopy of leaves that filter the low sunlight, creating a mystical, ethereal atmosphere. The ground is carpeted with a thick layer of moss and ferns, lending an otherworldly green hue to the forest floor. Birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze provide a melodic backdrop to your journey, adding to the sense of enchantment that surrounds you.

Despite the woods' eerie charm, there's an undeniable feeling of isolation and obscurity as you venture deeper into its depths. The silence here is deafening, save for the occasional chirping of a distant bird or the rustling of unseen critters in the underbrush. Shafts of muted, golden sunlight pierce through the dense foliage, casting elongated shadows on the forest floor.

As you approach the fallen tree blocking the path, you marvel at its sheer size and age. It appears to have been lying here for centuries, with gnarled roots and crumbling bark that hint at the passage of time. The tree's massive branches extend into the undergrowth, creating an imposing and challenging barrier to your progress.

The old lady, still leading the way, jumps lithely over the tree, demonstrating a remarkable agility that seems out of place for her age. Her movements are fluid and graceful, as if the forest itself welcomes her presence.

San stands beside the fallen tree, offering you his hand, his eyes filled with concern and support. You grasp his hand, and he assists you in navigating the obstacle. As you make your attempt to cross, your foot catches on a stubborn root, causing you to lose your balance. Just as you teeter precariously, San's strong arm wraps around your waist, ensuring you don't fall. His touch is comforting, and for a brief moment, you both share a wordless connection as you regain your footing. San's heart lurches in his chest upon making contact with you, and he can't help but smile when he notices the flustered expression on your face.

The old lady observes this interaction from a distance, her knowing eyes filled with a fond amusement, and she motions for you to continue following her deeper into the forest. The journey becomes even more enigmatic and intriguing as you move forward, leaving the fallen tree behind and plunging further into the mystical beauty and mystery of the woods.

Slowly, the sun dips below the horizon making the woods take on an eerie quality. The once vibrant and lush forest now transforms into a mysterious and dark place. The temperature drops, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can't help but feel a little scared and vulnerable in this unfamiliar environment.

San, noticing your discomfort, moves a bit closer to you, not touching but making sure you know he's there for you. His presence brings some comfort, and you lean slightly into him, seeking warmth and assurance. Just as you're starting to relax, a howl echoes through the woods, sending a jolt of fear through your body. You instinctively press your arm against San, finding solace in his nearness.

"Are those wolves?" you ask, your voice quivering.

San, his cheeks slightly flushed, offers a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I'm here," he says with a touch of affection in his tone, making your heart skip a beat.

Still feeling uneasy, you keep your eyes on the darkening forest.

San notices your increasing anxiousness and quickly starts a conversation to distract you, "have you ever been to one of our concerts?" San asks, his curiosity piqued.

You shake your head, the tension slowly easing. "No, actually. I've been so focused on my education and then opening the café that I've barely had time. But now it's just a money problem. I've put all my savings into the café."

San nods, showing genuine interest in your dedication. "You're really dedicated to the café."

A soft smile plays on your lips. "It's been my dream since I was young."

San's curiosity heightens, he wants to know more. "Why is that?"

You take a deep breath, allowing the beauty of the moment to wash over you, the eerie woods, the presence of San beside you, and your shared stories. "Well, when I was a kid, my mother owned a cafe. I used to help her around when I was young, and I always wanted to own the cafe when she retired. I loved the way it brought people together. It's like a place where you can escape from your daily life, enjoy a cup of coffee, and maybe even make a new friend. I wanted to create that for others, a space where people can find comfort and connection.”

Sharing the story of your café and the emotional reason behind your dedication, San's eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. He listens with intense attention, his heart swelling with empathy and understanding.

"My mother passed away when I was young, and my father couldn't make enough money to support us, so we had to sell the place. Ever since then, I've dreamed of carrying on her legacy."

San's voice is filled with emotion as he responds, "I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. It must have been tough for you." He takes a deep breath, his own experiences coming to the surface. "Being an idol, I don't get to see my parents often, and I really miss them. But I keep going to make them proud. I know how you feel."

Smiling at San, you feel the connection between you deepen, and San finds himself experiencing an overwhelming amount of respect and admiration for your strength and determination. He can't help but feel a powerful emotional response to your story, and his heart jerks in his chest. He's touched by your vulnerability and the way you've persevered in the face of adversity. In this moment, the small but growing feelings he has for you become even more evident.

You and San share a meaningful gaze, both of your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The warmth of his smile provides a comforting connection between you, and in that moment, you can't help but feel a deep sense of belonging. Unbeknownst to you, the same feelings of belonging, understanding, and connection are mirrored in San's heart, as he finds himself drawn to you more deeply than he could have ever imagined.

“When we get out of here, you are invited to all of our concerts, free of charge.” San exclaims, his wide smile contagious.

“Then I can see Mingi body rolling with my own two eyes.”

“I'm going to feed you to the wolves.”

“We are here.”

The old lady's voice gently breaks your bickering with San, and you shift your gaze towards the source of her words. With a silent nod, she points to a small grotto-like cottage nestled deep within the woods. Covered in vibrant, velvety green moss, it looks like it has been plucked from a Pinterest post. The quaint little dwelling is simultaneously cosy and inviting, yet there is an eerie and somewhat unsettling quality to it that sends shivers down your spine. It seems as if ancient stories and secrets are hidden within its walls, waiting to be uncovered.

The forest that surrounds the cottage adds to the eerie charm. It is a mesmerising place, where the faint light of the setting sun dappled the landscape with warm, golden hues, casting long, enchanting shadows that seemed to dance with every passing breeze. It is beautiful, mysterious, and somewhat foreboding, a fusion of emotions that keeps you on edge.

You can't help but glance over at San, who shares your cautious expression. His eyes meet yours, and his warm smile attempts to soothe your nerves.

Following the old lady's lead, you cautiously approach the charming cottage, hesitating before the small door, which seems to be inviting you inside. The soft glow emanating from the windows adds to the enigmatic ambiance. It is a place that begged exploration, yet also invokes a feeling of hesitancy, as if stepping across the threshold would mean willingly delving into the unknown.

Taking a step closer to the cottage, San reaches out, gently grasping your hand and intertwining your fingers. There are no words exchanged, but his actions speak volumes. His warm touch conveys a silent reassurance, as if he is seeking solace and support just as much as he was offering it. His grip is a mixture of emotions, perhaps fueled by fear or the desire to protect you, and it sends your heart into a flurry of emotions. Your cheeks warm up, and butterflies flit through your stomach as you continue your journey towards the mysterious cottage, hand in hand with San.

Stepping through the small door of the cottage, you and San are greeted by a warm, cosy interior. The walls are adorned with wooden panels, giving the place a rustic, cabin-like feel. The ceiling is supported by wooden beams that add to the overall charm of the room. An inviting fireplace stands against one wall, its embers casting a comforting glow that bathes the space in a soft, flickering light.

In the heart of the room, there is a comfortable, worn-in sofa that beckoned for weary travellers like yourselves. Its deep red cushions invited you to sit down and rest, and you can’t help but admire how perfectly it fits into the rustic décor of the cottage. A wooden coffee table sits in front of the sofa, adorned with trinkets, dried herbs, and a collection of weathered books.

What captures your attention the most, however, is the large, cast-iron cauldron set in the centre of the room. It stands on a sturdy wooden tripod, and it appears to be empty, its black interior gleaming in the firelight. The cauldron is ancient, with ornate patterns etched along its rim, hinting at the history it holds within its iron confines. Taking in the warm and cosy ambiance of the cabin, you can't help but wonder about the mysteries it holds. The combination of old-world charm and the feeling of being in an entirely different realm is both alluring and unsettling. It is as though time has stood still in this hidden refuge, waiting for someone to uncover its secrets.

Taking in the cosy surroundings of the cottage, San's hand remains gently intertwined with yours. The warmth of his hand, combined with the comforting ambiance of the room, help ease the nervousness that has settled within you. The flickering firelight dances across the wooden walls, casting a soothing, amber glow on the two of you.

The old lady bustles around the room with a sense of familiarity, fetching cups and a teapot. Her movements are both methodical and graceful, as if she has been performing these tasks for many years. She has a kind, grandmotherly air about her, and her actions feel like a welcoming embrace.

With a warm smile, she pours the fragrant tea into delicate, porcelain cups, the gentle aroma wafting through the room, filling the air with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. The cups clink softly as she places them on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

You decide to take a seat on the plush, red sofa, and San sits down beside you. Your thighs touching, and the contact between you brought a sense of comfort and security. The cushions embraced you like a familiar friend, and the two of you found yourselves sitting close, as if the physical closeness mirrored the connection that was growing between you.

Sipping on the warm tea, you feel your nerves slowly begin to fade, replaced by a newfound sense of curiosity and wonder.

San and you sit in the cosy cabin, sipping tea and gathering your thoughts, the pressing question of how to return to your own world lingers heavily in the air. You know it is time to seek answers, and you exchange a glance with San before turning your attention to the old lady, a mix of curiosity and frustration in your voices.

"So, how do we get back to our world?" you inquire, your voice filled with a hint of desperation. "And what brought us here in the first place?"

San's voice is more direct as he joins the conversation. "Yeah, we understand we need to find our way out, but why were we brought here in the first place?"

The old lady, who had been bustling around the cabin to fetch cups and a teapot, pauses in her tasks. She takes a moment to consider your questions and then offers a thoughtful response, her voice laced with wisdom. "You were brought here by destiny, not by me. It appears that fate has a plan for both of you."

Your brows furrow with disbelief, and you shoot a sceptical glance at San. This answer hardly provides any solace, and San decides to voice your collective concerns.

"But you gave us those tassels. Weren't they what brought us here? So, it is your fault, and you need to help us get back."

The old lady lets out a weary sigh, understanding the frustration etched on both your faces. Her eyes betray a mix of amusement and sympathy as she speaks, "You are correct; the charms you were given had a role to play. However, they were more like keys, opening the door that destiny had laid before you."

You share another puzzled look with San, trying to grasp the cryptic nature of her explanation. San's patience wears thin, and he leans forward, his eyes locked onto hers. "Okay, so if we were brought here by destiny, how do we go back? What's the way out?"

The old lady leans back in her chair, reflecting on her next words.

“There is the existence of a rare and precious thread that can be woven into a tassel, allowing you to return to your world. It is the sister thread of the charm that brought the two of you here. However, the thread is a rarity, and it can only be made every six months. I know someone who has some, yet they live on the other side of the woods, it’ll take you the whole day for me to get it and return.”

San's frustration becomes more noticeable as he asks, "So, when can we get this thread? Tomorrow?"

The old lady shakes her head gently, a sense of regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I have visitors scheduled for tomorrow. It will be the day after tomorrow before I can fetch the thread for you."

You and San exchange a sigh of frustration, aware that your predicament has become increasingly complicated by the constraints of time.

"What if we get it? We can leave in the early morning and be back in the evening for you to make it." You suggest the plan with a glimmer of hope in your eyes, your voice brimming with determination.

The old lady observes you and San thoughtfully before offering her response, her expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "I suppose that could work. If you get it back to me before dark, I will make it for you."

"What's the catch?" San asks with a hint of scepticism.

The old lady reassures him, "There is no catch."

San's doubt lingers as he continues, "Don't play with me. You're a witch; there's always a catch."

She maintains her composure and responds, "I am not a witch."

Your eyes narrow in disbelief, and you press further, "Girl, you have a cauldron in the middle of your house. Be for real."

Your incredulity mirrors his as you try to make sense of the unusual surroundings and situation.

"You will find out the catch when you return with the thread," she calmly expresses. "This is the risk you have to take. Do you really wish to go home?" Her words are enigmatic, leaving you and San uncertain about what lies ahead on this unexpected journey.

"For now, though," she says, standing up from her chair, "get some rest. I'm sure you are tired from your travels."

You and San walk through the dimly lit corridor to the small room the old lady has prepared for you. It's a cosy, rustic space, with wooden walls and beams overhead, giving it a warm and inviting ambiance. The room is adorned with various knick-knacks, and the window reveals the occasional flicker of fireflies outside, casting fleeting shadows across the room.

Upon entering the room, you both find a comfortable, albeit not very spacious, resting place. There's only one bed, and the realisation causes a simultaneous blush to creep across both your faces. You feel a pang of guilt about the potential awkwardness of the situation, but before you can protest, San insists on taking the floor.

He quickly arranges a blanket he found in a nearby chest and lays it out on the wooden floor, attempting to make a makeshift bed for himself.

"I can't let you sleep on the floor," you object, worried about his comfort.

San chuckles, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns outside. "It's fine, really. I'll be comfortable."

You give in, though you still feel a bit uneasy about it. San's considerate nature is touching, but you can't help but wish for a more suitable solution.

After a moment, you ease yourself into the plush bed. The soft mattress seems to envelop you, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. The bed feels like a luxurious escape after the long, tiring journey you've had. As you lay there, the comfort and warmth of the bed begin to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

San finishes arranging his makeshift bed on the floor beside you and glances over with a warm smile, his gaze a mix of concern and reassurance. As you're beginning to drift into slumber, he whispers softly, "Goodnight," in the dimly lit room.

The only sounds are the gentle crackling of the fireplace and the faint rustling of leaves outside, making you feel cosy and safe as you slowly succumb to sleep, with San's presence nearby providing a sense of comfort.

The sun's warmth bathes the forest in a golden glow as you and San step onto the path marked on the map. The cool, crisp air fills your lungs, invigorating you for the journey ahead. The forest around you is enchanting, with tall trees and vibrant flora that create an ethereal ambiance. Birds sing melodiously, providing a sense of tranquillity despite the challenges that await you.

The path, as the old lady described, is well-worn and meanders through the woods, guiding you further into the heart of the forest. You follow the landmarks indicated on the map: a peculiarly shaped tree, a massive boulder with moss clinging to its sides, and a serene, babbling brook. Each one reassures you that you're on the right track.

As you continue your journey, you come across a part of the forest that is denser and more shadowed than before. The old lady's warnings echo in your mind as you quicken your pace, your grip on the map tightening. You feel a sense of determination to return safely and bring San with you to your world.

The terrain gradually changes, leading you uphill and into a section of the forest where the trees are thicker and their branches intertwine, creating a natural canopy. The hushed whispers of the leaves add to the eerie yet captivating atmosphere.

"The old lady mentioned a hidden grove up ahead," San says, studying the map intently. "She said we need to pass through it with caution."

You nod, sharing a look of understanding. The forest seems to hold its breath as you venture deeper. The sense of isolation is palpable, and you start to feel a growing unease. The cool, serene forest from before now feels more mysterious, almost foreboding.

The passage through the hidden grove is narrow and winding, creating an otherworldly setting. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dense foliage, casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. You can't help but marvel at the beauty around you, even as you keep an eye out for the thread's location.

Moving forward, the path begins to broaden once more, and the map indicates that you are nearing the area where the thread can be found. An excitement fills you both, and you exchange a hopeful glance. The anticipation of success fuels your determination to complete this mission.

The map guides you to a small clearing where, according to the old lady, the thread can be collected. But as you reach the area, you realise that there are multiple threads, each one shimmering in different colours, suspended in the air as if by magic. They sway gently, casting colourful reflections on the ground.

San looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Which one do we choose?"

The old lady's advice comes back to you: "The thread must be chosen carefully, as it will determine where you return to."

Your heart pounds as you weigh your options. The forest around you holds its breath, waiting for your decision. The threads await your touch, their ethereal beauty a stark contrast to the perilous journey that brought you here.

Yet the second you reach out for a thread, a woman appears in front of you, halting you from grabbing the threads.

The air becomes charged with tension as the mysterious lady appears, her presence sending shivers down your spine. She stands near the threads, her eyes filled with an otherworldly wisdom.

San instinctively moves closer to you, blocking you from her, and you can feel his apprehension as he interlocks your hands.

“You mustn't take without giving, child. There is a price.”

"What is the price?" San asks, his voice trembling slightly.

The lady's expression remains enigmatic as she speaks, "To claim the thread that calls to your soul, you must offer me your most precious memory. Memories are the threads of your life, woven together to create your identity, and the idea of parting with one is a heavy burden to bear. It is the only way to ensure you are taken to your rightful place. This is the balance of the forest's magic."

The lady's request for a precious memory leaves you both in a state of shock. Your mind races as you consider the magnitude of the request. Your memories are a part of your very essence, each one holding a special place in your heart. You look at San, his eyes mirroring your own feelings of uncertainty.

San squeezes your hand, his voice a whisper, "What do we do? We can't give up our memories."

The lady, her gaze unwavering, adds, "I can see the bond you share, your connection is strong. One memory will be strong enough for the both of you."

You share a wordless, meaningful glance with San.

With a deep breath, you nod in San's direction, your silent gesture conveying your readiness to move forward. San meets your eyes with a deep sense of gratitude, an unspoken acknowledgment of the sacrifice you're both about to make.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously, your trust in her growing by the minute.

"Now, think of the memory," she instructs gently.

The room falls into an eerie silence as you stand before the threads, tears still glistening in your eyes. You can feel San's supportive presence beside you, his concern unspoken but palpable.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously.

You close your eyes, delving deep into your thoughts to find the memory that holds the most significance. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as the memory surfaces, the emotions tied to it overwhelming.

You take a moment to collect yourself, focusing on the cherished memory, replaying it in your mind like a vivid film. It's a memory from your childhood, a day at the beach with your mother, building sandcastles and laughing. You remember the feeling of the warm sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves crashing, and the pure happiness in your mother’s eyes.

San watches you attentively, his concern evident in his gaze. He wants to rush to your side, to comfort you in this vulnerable moment, but he restrains himself.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the gentle yet piercing gaze of the lady. Her hand is extended toward the threads, waiting for your choice.

Your heart guides you toward a particular thread, one that stands out in a rich, dark purple shade. It shimmers with an otherworldly luminescence, a vibrant and mysterious aura that beckons to you. You reach for it, your hand trembling slightly as you grasp the thread, and it feels warm to the touch, like a connection to the past and the future.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart guides you to the thread, tugging at your emotions. It feels like the right choice, and you reach out to take it, a profound sense of purpose filling your heart.

With the thread secured in your hand, you turn to face San, a mixture of emotions passing between you. Gratitude, determination, and a hint of sadness are reflected in your eyes.

San smiles softly, offering you a reassuring nod, understanding the importance of the memory you've chosen to give up. He knows you've made this sacrifice willingly for both of your sakes.

You and San begin the journey back through the dense forest, the dimming light of the setting sun casts a warm, orange glow through the trees, a weighty silence hangs in the air. The precious thread safely tucked in your satchel serves as a constant reminder of the memory you've willingly sacrificed. Both of you understand the gravity of the situation.

After a while, San breaks the silence with a gentle voice, "If I can ask, what memory did you give up?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the memory in your heart. "It was a memory of a day at the beach with my mother, from my childhood. We were building sandcastles and laughing together. It was one of those moments of pure happiness that I never wanted to forget."

San looks at you with a mixture of understanding and sympathy. He realises that it was a cherished memory you held dear, and his respect for your sacrifice deepens.

San speaks again, his expression one of curiosity, " If it were me who had to choose, I wonder what memory I'd give."

You glance at him curiously, your satchel gently bumping against your side as you walk. "Have you thought about it before?"

San nods thoughtfully. "Not specifically, but... I guess a memory from my trainee days, one from the first time I saw our fans at a concert, or maybe our first win. Those moments are really special to me. But, it's a tough choice. I can't imagine giving up any memory willingly."

You both walk on in thoughtful silence, the significance of the thread and your memories weighing heavily on your minds.

"It's peculiar," San says, breaking the silence as he gazes over at you.

"What is?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I wasn't expecting you to pick the purple thread. In my opinion, you strike me as more of a pink person."

A laugh escapes your lips. "I look like a pink person?"

San nods, a playful smile forming on his lips. "Yes, but I guess appearances can be deceiving."

You chuckle at his observation. "I do like pink, to be honest. But something about that purple thread just felt right, like it was calling out to me."

"That's even more interesting," San utters, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"How so?"

"Purple is my favourite colour," San confesses, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. You turn to look at him, a hint of confusion on your face.

San gazes at you, a warm and affectionate expression in his eyes. "Maybe it is destiny that we found each other."

Flustered by San's words, a warm sensation spreads across your cheeks as you quickly hide your face behind your hand. Your heart flutters at the affection in his gaze, and you can't help but sneak a few more glances at him, stealing moments to admire his comforting presence. His eyes, filled with fondness, occasionally meet yours, and a faint, mischievous smile dances at the corners of his lips. San bites his lip, suppressing a grin as he watches you.

The journey back to the old lady's cottage takes you through the dappled forest as the sun begins its slow descent. You and San, side by side, share unspoken words of comfort. San's unwavering presence helps you navigate the intricate path that weaves through the woods, while the echoes of rustling leaves and bird songs in the distance create a serene ambiance.

Arriving at the cosy cottage, you find the old lady tidying up her small abode. She turns to the two of you with a knowing glance, causing your heart to race. An exchange of puzzled glances with San only deepens the sense of mystery.

Hastily, you present her with the valuable thread you secured. She accepts it, murmuring the word "peculiar."

You and San exchange yet another look, curiosity gnawing at your minds. Despite your burning questions, you both decide not to press her further at this moment.

With the thread in her possession, you turn to the old lady once more, your curiosity now focused on the catch you've been wondering about.

“What is the catch?” You question, desperate to know what it is that could be at risk.

“I need time to thread the tassel, then I will tell you the risk. For now, please eat.”

“How long will it take?” San inquires, also desperate to get home.

“An hour or so, it won't be long. Help yourself to food, it is still warm.”

Sitting at the old lady's humble wooden table, you and San eagerly devour the food set before you. It's a simple meal, but after the day's adventures, it tastes like a feast. You're both so engrossed in eating that your earlier question about the odd word "peculiar" remains on hold.

Taking another bite of the hearty stew, San leans in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, since we have some time to kill," he begins, "which performance is your absolute favourite?"

You swallow your food, a burst of excitement rushing through you as you recall the various stunning performances you've seen, yet you can't help but to laugh. San’s dedication to find out your favourite parts about his group is endearing as well as funny.

"Well, there are so many, but if I had to choose, I’d probably say Take Me Home."

San grins widely, his eyes lighting up. "Really?." He leans closer, like an excited child, "is it because of my dance solo?"

You laugh at his words and finish another bite and ponder for a moment. "It is really cool. The way you used the mirrors is really cool to me also."

“Thank you for supporting us,” San says quietly, his smile gentle as he looks down at his food.

“Now San.” you say loudly, catching his attention. Pointing your spoon at him, you return the question, “what is your favourite performance to do?”

The two of you continue to chat and savour your meal, the tension lifting up the more you get engrossed in each other's company. Sharing your favourite Ateez moments and music creates a sense of connection which makes the wait for the old lady to finish the tassel more bearable.

You and San sit at the old lady's table, your empty bowls pushed aside, you're engaged in an animated conversation. The room is filled with laughter and shared stories, a comfortable warmth filling the air. You've found that you share many common interests and hobbies beyond just K-pop and Ateez, forging a deeper connection as you discuss your favourite books, movies, and travel destinations. It feels like you've known each other for ages.

The moments pass quickly as you both become lost in the flow of conversation, sharing tales of your personal experiences and dreams. Your voices resonate with passion and excitement as you talk about your aspirations, and you can't help but admire the way San's eyes light up when he talks about his music and performances.

Suddenly, the room's door creaks open, and the old lady enters, holding the completed tassel in her hand. The stunning charm catches your breath in your throat, a masterpiece of intricate weaving and vibrant colours. The thread glistens in the soft light of the room, and it looks as if it carries the power to transport you back to your world. Its craftsmanship and beauty are beyond anything you've ever seen before.

San and you both fall silent as you gaze in awe at the tassel, momentarily speechless. The old lady smiles as she approaches the table, placing the tassel gently in the centre. "Here it is, the thread charm that will take you home," she says, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You and San exchange a look, both of you sharing a sense of wonder and gratitude for this woman who has helped you.

Suddenly, San's voice pierces the room, grabbing your attention. "Where is the other?" he inquires, his tone filled with urgency.

You and San exchange anxious glances, sensing that something is amiss. The old lady takes a deep, sorrowful breath, her expression growing more serious. "That is the catch," she confesses, her voice heavy with regret. "Only one of you may return home."

San's anger flares, his face flushing with frustration as he runs his trembling hands through his dishevelled hair. You take a step back, your heart sinking with disbelief, and a wave of despair washes over you.

The old lady calmly elaborates, "There is only enough thread to create one tassel. I can retrieve the thread again in six months when it becomes available. But for now, a difficult decision must be made—one must return home, while the other must stay."

The weight of the revelation hangs heavily in the air, the room filled with tension as you and San grapple with the realisation that a choice must be made.

“I will leave it here,” she utters, carefully placing the tassel on the wooden table, “you must sleep with it beneath your pillow, then when you fall asleep, you shall awake in your world.”

The old lady gazes at the two of you, and for the first time in her long life, a pang of guilt washes over her. Letting out a deep sigh, she retreats to the room she emerged from, her expression marked by the gravity of the situation.

You watch as the old lady retreats to the other room, you find a chair near the table and take a seat, deep in thought. San, on the other hand, begins to pace around the room, his frustration evident in his movements. He repeatedly runs his hands through his hair, his expression conflicted and troubled.

After several minutes of silence, you both turn to face each other simultaneously. In unison, you utter the same words, "You take it."

"No, you take it!" You exclaim firmly, determination shining in your eyes.

San responds, equally resolute, "You saved my life, you take it!"

"I saved your life so you can go home," you counter, your voice unwavering.

San's gaze softens as he insists, "You've been here for months, you take it. I want you to go home."

You shake your head, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "You have an important life ahead of you, San. Go home, and I'll meet you there in six months."

San mutters your name, his heart heavy, “you have to run the cafe, you can't wait six months.”

“San. This is what my mother would have wanted… there are more people who need you than people who need me.”

“What if I need you?” San exclaims, tears coming to his eyes.

“San…”

“I can’t leave you here.”

"San," you say firmly, standing up. You grab the tassel and then take his hand, gently pulling him towards the sofa. He follows, looking into your eyes, silently pleading.

Gently, you place the tassel in his hand and he looks up at you, tears threatening to fall as he looks at your face.

Taking a deep breath, you begin speaking, your voice gentle and filled with emotion, "San, I know you want me to go home, but you need to understand something. Your world needs you. Your family, your friends, and your fans all rely on you. You have dreams to fulfil, music to create, and a life to live. You have a purpose, and it's vital to so many people."

You reach out and place your hand on his, holding it with a reassuring grip. "I've learned so much from you during our time here, and I'm grateful for every moment. But I can't take away your chance to return to your world, to be with your loved ones. I'll wait for my turn, and when the time comes, I'll make it home."

San's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he absorbs your words. You continue, your voice steady, "We'll see each other again in six months, and by then, we'll both be where we're meant to be. I believe in you, San. It's time for you to go back and fulfil your destiny."

San listens intently, his eyes fixed on yours as your voice conveys your deep concern and affection.

“I just…” he begins, his voice cracking, yet you stop him.

“It’s okay. Let's go to bed.”

Starting to make your way toward the bedroom, the knowledge that San will disappear by morning brings tears to your eyes. The weight of impending separation presses on your chest, and it's hard to hold back the emotions welling up within you.

Before you can enter the room, San's strong yet gentle hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist with a firm but tender grip. He pulls you toward him, and suddenly, you find yourself enveloped in his arms. The world around you seems to fade into the background as the two of you share a moment.

The hug is a powerful mixture of emotions. San's heart beats rapidly against your chest, its rhythm a reflection of the anxiety and sorrow he feels about the upcoming separation. His tears, warm and wet, seep into the fabric of your clothing as he buries his face in your shoulder, seeking comfort and solace in your presence.

The comforting warmth of his body contrasts sharply with the chill in the room, creating an immediate sense of intimacy and solace. It's as if his body heat radiates into your very soul, offering a shelter from the storm of emotions raging inside both of you.

The subtle scent of him mingles with the earthy, forest fragrance that has clung to your clothes from your time in this peculiar place. It's a blend of familiar and foreign, marking this moment as uniquely special.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes shaky breaths, his body trembling slightly with the weight of the impending parting. Each inhale and exhale shows the unspoken emotions that surge between you.

In this shared embrace, the world beyond the two of you fades away. Tears are a silent language, and your tears mix with his. This hug carries the bittersweet weight of the parting, a physical manifestation of the depth of your connection, the pain of separation, and the fervent hope of reuniting in the future. It seems almost insane to you the fact that you met less than three days ago. The person in front of you feels like a person you have known your entire life.

"I'm sorry," San mumbles into your neck, his words laced with regret, his warm breath causing shivers to run down your spine.

Your hand instinctively moves up to pat his head, fingers tangling softly in his hair as you try to provide some comfort. "It's okay, Sannie," you murmur, your voice gentle and reassuring.

With a mixture of emotions, you watch as San takes the bed in the spare room and places the tassel under the pillow. He glances back at you, standing in the door frame, and you offer him a warm smile, your eyes filled with understanding.

"I know what you're thinking," you say gently, a knowing look in your eyes, “I’m not sleeping tonight, don’t think about moving it.” San furrows his eyebrows in confusion, silently wondering how you've seen through him so clearly.

Without hesitation, San stands up and turns to face you, his eyes locked onto yours with intensity. It's clear that he has something important on his mind. His hands move gently to cup your face, his warm touch both comforting and electrifying. He wipes away the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes, a tender expression on his face as he looks deep into your soul.

In a slow, smooth movement, San rests his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes naturally close, giving in to the moment as the world around you seems to disappear.

“I promise to find you.” San whispers with his eyes closed and his promise lingers in the air, playing with your heart strings.

The two of you stay in this intimate position for a while, the only thing that exists being the warmth you share and the unspoken connection between you.

It's almost surreal to you that you've found yourself in this situation, not just with anyone, but with Choi San himself. The circumstances that led to this moment were beyond imagination, and yet, there's a profound sense of gratitude in your heart that it was him who ended up here with you. The closeness you feel in this moment is something you never expected to experience in your life, and it's a bittersweet reminder of the depth of your connection, the vagaries of fate, and the promise of a future reunion.

With a heavy heart, you bid San a quiet goodnight as you leave his room, pulling the door closed gently behind you. It's a slow, painful process, knowing that this may be the last time you'll see him for a while. You turn away from the door and walk down the dimly lit hallway, the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

Reaching a secluded corner of the hallway, you can no longer hold back the emotions that have been building up. Collapsing to the floor, you succumb to the overwhelming grief that has been gnawing at you. Silent sobs wrack your body, and you clutch your chest, trying to muffle the sounds of your heartache. You bite into the flesh of your hand to stifle the cries that threaten to escape, tears streaming down your face.

Each tear that falls feels like another piece of your heart breaking, and you struggle to come to terms with the harsh reality of having to stay here for longer when all you yearn for is to be home. It's a pain that cuts deep, one that only time can heal. But for now, all you can do is let the tears flow, allowing the raw and unfiltered emotions to have their moment.

Whilst you cry, the exhaustion from the day's events and emotional turmoil begins to take its toll on your body. The sobs gradually subside, replaced by a deep sense of weariness. Your eyelids become heavy, and your limbs feel like lead.

In the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself unable to hold back the fatigue any longer. Your body craves rest and respite from the emotional rollercoaster that has consumed your day.

You slump down against the cold, hard floor, your back resting against the wall. Tears still glisten on your cheeks as you close your eyes. With each ragged breath, your eyelids grow heavier, and a sense of drowsiness envelops you.

The world outside the hallway begins to blur, and the soft hum of the forest fades into the background. In your state of emotional exhaustion, you drift into a fitful slumber, the hallway serving as a makeshift bed. The tears have left their mark on your face, but your body is finally granted a moment of respite.

The night had been an unending cycle of sorrow and confusion, leaving you emotionally drained.

The first rays of dawn filter through the window, causing you to stir from your slumber on the hard hallway floor. Your memories rush back with brutal clarity, a sense of urgency and panic gripping your heart.

With trembling legs, you push yourself to your feet, the weariness still clinging to you. The echoes of the hug, the warmth of his presence, and the desperation to see him again fueled your determination.

Stumbling, you made your way to the room where San had rested. Each step feels like a lifetime, the anticipation of what you might discover palpable in your racing heart. You yearned to see him, but also hope that he has returned home.

The door creaks open and your heart sinks at the sight that greets you. The room is in disarray, pillows strewn, and sheets rumpled, signs that someone had indeed slept there. But it was devoid of San, leaving an aching void where his presence once dwelled.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision as you came to terms with the empty room.

To your left, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to find the old lady, her eyes downcast and guilt etches across her features. She knew, and the dread that had been building inside you only deepened.

With a quavering voice, you asked, "Where is he? Where's San?"

The old lady sighed heavily, her eyes meeting yours, bearing the weight of a heavy truth. The anticipation of her response filled the air like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

“He made it back safely.”

You turn back to the room, feeling relieved and torn at the same time.

“I will help you,” the old lady says gently, “I have never felt like this before, but your connection stirred something deep in me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's a horse outside for you, it'll take you directly to your palace. Go there and in six months I will bring you the tassel. I give you my word.”

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say, your thoughts too occupied with San.

What if he is in the wrong world? What if he is stuck in limbo? What if he doesn't remember anything from this world?

Will you ever see each other again…?

—

San gradually becomes aware of his surroundings, a thick fog of grogginess enveloping his senses. The faint, continuous beep of a machine and hushed murmurs echo in the background. As his eyes open, the harsh hospital lighting makes him squint. The sterile, clinical setting becomes apparent, with white walls and the metallic gleam of medical equipment creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

His vision adjusts, revealing a monitor to his right, its rhythmic beeping punctuating the sterile air. An intravenous line is connected to his arm, administering an unknown liquid into his veins. The scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, intensifying the disconcerting feeling of being in an unfamiliar place.

His head pounds with a relentless ache, and confusion clouds his thoughts. Why is he here? What happened to lead him to this hospital bed? The hunger in his stomach intensifies, adding to the growing sense of disorientation.

In an attempt to make sense of the situation, he pushes himself to sit up. The movement catches the attention of someone in the room—a figure in the corner. The familiar voice of his manager pierces through the ambient sounds, a mix of concern and relief evident.

"San, are you okay?"

San rubs his temples, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The events leading to this hospital room elude him, and he struggles to piece together the fragments of memory. Disoriented and perplexed, he turns to his manager, a multitude of questions forming on his lips.

“What happened?” His voice is hoarse as he speaks, and he can feel from his breath that he hasn't brushed his teeth in a day or two.

“You don't remember?” his manager inquires, worried about San’s wellbeing, he continues upon seeing San’s nod, “you were in practice and suddenly fainted, you've been asleep for almost three days. We thought you were in a coma.”

The second his manager recounts the details of being in a coma, San's mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories flooding back. Flashes of the alternate world, the old lady, and most prominently, you, fill his consciousness. The vivid experiences he shared with you seem surreal, yet the emotions are still fresh, and an urgent restlessness takes hold of him. If he was in a coma for three days, you would be in a coma for almost three months.

Ignoring his manager's pleas for rest, San becomes increasingly agitated. The desire to find you, to confirm the reality of the shared adventure, fuels his determination. He can't stay confined; he needs to know if it was all real or just a vivid dream.

With a burst of energy, San attempts to swing his legs off the side of the bed, dislodging the wires and monitors attached to him. His manager rushes to restrain him, urging him to stay put and recover, but San's sense of urgency overrides any rational thinking.

"No, I need to find them!" San exclaims, desperation in his voice as he struggles against his manager's firm grip.

Ignoring the protests, San manages to free himself from the medical paraphernalia. Disentangling from the monitors and IV lines, he bolts out of the room, driven by an unrelenting determination to find you. His legs are wobbling as he walks, but he manages to regain his composure as he walks quickly around the corridors.

The hospital stretches out before him, a maze of unfamiliar hallways and doors. Panic sets in as he realises he has no idea where he is or where to begin. The sterile environment amplifies his disorientation, and every passing moment without a clue about your whereabouts intensifies his anxiety.

Frantically, he searches for a reception area, hoping for guidance. The urgency of the situation pushes him forward, and despite the lingering weakness, San charges through the hospital corridors, driven by an unshakable determination to find you, no matter the cost.

In a frenzy, San navigates through the hospital corridors until he finally stumbles upon the reception area. The receptionist, a weary woman surrounded by stacks of paperwork, looks up with a half-hearted smile as San approaches, still clad in his hospital gown.

"Excuse me," San gasps, breathless from both the urgency of his quest and his hurried journey through the hospital. "I need to know if someone is here.”

Slowly, the receptionist's eyes narrow, “what is their name?”

San replies with your name and the receptionist furrows her brow, perplexed by the urgency in San's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I can't disclose information about patients without proper authorization," she explains, adhering to hospital protocol.

Desperation flickers across San's face as he pleads, "Please, it's important. I need to know if she's here. Is there anyone with that name in a coma for almost three months?"

The receptionist hesitates, studying San for a moment. "How do you know this person?" she inquires, her curiosity piqued.

San, quick on his feet, replies with urgency, "They are a really close friend. We lost touch, and I just found out about their condition. Please, I need to know if they are okay."

The receptionist sighs, her empathetic instincts prevailing over protocol. She lowers her voice and says, "Wait here."

San anxiously watches as the receptionist scans through her files. The seconds feel like an eternity, and his heart pounds with anticipation. Finally, her eyes light up, and she raises her eyebrows, a glimmer of surprise crossing her features.

"Yes, there is someone by that name…” she reveals. "Room 302. But you need to understand, only family members are usually allowed in."

San's gratitude is immense as he thanks the receptionist before darting off toward Room 302, his pace almost a sprint. The journey through the sterile hospital environment seems to stretch endlessly, but San's determination propels him forward. Room 302 holds the promise of answers, and he's willing to face whatever awaits behind that door.

San stands outside Room 302, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. The weight of the unknown presses on him, and he takes a moment to steel himself before gently pushing open the door.

The door swings open and a hush falls over the room. San's eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him.

There you are, lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires. Your hair, longer than he remembers, cascades gently over the pillow, is a sign of the time you've spent in a seemingly endless slumber.

San's heart clenches at the sight of the wires connected to you, a lifeline that has kept you tethered to this world. The room, bathed in the soft glow of monitors, feels both sterile and charged with an emotional intensity that hangs in the air.

Approaching the bed, San's gaze lingers on your peaceful face, now adorned with the marks of time passed. Tears cascade down your closed eyes, and San's heart aches for the pain you have endured in your unconscious state. It's a heartbreaking revelation, but at the same time, there's a profound beauty in the connection they share, transcending the boundaries of worlds.

With a shaky deep breath, San takes a seat in the chair beside your bed. The chair creaks softly under his weight as he reaches out, his trembling fingers gently interlocking with yours. He can feel the warmth of your hand, a tangible connection that defies the barriers of the physical and the metaphysical.

"Hey," San whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's me. I made it back safely." He pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you so much for everything."

San's words hang in the air, a heartfelt acknowledgment of the intertwined fate that brought them together across dimensions. The room, filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines and the soft hum of the hospital, bears witness to a moment that transcends the ordinary—a reunion between two souls bound by an extraordinary connection.

—

“What's with this marker on your calendar?” Wooyoung questions as he walks into San’s room.

San turns away from his desk to see what Wooyoung is pointing at. The mark, indicating six months from the time he awoke, brings a gentle smile to San's face. "Just something important," he replies before redirecting his attention back to the game on his desk.

“Okay… are you okay?” Wooyoung questions, taking a seat on San’s bed.

“Yeah, why?” San responds.

“You've been acting weird ever since you woke up from that coma.”

San turns around again, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know, you've been all bittersweet, acting as if you’re going through a breakup. And all these trips to the hospital?”

San scoffs at the analysis before resuming his game. The characters on the screen move around, engaging in virtual battles.

“I’m serious,” Wooyoung insists, “you've been weird.”

“Whatever you say.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, a light chuckle escaping him. “We leave in ten minutes, finish your game quickly.”

—

The dance studio is filled with the rhythmic beat of the music, echoing off the mirrored walls. A palpable energy buzzes in the air as the members practise their choreography for the upcoming comeback. San, adorned in his dance attire, moves with precision and passion, putting his heart into every step.

The past three months have been a whirlwind for the group, with preparations for the comeback taking centre stage. The demanding schedule has left little time for personal matters, and for San, that means infrequent visits to the hospital. The initial relief he felt upon waking up from his own coma has been replaced with the stress of managing a packed agenda.

During those initial two weeks, he diligently visited you every day. Flowers, particularly pink ones, became a weekly tradition, a small gesture to brighten the sterile environment of the hospital room. However, as the comeback drew nearer, the relentless cycle of recordings, dance practices, and promotional activities consumed his time.

Today, the dance practice is particularly gruelling. San can't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that it has been weeks since his last visit to you. He worries about how you might perceive his absence, fearing that you'll wake up and think he didn't wait for you, or worse, that you'll wake up and be gone.

Whilst the music plays and the members execute each move with precision, San's mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Every leap, every spin, is a dance of dedication to the group and a silent plea for understanding from you. He longs for the moment when he can return to your side, bringing not only flowers but the warmth of his presence and the assurance that he hasn't forgotten the promise he made.

The dance studio pulses with energy as ATEEZ members tirelessly rehearse their choreography for the upcoming comeback. The atmosphere, however, is tense, and a sense of impatience permeates the room as San repeatedly messes up his steps.

For the fourth time, San's foot collides with Mingi's, disrupting the flow of the routine. Frustration bubbles within the group.

Hongjoong's voice cuts through the air, demanding attention. "San, what has gotten into you? Pay attention." His leader's authority echoes, making it clear that patience is wearing thin.

San mumbles a quick apology, his eyes cast downward. Yet, as the group restarts, it's evident that his mind is elsewhere. Another misstep follows, and a collective groan emanates from the group.

Seongwha, although fatigued and annoyed, can't help but express concern for his younger friend. "What's going on? Your mind is somewhere else."

Hongjoong's stern tone is layered with genuine worry as he addresses San. "You've been all over the place since you fainted. It's been more than six months; you need to straighten up." The leader's frustration is palpable, but there's an underlying tone of care. The members, despite their annoyance, share a collective sentiment of concern for San's well-being.

“It hasn’t been six months,” San grumbles under his breath, also frustrated at himself. San of all people would know if it has been six months.

"It has," Wooyoung exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as he gazes at San. "I thought you'd know, it's on your calendar."

San's eyes narrow in disbelief as he retrieves his phone from his pocket, turning it on to check the date. Widening, his eyes register the reality that it has been exactly six months and four days since he emerged from his coma.

"Fuck," San exclaims, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Running his hand through his hair, he's consumed by a sudden rush of guilt. How could he lose track of time? You must have already been awake for more than three days by now.

"I need to go," San mutters under his breath.

"What did you say?" Yunho questions, not catching his soft mutter.

"I need to go. Now," San asserts, this time with more volume. He rushes to his coat and bag, desperately shoving his belongings into it. Meanwhile, his groupmates stare at him with a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"San, what are you doing?" Yeosang inquires, walking up to the man frantically preparing to leave.

"I need to go somewhere."

"San, you can't just leave; we have to practice," Jongho attempts to reason, but his words seem to bounce right off San.

"Choi San," Hongjoong's voice booms through the studio, causing San to momentarily halt his actions. Turning around, San faces Hongjoong, who wears a deeply furrowed brow, an angry expression etched into his features.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong's voice drips with exasperation as he takes in the dishevelled appearance of the younger male.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry. But there’s something I need to do, and if I don’t, I feel like I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life,” San exclaims, his voice hoarse, tears welling up in his eyes.

Hongjoong's gaze softens upon seeing San’s vulnerable state. The six others standing around him try to make sense of the situation, but the dots just don’t add up.

“San,”

“I’m sorry, really, I’m so sorry.”

“San,” Hongjoong booms, though not unkindly, his voice carrying a sense of understanding.

“How long will it take?”

“Just today, then I will put all my time and all my effort into this comeback. Just like I always do. I just need today.”

All around him, his friends are confused yet feel their hearts weigh heavily as they witness the desperate state San is in. Never have they seen him like this before, and it feels strange for San to be in such a state.

“Go. But be back tomorrow,” Hongjoong says gently.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise to make it up to you. All of you,” San says before bolting out of the room, headed straight for the hospital. He just hopes that he can make it there before visiting times end.

Hongjoong isn’t sure why he allowed San to go, knowing how tight time is right now due to the comeback being in a few weeks. Something in San’s eyes spoke to him, as if destiny were compelling him to go.

San dashes through the bustling streets, weaving through the crowd like a determined arrow cutting through the air. His long strides cover the familiar path to the hospital, the urgency in his heart making the surroundings blur. The city hums with life, but for San, everything else fades into the background.

As he moves, apologies spill from his lips like rapid-fire as he bumps into people on the way. He can't afford to slow down, can't spare a moment for anything but reaching his destination. The KQ building looms behind him, a distant memory as he sprints toward the hospital.

Breath heaving, he bursts through the hospital entrance with a singular purpose. The reception area blurs by as he skips any formality, not bothering to check in. His entire focus is on reaching your room, his heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his hurried steps.

The sterile, white hallways echo with the familiar sounds of a hospital; the soft footsteps of medical professionals, the distant chatter of visitors, and the rhythmic beeping of machines. San barrels forward, expertly navigating the maze-like corridors, fueled by a mix of anxiety and determination.

Arriving at the elevator, he jabs at the button for your floor, impatience etched across his face. The doors slide open, and he steps in, the confined space providing a brief respite. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gazes at the floor numbers lighting up as he ascends.

The elevator doors part once more, revealing the hallway that leads to your room. San's pulse quickens as he sprints toward the familiar door. His mind races with worry, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. What will he find when he enters? The anticipation builds with every step, and as he reaches your room, he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever awaits on the other side.

San gingerly turns the doorknob, a mixture of hope and dread swelling within him. The door creaks open, revealing the room where you should be resting. His eyes scan the space, desperately seeking any sign of your presence.

Stepping inside, the reality of the situation crashes over him. Your bed is there, neatly made, but the first thing he notices is the fact that it is empty.

Panic rises in San's chest, and he rushes to your bedside. The room is silent, save for the hum of medical equipment, amplifying the void left by your absence.

San's breath catches in his throat as he clings to the remnants of hope. He gazes around the room, half-expecting you to materialise before him. The silence in the air is deafening, a stark contrast to the lively conversations he had envisioned sharing with you once you woke.

His eyes fall on the wilted pink tulips, a cruel reminder of the hopeful gestures he made in anticipation of your awakening. The vibrant hues have dulled, mirroring the fading optimism in San's heart. San's mind swirls with a whirlwind of thoughts. Guilt creeps in, taunting him with the possibility that he failed you somehow.

He replays every missed opportunity, each day he prioritised work over being by your side. The weight of his choices bears down on him, and a profound sadness envelopes him. Doubt consumes him, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's destined to be haunted by regret.

Desperation tightens its grip on San as he moves to the window, hoping for a glimpse of you in the hospital courtyard or perhaps walking down the hallway.

The pink tulips in his hands serve as an emblem of his optimism, now crushed beneath the weight of reality. He recalls the anticipation that accompanied each visit, the flowers symbolising his unwavering belief in your eventual awakening. Now, their wilting petals tell a different story, echoing the fading flame of hope in his heart.

San clutches the tulips tighter, a silent plea for forgiveness to a presence that's no longer there. The room seems colder now, devoid of the warmth he associated with your presence.

The sounds of the hospital, distant footsteps and hushed conversations, serve as an eerie backdrop to San's internal monologue. Doubt creeps in, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's fated to be haunted by the spectre of regret.

San's fingers trace patterns on the wilted tulips, his thoughts spiralling into a vortex of introspection. He replays every missed opportunity, each instance where he chose to chase fleeting success over cherishing the moments with you. The room feels smaller, closing in on him as the burden of his choices becomes increasingly unbearable.

Shoulders slumped, San sinks to the floor, still clinging to the flowers. The weight of his heartache is unbearable, each beat echoing a symphony of sorrow. In the quiet room, time becomes elastic, stretching and contracting as he grapples with the reality that he might have lost you forever.

The shadows lengthen as San remains on the floor, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. The hospital room, once a space of anticipation and hope, is now a shrine to what could have been. In the hushed stillness, he wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script that led to this heart-wrenching moment.

“San?”

San's world comes to a screeching halt, the single utterance of his name from behind him slices through the heavy silence like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, he remains frozen, caught between the realms of disbelief and desperate hope. The air hangs thick with anticipation as he dares not turn around, fearing that acknowledging the voice will only amplify the crushing weight of his recent realisation.

A gentle touch graces his shoulder, a tender reassurance that pierces through the numbness that has settled over him. It's a touch so delicate, yet laden with a gravity that sends shivers down his spine. Still reluctant to face the truth, he keeps his gaze fixed on the emptiness before him, afraid to let hope blossom only to be crushed again.

When he finally musters the courage to turn around, the world tilts on its axis. There you stand, a vision of ethereal beauty in your hospital gown, tears mirroring his own streaming down your face. In that moment, the lines between reality and dreams blur, and San feels as if he's been transported to a realm where miracles are not only possible but tangible.

Time seems to suspend as San takes in the sight of you; the person he thought he had lost. Every detail becomes etched into his memory; the vulnerability in your eyes, the traces of weariness on your face, and the overwhelming emotion that courses through the room. It's a tableau of raw, unfiltered emotion that threatens to overwhelm both of you.

A choked sob escapes San's lips as he surges forward, a mixture of disbelief and euphoria propelling himself towards you and into a bone crushing embrace. The world narrows down to the two of you, a cosmic collision of souls who refuse to be separated. The hospital room transforms into a sanctuary where the boundaries of time and space blur, leaving only the profound connection shared between you and San.

Your tears mingle with his, forming a symphony of emotions that speaks more eloquently than words ever could. In that embrace, San feels a weight lifted off his shoulders, a burden he carried for what felt like an eternity. It's a cathartic release, a culmination of months of longing and despair now metamorphosing into a resurgence of joy.

Whilst you hold each other, the room becomes a vessel for shared emotions, an intimate space where the echoes of heartache dissipate, replaced by the melodies of reunion. San pulls away from the embrace to cradle your face in his large hands as he presses his forehead against yours, a silent promise to savour this moment, to etch it into the very fabric of his being. Your body stays pressed against his, the closeness you have been missing and dreaming of since the moment he left

For San, it's not just a reunion; it's a reawakening. The tears that had threatened to drown him now become droplets of newfound happiness. The gravity of your presence grounds him, dispelling the shadows that had cast their spell over his soul.

In the space of the hospital room, San and you find solace in the simple truth that you are together once more. Tears continue to fall, now a harmonious blend of joy and relief.

Amid the quiet murmur of the hospital room, San's eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and profound emotion as he processes your revelation. The weight of his longing, the months spent in anticipation and despair, culminate in a single question that escapes his lips, laden with an earnestness that echoes through the room.

"You... woke up today?" he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief yet brimming with uncontainable joy. As you nod in confirmation, a wave of realisation washes over him, and he takes a moment to absorb the enormity of the moment.

“You remembered?” You mutter softly, the words barely reaching San’s ears.

"I would've waited forever for you," he confesses, his eyes locked onto yours, sincerity echoing in every word. The depth of his commitment, the unwavering dedication to your well-being, resonates in the air, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of his unwavering devotion.

You proceed to share the intricacies of your journey; the delayed arrival of the old lady, the challenges she faced on her way to you, and the serendipity that brought you back to consciousness today. The room transforms into a cocoon of shared stories, weaving a tapestry of experiences that led to this miraculous reunion.

A playful smile tugs at San's lips as he contemplates the unfolding narrative. "Today," he muses, "feels like a chapter from a book written by destiny."

The atmosphere takes a lighthearted turn as he shifts gears, eyes alight with mischievous curiosity. "So," he starts, "now that you're back and I've got you here, how about we celebrate this occasion with a date?"

Your heart skips a beat at the proposition, and a smile graces your lips. "A date?" you echo, genuine surprise reflected in your eyes.

San nods, his expression earnest. "Yes, a date. You saved my life; the least I can do is take you out and make it up to you."

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you ponder his proposal. "Well," you tease, "if you get me Mingi's autograph, we might just have a deal."

San feigns exasperation, mockingly clutching his heart. "I hate you," he declares with a theatrical sigh.

A laugh escapes your lips, and you playfully retort, "No, you don't."

The laughter continues, and the room becomes a sanctuary of shared laughter and affection. The weight of the past months fades into the background, replaced by the promise of new beginnings and the joy of being together once more. In this intimate exchange, the echoes of a love that transcended time resonate, casting aside the shadows that had lingered for far too long.

The air becomes charged with anticipation as San looks into your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

A warm feeling of affirmation fills your chest, and you respond with a smile, "I’ve only waited sox months." The atmosphere is tinged with a mixture of excitement and a sense of inevitability, as if this moment had been woven into the fabric of destiny.

San leans in, his eyes fluttering closed as he gently presses his lips against yours. It's a sweet, tender kiss that feels like the universe aligning, a culmination of shared experiences, laughter, and the trials you faced together. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

There's a soft, playful energy to the kiss, like a dance between your lips, a silent celebration of the connection that brought you back together. San's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining as if to anchor this moment in time.

The kiss lingers and it's not just a meeting of lips; it's a merging of hearts and souls. When you finally part, there's a shared look that speaks volumes, an unspoken understanding that this connection goes beyond the magical threads that brought you here. It's a kiss that feels like destiny, a promise of more shared moments, and a celebration of a love that transcends the mystical realms you've traversed together.

Perhaps it was destiny after all.

[imaginesmai]

I missed you - Azriel

This is smut, set in the baker!reader universe. If you want a timeline, it happens before Taken for reasons you'll find out at the end of this fic. You can read it without the previous parts, don't worry.

Plot: Azriel has been away for a month and comes back to a busy, cozy morning.

Warnings: porn with a tinny bitty plot, barely there.

“I missed you”

Even though his voice sounded far away, you knew Azriel was right behind you, his chest pressed tightly against your back. You felt the echoes of his question right where his throat touched your shoulder and neck. Where, in your humble opinion, he belonged.

He had been away for a little longer than a month, and it had been the longer you had been apart. He had arrived to your shared home two days ago, and you had only left the bed for the bare minimum necessary.

You doubted you’d be able to leave the bed in another two days.

“Me too” you answered back, your voice groggy with sleep.

“Thought about you every single day” his lips, swollen from your previous activities, followed the path of your pulse point. “Every hour”

You hummed for an answer, not actually registering his words. Only the feeling of his body curved around you. You were both naked, had been since he came back, but you weren’t ready to face the rest of the world yet.

And Azriel wasn’t either. The sheets moved around you as he pressed himself closer, tighter, and you noticed his intention before he was finished. The hand that was rubbing lazy circles over your belly lowered, his pinky finger adding a soft pressure over your clit.

You barely contained your moan when he pushed you farther against him, his cock slipping between your legs and rubbing itself where you needed him. You had discovered long ago the truth behind the wingspan theory, and blissfully, you cherished it again. Azriel lowered his hand until he could touch himself and tease you at the same time.

“Move” you demanded, trying to roll you hips. All sleep left you as his arousal hit your senses, as you felt him harden between your legs.

“So demanding. Maybe I don’t want to”

His lips curved against your neck, and you could have fallen right above the edge when his canines grazed your skin. Something about the primal need of being locked together after a month away made your knees weak.

The tip of his cock retreated far enough to press itself against your entrance, only to avoid it once more. The hand that wasn’t holding you against him appeared under your neck, and wrapped his fingers across your throat. Big enough to cover it whole, you breath shuttered when he squeezed.

“Thought about you naked and moaning under me too many times” Azriel confessed, barely moving. The soft friction wasn’t enough but felt like Starfall and fireworks together. “I whished it was you who squeezed my cock dry and not my hand”

“I already did” you reminded him. And you had – repeatedly since he came back. “I’ll have your cum leaking for a while”

“Love that”

His voice was deeper, broken out by a moan. There were few things that turned him on more that knowing he was in you. That his cum tainted your underwear when you left the room, that when not even an hour later he would have a finger inside, his cum had been there.

You had trouble following the pointless conversation when that certain finger entered you. The roughness of his scars had been a sensitive topic at the beginning of your relationship, but soon you had discovered that not many things felt as good as them.

Azriel pressed it to the hilt, applying pressure against your walls.

“Did you touch yourself? While I was gone?” he whispered, one of his shadows kissing your left nipple.

“Thought about me sitting on your cock while you worked, and then you fucking me on your work table” his hand almost cut your air supply, but you managed to continue. “Played with myself right there, and – “

Azriel squeezed your throat hard enough to leave bruises, but you didn’t mind as the finger retreated as his cock replaced it. Each time you took him felt like the first time, no matter how many had come before that one. He pushed it in two thrusts, that left his pubic hair right at your entrance.

Your face was harshly turned to the right and you were met with dark, lusted eyes. There was barely any hazel left, but you loved them anyway. His mouth was parted in a deep moan, and as he bottomed in and out slowly, you were enchanted by the pearls of sweat rolling down his forehead and the sounds leaving his lips.

His perfect, o shaped lips that he ran his tongue through. There was nothing more beautiful that Azriel for you. Him training, sleeping, talking. Smiling, thinking, walking. Anything he did was a piece of art to your eyes, and your favorite part was by far lusted Azriel.

The way his eyes darkened but his expression softened in pleasure and love, only for you. The grip on your throat relaxed enough for you to push yourself up and catch his lips. With your eyes closed, you only felt his hands moving you like a rag doll until you were laying on your back, his cock still inside you and his chest pressed against yours.

“Naughty girl” he whispered against your mouth, his tongue brushing your upper teeth. “Masturbating yourself in my office”

“I bet half of the camp heard you jacking off to my name” you answered, not willing to let a provocation go without a reply. “Like a beast in heat”

You locked your legs behind his calves, and used your now free hands to press him closer to you. The meat of his ass was tender and firm, and you squeezed it hard. Azriel drowned his groan against your lips, and without further invitation, showed you just what a beast he could be.

He pitoned in and out of you with a formidable strength, giving the sun was just coming up and he had stayed up late between your legs. His left hand rose to your breast and cruelly squeezed, capturing your nipple between his thumb and pointy finger.

You threw your head back in the pillow, crying out his name and leaving him access to your neck. His mouth was rough, long gone the sweet love-making of the last day. Your arms held onto his shoulders and sneaky fingers brushed against his wings.

When he almost crumbled against you, his legs giving up and his pace slowing, you smiled proudly to yourself.

“Poor Illyrian bat” you teased him. “No one to touch your wings for so long”

“Like you wouldn’t have killed them”

You didn’t bother answering, knowing it was true. Something as intimate as touching his wings, making him shudder even when he rutted, was yours. Neither of you lasted long after that, only another soft touch from you had him shouting your name roughly against your neck, probably all Velaris hearing him shattering his high.

Just watching him crumple was enough to make you cum, but if that wasn’t enough, one of his shadows, licked a deep stripe from your entrance to your clit, squeezing your button until your legs locked tightly around him and you broke.

After more orgasms than what you could count, you were sure that was the last one in you. Not even biting your lip was enough to stop the sounds leaving your soul, Azriel whispering something in your ear as he held you against his chest with one arm, your back not touching the bed.

The first ray of sun sneaking through the window hit the side of his face when you opened back your eyes. His hair was ruffled, his cheeks pinkish and his eyes bright. So bright and happy that you could look away.

You knew his life hadn’t been easy before you, that his past haunted him when he least expected it. His line of work was hard too, and his eyes had lost the innocence long before you met him. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, you swore the boy Azriel could have been peaked through.

His smile was more radiant than any sun that could enter the room. You felt your heart warming your whole body at the pure, absolute love that you felt for him.

“I missed you” he repeated.

“Me too. You shouldn’t be allowed to leave for so long”

“Maybe Rhys has something to say about it”

“Maybe we have something to say about it”

Azriel’s hazel eyes traveled down your chest to your belly, where he could already notice the bump. It hadn’t been there when he left, and he had spent a good hour crying about it when he came back.

Laying back on his side, he left his hand over the life that you two had created. Tears quickly appeared in your eyes as you thought about it. You didn’t want to assume the gender, didn’t want to know until the birth. Everything you had gone through, the obstacles and the pain, was worthy when you imagined the life ahead.

It would be the last big mission Azriel went for a while. Rhysand had cancelled everything he had in mind for his shadowsinger when he learned the news, only leaving the inevitable one that he had already finished.

For the next seven months, Azriel would be yours to enjoy. Mornings waiting up to his sleeping face, meals together, and long nights between the sheets. It was enough to let the first tear roll down your cheek.

Azriel caught it quickly with his thumb. He leant down to press a slow kiss to your wobbling lips, his own heart racing.

“I won’t be leaving you ever” he admitted against your lips. “Not even when you want to kick me out for the pregnancy pains”

“Glad we’re agreeing on the culprit” you chuckled.

It was a different type of kiss; one you hadn’t shared with any past lovers. His lips brushed against yours with all the care and love he could muster through the bond, trapping your lower one between his teeth. It wasn’t rough or rushed.

With your eyes closed and your hand over his right above your future babe, you cherished the months to come.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars @courtofjurdan

[fanaticsnail]

we love unhinged dirty thoughts >w> they're funnnnn!!!! and aslkdjlkgf if you want my unhinged, tired flavour thought of the day- it is thusly... luffy could ostensibly get off from getting any part of his body being used as a stim chew toy. which is a v v fascinating thought, at least to us >w> - @remisloves

Oh, Remi. I love you. I see your Luffy wanting to be a chew toy and raise you a Kid wanting to be topped and dominated...

Told You You'd Like It

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: You suggested something new in the bedroom, and your boyfriend immediately shot it down. You thought that's where the conversation ended, it had now flung from your thoughts never to be thought of by you again. Unbeknownst to you, Eustass Kid was consumed by the thought so much he almost thought on nothing else.

Warnings: Eustass Kid x gn!reader, penetration (reader and Kid receiving), rough smut, anal (Kid receiving), MDNI, 18+, smut, little to no plot, Kid is a switch, dumbification (Kid), Kid is into it.

Notes: I am a little loopy today and thought I'd try something new. Please read the warnings, do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

The first time you suggested the idea to him, Eustass Kid scoffed, berated you, and tied you to the bed and showed you exactly who was the dominant one in this relationship. The amount of times he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you, putting you in your place as your mind was spared of all thoughts other than how good his hand, lips and cock felt on your skin, had you regret ever suggesting such a notion. 

You had assumed the conversation died there: no more offerings of railing Eustass Kid and attempting something new in the bedroom he was yet to experience. Taking that into consideration, you refused to ask him again out of fear of the fact he'd make you cum on his metal hand again. 

But then he thought about it more. 

The thought alone of being topped, pleasure being pressed into him as he had done so many times before to you, was intriguing. He was wondering how it would feel, having you enter him and stretch his puckered and unexplored hole with your hands or anything else you wanted to try him with. 

And then he thought about it even more. Thinking about how it would feel to reach his depths, picturing how hard he would cum, or if he would even cum at all. The curiosity never ceased, and he needed to know exactly how it felt.

As he fucked you with his cock, his hips smacking with your body and watching your ass ripple with every thrust, he could picture nothing else than what it would feel like if you did the same to him. 

Would you grip his hips as hard as he gripped yours now? Would you bully his ass the same way that he was bullying you? Would he cry out with his eyes rolling back, contracting around you as you were around his cock now? Would he be loud, biting down on the mattress the same way you were, empty of all other thoughts than the way you'd feel caressing his depths?

“K-Kid I'm gonna-... I'm gonna c-cum-... Please can I cum? Please?” you whimpered, your body twitching and overstimulated as you pulsed over his throbbing shaft. He growled your name, forcing your back into a low arch as he pummeled himself into you harder and deeper. 

“Cum, fucking cum now. Cum on my cock,” he barked his order, feeling you ring and contract as you screamed his name through your bliss. He was not far after, painting your insides with ribbons of his cum while whining and panting into your shoulder. He bit down on the back of your neck as he felt his release spurt and splash back within your body. 

After spending time tidying, cleaning up your joint release and bringing back you both your favorite drink, he slung his arm loosely around your shoulders and drew you in close to him. 

Shifting up to look at him, you study his scarred face and noticed something behind his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the wooden wall in front of him, his lips falling into a line and staring vacantly ahead. 

“Are you okay, honey?” your soft question drew him out of his prior hypnosis, his eyes softening with a soothing smile drawing up his lips. 

“Yeah, m’alright Sunshine. Don't you worry, alrigh’?” he responded while muffling his voice against your temple, placing a soft kiss atop your skin. Humming against his touch, you lean into his embrace and nuzzle against his bare chest. 

“So long as you're sure,” you murmur to your lover, pressing your lips to his clavicle and nestling against him to begin to fall asleep. As your breathing evened, you fell into a soft and blissful slumber, your body spent and finally ushering you into the arms of rest. 

Eustass Kid would only dream of being so lucky. No sleep found him as he was consumed by the thoughts of you violating his body, entering his ass and bucking into him with reckless abandon. As the fifth hour of unrest drove him into the wee hours of the dawn, he could no longer stand the thought.

You felt your shoulders shake, waking you from your peace and forcing you to immediately draw up arms and ready yourself for a fight.

“What is it? Pirates, marines, bounty hunters?” you hushed your tone, reaching down and tugging your jacket up to place your arms into, “They above deck? Let's move-.” Kid’s arm clapped around yours, halting you as he gazed intensely into your eyes. 

“-I want you to fuck me in the ass,” he said humorlessly and in the absence of all mismeaning. His eyes holding nothing but all sincerity, almost sheepish in asking you such a request as soon as you woke.

After taking a moment, you held your eyes with his and slowly shrugged the jacket from your shoulders and placed it to the side. Deeply inhaling through your nose, you release a lengthy exhale and attempt to collect your thoughts and lower your heartbeat from the earlier adrenaline spike. 

“And you couldn't wait until the morning?” you slowly drawled at him, glaring up at him through your eyelashes. He shook his head, offering you a soft pout and widening his eyes innocently. You groan and roll your head on your shoulders in disdain for the lack of a full night's rest. 

“Okay,” you nod, gently coaxing him to lie on his back and crawl through his legs, “We'll start small and work our way up to-.”

“-No,” he uttered quietly. You lulled your head to the side, scanning over his face for any inhibitions. Upon finding only a sheepish grimace, his eyes lowered to the ground, and a warm blush rising up his cheeks, you slowly smirk and look down your nose at him with your brow arched high. 

When Kid met your eyes once more, the look you had was foreign to him. Looking possessed, consumed with desire and feral with lust, Kid gulped back his nerves and rounded his caramel eyes up at you. 

“Alright, pretty boy,” you smirk down at him, giving his chin a gentle tap with your index and middle fingers, “Lay on your stomach and arch your back.” You inched your way off him, aiding him to unceremoniously flip onto his belly. Gifting him an ‘L-shaped’ pillow from your side of the bed, you place his chin in the corner and rest it beneath his arms cradling his chest. 

“You're gonna regret not letting me work up to it,” you run your fingers down his spine, halting just above his ass cheeks before you grab at the taut muscles, “But if you're that adamant about it, I'll just go straight in.”

As tears began to sting the corner of his eyes, he bit down on the mattress while feeling your pelvis meet with his in a repetitive buck. You had warmed and stretched him with your fingers as best as you could without his impatience getting the better of him, but as soon as you drew down to the hilt, it was like a switch had been flipped inside Eustass Kid. 

He couldn't think, breathe or move without feeling how far his body stretched to accommodate your actions. Each cruel piston felt all too foreign, but oh so good. He was drunk on the feeling, his body completely dominated and relaxing beneath each thrust and grind. 

Kid whined your name, groaning into the pillow while biting down hard on the plush material. Reaching further depths than he could ever dream, his eyes began to roll as the blunt tip hit his prostate and had his cock twitch in the approach of ecstasy. 

“You're doing so well, honey,” you praised him, gripping his hips and bucking in harder to perpetually hit that sweet spot deep in his abdomen. You rake your blunt nails over his hip and down to circle around his painfully hard cock, choking the tip before pistoning the shaft in the same motion you fucked his ass with. 

Kid couldn't grace you with an answer, his mind finding itself vacant and jaw falling slack, as he drooled onto the flush material. His body began to contract, his balls lifting flush against his abdomen as his cock twitched in your palm. 

He couldn't warn you, his body immediately betraying him by snapping that coil deep within the pit of his stomach and spurting his seed in hot ropes of translucent release. His whined and strangled cry had you smile down at him. The tension on his shoulders fell slack as his body gave into the feeling of being completely spent.

Eustass Kid had never cum so hard and long in his life. Each time he thought his orgasm was close to concluding, another twitching wave shifted through him and pulsed through his cock in a spurt of viscous cum. He felt so full, so complete and stuffed to the brim and he couldn't get enough.  

The duvet beneath him was coated in the sheen of his cum, just as your palm was painted by his dribbling knob. His asshole twitched around you, still sheathed all the way to your abdomen and taking all you had given him. 

“You okay down there, honey?” you cooed down at him, feeling his cock still twitching in your hand as his shaft rapidly deflated. He couldn't nod, couldn't breath or speak without it coming out in incoherent babbling and mumbles. 

All you offered him while inching out of him was a simple phrase whispered into his ear with a gentle kiss on his cheek, “I fucking told you you'd like it.”

He offered a soft grunt in response, burying his blushing face into the pillow to hide his bashfulness. You hummed down in glee, crawling off him and beginning to ready several items to clean both of you up with, just as he did for you hours earlier. 

As you returned back to the room, all you could see was your hulking boyfriend laying flat on his back and haphazardly tucked into the duvet: face flushed, eyes peacefully shut, and a soft smile drawn up onto his lips. 

You would look forward to topping him again, and again, and again: never ceasing to tire from the overstimulated little whines and mewls from him each time you made him cum by fucking his ass. 

There was no denying it now. Eustass Kid enjoyed himself too much to let the situation never occur again. His sheepish grin, innocent rounded eyes, and biting his lips to stifle a blush was all you needed to see to know he wanted it. And you were more than happy to oblige him each time he was consumed with the need.

[alwaysmicado]

Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

series masterlist | main masterlist

The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up. 

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings. 

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special. 

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again? 

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration. 

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–” 

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up. 

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is. 

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken. 

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out. 

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?” 

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself. 

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone. 

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance. 

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.” 

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.” 

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. “Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.” 

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead. 

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.” 

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him. 

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes. 

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?” 

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.” 

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?” 

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.” 

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again. 

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.” 

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry. 

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.” 

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.” 

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.” 

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity. 

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be. 

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.” 

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile. 

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?” 

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’m not sure that’s true.” 

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare. 

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now. 

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back. 

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you. 

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life. 

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence. 

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you. 

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own. 

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone. 

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart. 

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night. 

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness. 

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile. 

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.  

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?” 

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow. 

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.” 

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him. 

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack. 

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease. 

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight. 

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident. 

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble. 

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer. 

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot. 

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his. 

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black. 

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great  view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist. 

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm. 

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed. 

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him. 

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips. 

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his. 

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him. 

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up. 

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy. 

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him. 

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning. 

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants.  And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand. 

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?”  “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.”  “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really. 

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors,  reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids. 

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy��s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction. 

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?” 

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings. 

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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[thesoftestirises]

carry your throne

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : 18+. this is smut. like... toe curling, pearl clutching inducing, ‘what did he sayyyy?’ smut. minors dni. you will be blocked. ♡ word count : 4.5k ♡ warnings : light degradation, humiliation, quid pro quo set up (fr this could be read as prostitution - but only to one man), name calling, nipple play, breeding, sanctioned cheating, oral, aemond is kinda evil but he’s a sweetie on the inside i promise ♡ summary : If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties. ♡ a/n : if this seems familiar, it is! it’s a rewrite of the moon knight fic of the same name. i just felt it suited aemond so much it needed to be republished.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” A voice whispered into your ear, soft and teasing.

A familiar pair of hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and playing with the laces of your gown. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin in response to the touch, your body growing warm at just the thought of the person behind you. Experience had not made you numb to the feeling those fingertips brought. You turned around to gaze into the single, pale blue eye you saw in your dreams.

“Prince Aemond,” you said, tilting your head downwards in a polite nod. If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties.

“Miss Y/N. That dress looks expensive,” Aemond said, his heavy gaze roaming around your frame before coming back to your own eyes.

Time had taught you that every conversation with Aemond went deeper than what was heard on the surface. Every exchange was a performance, an intricate dance where you would circle around the truth and try to gain the upper hand by pretending to care less than the other. There was always a double meaning to every word he said. You supposed it was a habit he picked up from being surrounded by two faced aristocrats. Cruelty masked as politeness, gossip masked as concern. Even though you were both well into adulthood, Aemond constantly made you feel like a clumsy little girl.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” you said. You kept your expression neutral and looked down at the vivid blue fabric draped over your body as if seeing it for the first time. As if you hadn’t spent two hours marveling at the intricate lacework before even trying it on. As if you hadn’t had to hide it under your bed to prevent anyone else from seeing and wondering why you were in possession of such a luxury. “After all, you were the one who bought it.”

He smiled in amusement and cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his signet ring pressed against your burning skin. “How’s Ron?”

You fiddled with your wedding ring without thinking. It was a gaudy thing, studded with sparkling gemstones that practically took up half your finger. Of course, none of them were real. As many things with Ron were, it was just for appearances. Appearances were all Ron could afford. All he cared about. His concern with what other people thought had driven the both of you into debt, leaving you to clean up his mess. But your solution to the problem was merely a house of cards. You just hoped it would last long enough for one of you to come up with a better solution than spreading your legs for your husband’s lender.

“He’s fine.”

Aemond hummed in acknowledgment. “Business is good, I presume?”

“It is.”

“Wonderful. Strip.”

You obeyed, quickly and efficiently removing your clothes. Aemond had little patience and didn’t care much for shows. In the beginning of your arrangement with him, he would tear the clothes off you himself if you weren’t quick enough. You had spent many nights hiding out in Aemond’s study until all his servants were off to bed so you could sneak out in a different gown than the one you had arrived in.

Aemond moved across the room to a red leather armchair and sat down while you set your discarded clothes down into a neat pile. You folded your hands in front of you and stared at him, waiting for further instruction. Every rendezvous with Aemond went a little differently. So differently, in fact, that you often felt like you were dealing with entirely different people who were simply wearing the same face. Sometimes, he just wanted you to stand in front of him while he stroked his cock to completion. Other times, he would pin you against a window and whisper immoral filth into your ear while rubbing your clit. Tonight, he watched you with a greedy glint in his eye as he dragged his gaze from your head down to your toes.

“Crawl.”

You sucked in a breath and sank to your hands and knees. The hardwood floors under your skin were unforgivingly cold, but acted as a welcome balm on your feverishly hot skin. You kept your gaze locked on Aemond’s lips as you moved forward, trying to remain as unbothered as possible to spite him. He liked humiliating you, just as he did with everyone else in his life. You tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of shaming you. He already had more than enough power.

He stopped you with a simple hand motion when you got close enough to touch. “Sit.”

You leaned back and sat straight, allowing Aemond to brush your hair away from your face. You tilted your head up and allowed him to run his fingertips over your jawline, nose, and lips. His touch was gentle, warm, almost sweet. You hated how much you enjoyed it.

“When was the last time Ron fucked you?” Aemond whispered.

“Yesterday.”

He kept his expression neutral, but you could see the distaste on his lips. Perhaps he hated to be reminded that he had to share with someone he thought of as beneath him. “Did you like it? His cock?”

“Yes,” you replied, but it was a second too late. Aemond could easily see the hesitation written all over your face.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What is it to you if I enjoy being fucked by my husband or not?” You said in a whispered hiss.

He smirked and stroked a thumb over your cheekbone. “Whatever are you so angry for, dove? Are you upset your husband can’t satisfy your cunt the way I do? Maybe next time we should invite him in. I could give him a proper lesson on how to tease and stroke your whore body.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and sneered. “Are you going to talk all day or are you going to fuck me, my prince?”

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he grinned, his teeth appearing inhumanly sharp. He plucked an envelope from the table next to him, tearing it open with an ornate ivory letter opener and extracting the contents. He leaned back in his chair with all the assured air of a refined aristocrat and spread his legs. “Be a dear and busy your mouth, won’t you?”

You glared at him but he ignored you, choosing to focus on the paper he held in his hands instead. A tense silence settled in the room, only interrupted by the sound of Aemond’s drunken servants having their evening meal in the kitchen downstairs. You bit your tongue and sighed to yourself. Pride wasn’t something you could afford anymore. The sooner you sucked him off and gave him his release, the easier it would be for you to go home without drawing suspicion.

You placed a hand on Aemond’s thigh and listened to his pleased hum. The material of his trousers felt like silk, the type of rich and smooth fabric that only the ultra wealthy could afford. You ran your fingertips over the inner seam and drew closer and closer to his cock. His warmth seemed to radiate right through the clothing. It was addictive. You were almost tempted to rub your face against him like a cat in heat.

You glanced up and were annoyed to see he still wasn’t looking at you. You scowled and tugged at his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and loosening his trousers. Aemond’s cock was half hard, the soft skin flushed pink instead of the violent red you were more used to. You spat into your palm and wrapped your hand around the base, gently stroking him as you got yourself warmed up. Even though you’d taken Aemond many times and in multiple positions, his size still intimidated you. You gave the tip of his length a kiss before swiping your tongue over the head. He let out a quiet hum of approval and pushed his cock against your lips more insistently.

“Get on with it, princess. At this pace you’ll be here until sunrise,” he grunted.

You glared at him but obeyed, wrapping your lips around his flesh, his bitter mint flavor washing over your tongue. You found his taste remarkably tolerable, almost arousing. Like his essence was laced with some sort of aphrodisiac. You pressed your tongue up against the underside of his cock and sucked, drawing a pleased sigh from his lips. A steady trickle of precum began leaking from his tip and filling your mouth. You pressed your tongue into his slit and looked up to see if you had gotten his attention. Aemond stared back down at you with a glossy expression, his letter long forgotten on the floor by his feet.

You pulled your mouth off of him, leaving his cock slick and shiny with spit, and pumped his length with the hand you kept wrapped around the base. “Is this satisfactory, my prince?”

“I’ll be satisfied when that pretty face is coated in cum and tears,” he replied, his chest heaving as he dug his nails into the leather of his chair. “Choke on my cock, princess. Let me see you look ravished and thoroughly had. Do that for me and I’ll give you the world.”

You closed your eyes in response to his filth. How he managed to make the dirtiest things sound sexy and pleasurable, you’d never know. “As you wish, my prince.”

You lined his length up with your mouth and took it as far into you as you could. His flesh pressed up against your throat, restricting your air flow and getting your eyes to well up with tears, just as Aemond had wanted. You ignored the discomfort in your mouth and jaw and moved your head up and down over Aemond’s cock. Aesthetics came second to doing whatever got him to react. Eventually Aemond stopped you, pulling his length away from your mouth and taking your chin into his fingers.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a portrait artist on hand to capture the way you look right now,” he said, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and mockingly pouting at you. “You know, I’ve always admired the way you carry yourself. So poised, so refined. One could easily mistake you for a landed lady. But when I see you like this, I can’t help but think this is where you truly belong.”

He pulled you up and into his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he explored your body with his hands. You pressed your legs together to try to control the dull throbbing in your core and bit back your urge to whine. Aemond placed his lips on your jaw and moved his hands upwards to pluck at your sensitive nipples. You squirmed and pressed back to try to evade the pleasure his fingers brought, but there was no escaping him. He had caged you in his arms, enveloping you into a pine scented embrace. And even if he wasn’t wrapped around you, you weren’t sure you would really want to leave.

“My pretty little dove,” he whispered, squeezing your breasts. “If I were your husband, I would have impregnated you four times over by now.”

“My prince,” you gasped. “Your words are dangerous.”

Aemond merely hummed in response, nibbling at the shell of your ear while continuing to circle and pinch at your buds. Once your nipples were swollen and fully sensitive to the touch, Aemond twisted your head towards him. You obediently let him press at your bruised lips with his fingers and explored his face with your eyes.

Prince Aemond was undeniably good looking. He had a head full of white blond hair, golden skin, a rare smile that could bring a woman to her knees. A god amongst men. But your favorite feature of his had always been his gaze. The raw, unrestrained power on one side, the ghost of his past written on the other. Even now, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

“Spread your thighs,” Aemond said.

You obediently opened your legs and leaned your head back against Aemond’s shoulder. His hands directly went to your folds, one hand keeping you spread open, the other playing with your aching clit. You closed your eyes nuzzled into Aemond’s neck as he touched you, circling your bead in a slow, steady pace.

“Sloppy little harlot. Dripping all over my fingers and staining my trousers,” Aemond said, pinching your clit. “No one fucks this body as well as I do. Right, dove?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, desperate to keep his hands on you.

“I’m going to prepare you for my cock, princess. Is that okay?”

“Please.”

Aemond chuckled and kissed your temple before taking your left hand into his. He ran his thumb over your palm and paused when he reached your wedding ring. He examined the glittering paste jewel before taking the band off and placing it on the side table next to him. You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when you noticed him taking off his signet ring. You knit your brows together and watched as he placed the ring on your finger where your wedding ring used to be.

“Hold that for me, won’t you?” he said, kissing the soft skin of your neck before playfully biting down.

You nodded and whined as he returned his fingers to your folds, this time focusing on your entrance. He circled your opening and pressed the pad of his finger in, teasing you without providing any release. You grabbed onto the arms of the chair you were both in and bit down on your lip.

“Please, my prince, I can’t take it,” you begged.

“What is it you wish for, dove?”

“Your fingers,” you breathed.

“And where would you like my fingers, hm? Your pretty breasts? Your sweet mouth?”

“Don’t tease me, my prince.”

“Oh,” he pouted, giving you a look of false pity. “I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you tell me where to touch you. So tell me, princess. Where does this lewd, whore body wish to be touched?”

“My cunt,” you said without hesitation, turning your head towards Aemond. Your gaze was so hazy, you could barely make out his facial features, yet you could easily focus on his berry tinted lips. You stared and longed to close the space between your bodies, to finally taste Aemond’s mouth. But some part of you, the logical part most likely, was demanding you keep your distance.

“Oh, my dove. Was that so hard?” He asked, pressing the finger he was teasing you with inside. You whimpered as Aemond began moving the digit in and out at a steady pace. “How are you always so tight? Is your husband even fucking you?”

“Sh-shut up,” you said, biting back your noises of pleasure. “Put another finger in.”

“Such filthy demands,” Aemond said, pretending to be shocked. He kissed your cheek and did as you asked, pushing another finger into your entrance and curling the digits inside to tease at your walls. You stiffened and let out a strangled cry, writing in Aemond’s arms as he pressed against every sensitive part of you. “Look, dove. Look at where I’m touching.”

You lowered your gaze to where your bodies were connected and groaned. Aemond’s fingers were glistening and flushed pink, dripping with your juices.

“Dirty, isn’t it? You can practically hear how wet you are. Listen,” he whispered in your ear as he parted your folds further to illustrate. “Do you hear that?”

You nodded, watching as Aemond rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb. Every time he moved his fingers, a slick, wet noise came from between your legs. You were mesmerized. Dizzy with pleasure, swept up in the desire that only Aemond could seem to bring out of you. He added another finger while you were lost in your thoughts and kept working you open.

You were only broken out of your trance by the brush of Aemond’s lips against your ear as he spoke. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He smiled, his sharp teeth on full display once more. You shivered, half in arousal, half in anticipation. He slipped an arm under your knees and another around your shoulders and lifted you up. You snuggled in close as he settled you onto his desk and cleared off the space behind you. The edges of the mahogany table felt harsh and unyielding underneath your hips, but you could barely focus on that when Aemond had his hands on your thighs.

“Beg for my cock, princess.”

“My prince,” you said, cupping the side of his face and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. “I need you inside me. Take me. Please.”

He smirked down at you and loosened his tie. You laid down and stared up at him as he positioned himself at your entrance. The two of you had engaged in this illicit dance so many times, and yet each time felt like the first. You placed your hands on his chest, curiously stroking the silky fabric of his shirt. The material was thin, allowing you to feel the muscles he hid under his clothing. You briefly lamented the fact that he rarely ever had the patience to strip for you. While you were lost in thought, he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, softly kissing it before placing it over his heart.

You let out a deep breath and winced as he began pushing inside. He stroked the skin of your hips and made sure to move slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. The pain mixed with pleasure until you could no longer tell which feeling was which. Every nerve in you had been set on fire, the warm arousal in the pit of your stomach flaring up to a heat that rivaled the sun. He bottomed out in you after what felt like an eternity and waited for you to whine at him before he moved.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “I’ll give you what you want, dove. Don’t worry. I’ll tend to your every desire.”

You were too delirious to respond to him, lost in the overwhelming feeling of him filling what felt like every empty space in your body. His warmth, his scent, his touch - he overwhelmed you. He moved in a slow, deep rhythm, careful not to hurt you as he reacquainted your body with his. His consideration for you was sweet, but unnecessary. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped harshly at his shirt.

“I’m not made of porcelain, my prince. Please go faster.”

“Last time I obeyed your commands, I got an angry letter from your keeper,” Aemond said, keeping his slow rhythm steady as sweat began to gather on his brow. “Apparently you told him I had fucked you so harshly, you couldn’t bare to take another cock for two weeks.”

You flushed with heat and looked down in embarrassment. “I was fine.”

“Oh, so you lied?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Will you fuck me properly or not?”

“Tell me why you lied to your husband, truthfully, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as your body can handle.”

You hesitated. The rational part of your mind screamed at you not to give someone as manipulative as Aemond information that could destroy you. But the part of you that was at the helm, the animal instincts that polite society had demanded you keep suppressed, thought destruction at the hands of your secret lover sounded seductive. “I did not want to lay with him.”

His lips curved into a slow smile, as if he had been expecting that answer all along. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I wasn’t aware ‘marriage counseling’ was one of your areas of expertise, my prince,” you sarcastically replied. “Fuck me harder or I’ll get myself off.”

At that he frowned, grabbing your hands and pinning them down at your sides. “You are the most infuriating little creature I’ve ever met.”

“Likewise, my prince.”

His lip twitched in displeasure before he slammed into you without warning. You gasped, digging your nails into his desk to keep yourself grounded as Aemond began fucking you relentlessly. Though his rhythm was meant to be a punishment, you enjoyed it far more than you should and quickly found yourself hovering over the edge. You only needed a little push to fully get yourself there. You attempted to move a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, but were still trapped by Aemond’s unyielding grip.

“Let my hand go,” you demanded.

“What for?”

“I need to come.”

“And you thought I’d just let you take your pleasure after how rude you’ve been to me tonight?”

You frowned petulantly. “You promised.”

“You didn’t get it in writing,” he smirked. “But I’ll make you a deal, hm? I’ll deliver everything I promised you if you say one, simple phrase.”

You paused and looked at him skeptically. “What phrase?”

He gave you a gentle smile, bringing a hand to your hairline and wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “Say that you love me.”

You froze. This was cruel, even for him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” He asked, slowing the pace of his thrusts until he stopped entirely and released his grip on your wrists.

“Both,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you said, looking away from him as your eyes began to flood with tears. You kept your gaze fixed on a painting of a flower vase and willed yourself to stay calm. You had done everything to prevent yourself from developing feelings, villainizing him in your own mind so you wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of loving someone you could never have. Somehow, despite all odds, he had found you out. You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You were fearful that he’d throw your feelings back in your face, unable and unwilling to reciprocate.

Aemond brought the hand on your forehead down to your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“My princess,” he murmured, his brows drawn together. “Even if you do not say it, I want you to know that I do. Love you, that is.”

“My prince-“

“Aemond,” he corrected.

You licked your lips and nodded. “Aemond, we can’t. I’m a married woman, and you’re a respected member of this community. This affair was bad enough, but to get our emotions involved- this could ruin you.”

“I don’t care,” Aemond replied. “I need you, all of you. My entire life I’ve wanted for nothing. I understand the value of wealth and power, but all of these things that surround me are just baubles to show off to others. I could live without these things. But you, I could never live without you. I crave you. I think about you constantly. You are the only person in my life who I feel at ease with. Everything beautiful and pure in this world reminds me of you. Please, my love. Don’t give up on us before we even have the chance to try.”

You blinked up at him, searching his expressive gaze and only finding affection and overwhelming adoration. “I love you, Aemond.”

He grinned and leaned down, pressing his mouth against yours for the first time. He tasted surprisingly sweet against your tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You tangled your fingers into his soft hair, parting your lips and sighing into the kiss. He shifted his hips back and forward against yours, reminding you he had never pulled out.

You broke the kiss to look at Aemond incredulously. “Did you seriously stay hard that whole time?”

“You know how much I like it when you cry, my love,” he replied, nipping at your lower lip before moving to lick one of your tear stained cheeks.

You shivered in disgusted arousal. “You are a perverted man.”

“I know,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from your lips before moving back to his earlier position. He gripped the back of your knees and looked down at you with a smirk. “But you seem to like that, hm? Maybe that’s something we should explore.”

“Later,” you said, gasping as Aemond’s cock began pressing against a sensitive area inside you. “Oh, right there.”

He wordlessly continued hitting the spot, keeping a steady rhythm as he brought you back to the precipice. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the feeling he evoked inside of you becoming too much for you to handle. At that moment, he moved a hand down to the apex of your thighs and pressed his thumb against your clit. Your climax overwhelmed you, blocking out your vision and leaving you writhing in the aftershocks of pleasure. Aemond finished a few moments after you did, carefully pulling out before finishing on your stomach. You winced as he dragged his fingers through the mess he made and smeared the sticky fluid over your cheeks and lips.

“You make the prettiest picture like this,” he said, massaging the fluid into your skin as best as he could while you squirmed and shot him an annoyed look.

Once you came down from your post coital haze, you looked at Aemond apprehensively. “Did you mean everything you said earlier?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. “I love you, and I’d do anything to have you.”

“Does that include leveraging your financial control over my husband to take his wife?”

“I did say anything, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I have plans for dear Ronald.” Aemond smirked and gently placed his hands on your hips. “Suppose a certain prince who Ronald was indebted to noticed a few discrepancies in his ledgers? Fraud is a serious crime, my love, especially when you’re defrauding nobility. That’s a guaranteed prison sentence for dearest Ronald. But oh, he would be leaving behind a beautiful wife to fend for herself. Would it be so bad if the handsome prince that Ronald defrauded kindly decided to take in his helpless, pretty wife? It would only be the honorable thing to do.”

You giggled and pulled Aemond down to brush your nose against his. “And would this handsome prince be marrying Ronald’s wife?”

“If Ronald’s wife permits, the handsome prince would not only marry her, he would fill her womb as many times as she likes,” Aemond said.

“I think she’d like that,” you replied, stealing a kiss.

[flowermiist]

A warm heart - I

Click here to read the prologue if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I would like to start off by saying thank you for all the kind comments, likes and reblogs the prologue has gotten. I was going to make this chaper longer but wanted to leave some intrigue. I’m currently working on the second chapter as I post this. Again, thank you so so much. Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment please. ♡

“Didn’t know you were that much into cooking, cap.” Garrick says, hiding a smirk and almost teasing as he sits across the captain who simply gives him a small cranky huff and his tired eyes stick back to the screen of his phone with the video playing.

Only one of the wired earbuds is connected to his ear as he watches every single detail almost carefully –

“Improving my cooking skills, somethin’ the lot of you should start doing.”

It was by far clear that John wasn’t in the best of moods after a stressing mission, his voice much hoarser and raspier than usual – the scent of the cheap cigar he had gotten from a gas station fills the tent as Mactavish sleeps with arms crossed, his head hanging low and Simon keeps guard – his eyes moving towards the conversation from time to time.

“Been trying to get the hang of it…” He speaks again with a sigh and an attempt not to be too grumpy, trying to remain as composed as he can while wiping off the sweat from his forehead, the lines on his rough skin becoming accentuated as he slightly frowns.

“And how’s it going?” Gaz asks with more curiosity now, looking at his captain and placing his elbows on the wooden table.

“Good, ’s far as I can tell.” Is all John responds, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he tries to sink deeper into the folding wooden chair tapping his cigar against the makeshift ashtray (which was simply an empty can of tuna) as the already weak string of smoke dies away.

You quickly scramble out of the bathroom, uniform already displayed on your bed. Stopping in right front of your vanity and placing a hand against the wall as you lean closer to the mirror to get a better look, trying to be as careful as possible not to mess up your lipstick – the moment you can’t find your shoes, you just get more irritated and the irritation mixing with yesterday’s hangover is not a pretty feeling, especially at this time of day.

You know you no longer have time to find your comfortable shoes the moment you look at the watch on your left wrist so you move towards your closet and take out a pair of nude stiletto heels, not the most convenient or comfortable ones but better than going barefoot to work or using one of your “I’m only here at the club to dance and get laid tonight.” pumps.

The moment you step into your car and try to start the engine, it makes that funny noise you hate but know too well to ignore.

“C’mon… let’s not embarrass ourselves, will you stop acting up before a neighbor notices and calls me broke?” You mumble to your own car like a crazy woman as the engine struggles to start.

Three days, three whole damned days since the engine of your car has been struggling to start and has started getting on your nerves – you tried to contact Harrison, your mechanic and the asshole has been completely ignoring your calls, he not only overpriced every little thing he did to your car but also thought you were some sort of stupid woman who didn’t know anything about your own car.

Sure, you could just drive to his garage and tell him the problem right away, but you were loaded with work these days and this man’s policy was to book in through a phone call to get your call fixed – otherwise, he refused to fix anything. And knowing him, there was no way he’d pick up any of your calls anytime soon.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips the moment your car decides to cooperate and the engine starts. “Good girl...” You whisper through your teeth with a smile, moving your finger towards the screen of the radio to start it.

“Well damn! Doesn’t someone look sexy as hell this morning?” Zaila says as she looks at you up and down from her desk – obviously noticing the shoes you chose this morning, you smile at her as you walk towards the reception.

“Well, to your information, I was actually thinking about bringing the leopard print ones you love so much…” You speak with a playful tone while you put your purse on top of her counter.

You give her a sly smirk, checking in with the fingerprint scan she places in front of you.

“I know I’m late… I’m hungover and my car is acting up again and that asshole won’t-” before you can even finish, Zaila moves her hand up to stop you, her various bracelets jingle on her wrist when she does this, stopping you from opening your mouth to explain any further.

You sigh as you already know what she’s about to say.

“Don’t think about it, alright? I was late too – stayed up fighting with that annoying witch living next door. Barely got any rest.”

Zaila says and you smile.

“Somethin’ to laugh about?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you her best warning look.

“No ma’am.” You say with a thankful smile, getting a hold of your purse again before lightly squeezing Zaila’s soft hand and walking away towards your consulting room.

You check your phone while the computer on the desk turns on, you check your channel and smile to yourself while reading some of the comments from your lasagna recipe.

You definitely worked hard for that video and your subscribers seemed to really like it – you were aware that the ages of your views were something quite varied. From teenagers learning how to cook for themselves to middle aged adults improving in the kitchen.

Looking back at the computer in front of you, you put your phone down and begin organizing and checking some files from your patients.

Coming here with Zaila for lunch break was a good idea as always. Both of you laugh, gossip and enjoy lunch break while you sit at the small fancy restaurant that’s right across the street from the clinic.

Zaila went to the bathroom as the two of you waited for the food you ordered to arrive, leaving you alone at the table. You looked through your purse to grab your small mirror when your phone started buzzing from the call you were now receiving.

You grab it and look at the screen, reading the name of the contact, “Harrison - Mechanic.” – you huff and roll your eyes as you answer the call from the asshole that had been ignoring you for the past three days.

“Am I speaking to my favorite client?” The mechanic says, his tone sounding almost cheerful, you’ve known this man for some time now and you know him well enough to know he’s probably drunk.

“So you ignore your favorite client’s calls for three days straight now?” You reply to him. It sounds too rude, you know that but this man is an asshole too and him ignoring you was three times worse than your words.

“Oh c’mon… I’ve just been… uh…” – you wait in silence and look at your nails, already wondering what excuse he’s going to give you.

“–that doesn’t matter now since I’m talking to you, aye? What seems to be the problem with your lady?”

“What makes you think I’ll go back to your garage?” You speak, almost irritated, then catch a glimpse of Zaila from the corner of your eye while she talks to one of the waiters on her way back to the table.

“I’ll give you a discount, how ’bout that, doc? No need to make this call any longer, just, eh, come over and I’ll check on her.” Harrison speaks and you swear you can almost see that annoying smile of his as he speaks.

“You sure you won’t “forget” about your promise when I get there?” You speak, your tone almost sarcastic.

“Would I ever lie to my favorite client?” – Yeah he definitely would, but your car needs a mechanic now and as big of an asshole Harrison can be, you have to admit he’s good at his work when he wants to be.

“Alright, I’ll try to be there after work.” You finally say, ending the call to look at Zaila who is now sitting back on her chair.

John walks through the cereal aisle, gripping the steel handle as the wheels roll. He wasn’t in such a bad mood now that he left base, with the leave he got, he actually felt more relaxed.

The man would not deny he was more used to walking through the halls of a military base than walking through the long aisles of a supermarket – maybe he’d go for a few drinks after this, not wanting to spend his time isolated at home for too long. John clears his throat and rubs forehead and eyes with his fingertips, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He has the essentials in his cart, some milk, vegetables, juice, meat, rice and the three-in-one shampoo he has grown used to.

As John moves his cart towards the register, he glances at two adults and a child – the boy no older than five years and throwing quite the show as he cries and squirms on the floor while he grips a box with children’s toys. He looks at the adults that seem to be his parents, a man and a woman with worried and irritated look on their faces as they try to calm him down.

Was this the reason he never looked forward to starting a family, ugly temper tantrums? No, that would only be another excuse – Maybe the demands of his job? It would be too selfish to leave a woman whom he’d call his wife by herself taking care of a kid while he was in the middle of god-knows-where.

Had he given up the idea of starting a family of his own? Because it surely seemed late for him to try.

Did he want that life? Was he getting tired of going home to an empty house? He didn’t really know if he could call his house a home, it didn’t exactly feel like the concept of a warm family waiting for him, some kids, a wife and a dog – but at least, no children or a wife would be missing him and suffering while waiting for him to get home. To get back home from a job that has his life on the line between life and death, between doing terrible things to accomplish a greater purpose and getting his hands dirtier than ever.

His bubble of thoughts are popped with a sharp pin as the cashier looks at him and speaks, clearing her throat and almost giving him a dirty look for staying so still while glancing at the family – “Sir, you’re next.” The woman speaks as he looks at her.

“Right, sorry.” The rugged man says as he starts moving the things of his cart to the register.

You didn’t drive to Harrison’s right away after work, you stopped at home and took a shower, changing your clothes and then stopping at the grocery store – It was supposed to be a quick trip but you almost throw your bags on the floor of the store’s parking lot as you notice your rear left tire almost entirely flat.

“Fuck…” you mumble as you approach it, your breath hitches and you try to remain as calm as possible, lowering the grocerie bags on the floor, not caring about them getting dirty anymore.

You approach the tire and give it two small kicks to check how soft it was, it would be impossible to drive to your mechanic with a tire like this.

You knew how to change a tire, sure – your father had shown you a long time ago after a nail punctured one of the rear wheels of his truck. But that was too long ago for you to remember step by step and you knew the mechanic would not pick up if you called him to come here and help you. Even if he did, the man would overcharge you as always and you were not about to tolerate that, not after he promised you a discount to fix what was wrong with the engine.

Opening the trunk of your car, you search for a way to lift the liner carpet knowing the tire tools might be underneath it – You grunt as you lift the heavy box and see the spare tire underneath it. Right as you struggle to lift it a voice interrupts you.

“Need any help with that?” You turn around towards the husky unknown voice you just heard just to see a man standing there with his own grocery bags.

The silence is almost palpable as you look at him.

“Changing a tyre by yourself can be hard.” He says again, you huff after hearing his words –

“Are you suggesting I can’t do it by myself?”

you blurt out, immediately biting your tongue as you realize how rude and bitchy that must have sounded, but before you can even correct yourself the man speaks.

“Wasn’t making any suggestions, miss, just trying to lend a helping hand.” The man doesn’t seem phased in the slightest by the tone you used. He speaks with such eloquence and calmness that you are surprised he didn’t get offended and leave right after you spoke.

“Sorry, I- That was really rude of me.” You say, almost blushing from the embarrassment you just put yourself through with your own words, you didn’t mean to take your frustration out on a man offering his help.

“All is forgiven, miss.” He takes one step closer and looks at the trunk of the car where the spare tire is. What you didn’t know is that he recognized you the moment he heard your voice and saw your face, it had to be you – the girl from the cooking videos he has been watching for the last whole month; yet he was not about to comment on it because if for some reason it actually wasn’t you then it would make things too awkward, he thought.

“May I?” You immediately nod and stop staring.

“Yes- But… I wouldn’t want to bother you though.” He shakes his head and lowers his grocerie bags onto the floor.

“Not a bother at all, miss. I was just heading home. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to change it.” You clear your throat and nod as the man speaks, the embarrassment going away.

“You sure?”

“Quite sure.”

You step aside as he lifts the spare tire with such ease only using one of his arms and using his other hand as he grabs he handle of your car’s toolbox with the other hand.

The man moves to kneel down right in front of the tire and you take a moment to inspect him. By the accent, he is clearly from here. Icy blue eyes and a masculine rugged look, not to the point he’s too intimidating but nearly there. The navy blue t-shirt he wears looks a bit tight on him, he seems older than you by a few years not too many though – you can clearly tell that by the few lines on his forehead and the few grey hairs on his dark brown beard. Last time you saw someone wearing such interesting mutton chops beard with that moustache was during a disney movie.

You try not to stare when the muscles on his arms flex the moment he grips the wheel brace as he loosens the wheel bolts by twisting them.

“You’ve got experience, I reckon.” You say as he carefully aligns the scissor jack under the jacking point of your car, he looks at you and nods with a very small smile.

“Not to brag, miss. Done this many times.” His voice rumbling on his chest, the two of you make some eye contact for a single second and he breaks it by moving the wheel brace to the jack. – “Had any trouble with your car ’fore?” He asks as the tool begins to lift up the car slowly when he twists it.

“I was about to drive to my mechanic’s after he spent three days ignoring my calls, some engine problems.” The man listens to you carefully.

“I believe three day’s enough to know your mechanic might be too irresponsable – Not to intrude with my comments though.” He moves to take out the old tire.

You sigh and nod “He’s an asshole, I know.” Your chuckle makes him sigh and give you a small chuckle of his own as he places the wheel down, shaking his head slowly.

He still can’t believe he’s seeing you in person – Well, that might sound weird but the man has seen too many of your cooking videos to deny it’s you.

“Mind giving me a small class?” You ask, taking a step closer – how ironic, he’s been the one watching your cooking recipes and learning from them and now he’s the one teaching you?

He nods.

“Wanna try?” He suggests and you oblige by grabbing the tool. “This is the lug wrench, right?” You ask and he nods again.

“We call them wheel braces ’ere but yes – It is.” He moves to grab the replacement tire and aligns the holes of the bolt with the lugs and begins to tighten them.

“These are the wheel bolts, you twist ’em with your hands as much as you can ’fore you lower the car with your jack and tighten them again usin’ the brace.” The way he explains it to you almost makes you blush as you are leaning forward and looking at the tire like a child at the aquarium.

You glance at his arms as he lowers the car using the jack again, making that twisting movement that makes the muscles on his arms even bigger, and the veins on his rough hands more noticeable.

The english man tightens the bolts before fully removing the jack from under your car, he lets out a quiet, deep grunt when he gets up again. You help him by grabbing some of the tools as he grabs the old wheel that was apparently pricked by a rusty nail.

“Good as new now, eh?” He says and you realize your mistake after be places the old tire in the trunk of your car. –“I’m so sorry- uh, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Y/N.” That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.

“No need to be sorry. ’m John, John Price.”

You shake his hand, not caring in the slightest about the dust on his hand from manipulating all those tools and both tires – his hand feels rough, calloused as if he’s too used to doing these type of things often, the heavy work.

“Forgive me if this sounds strange but ’m pretty sure I’ve watched your videos a few times. Cooking, right?” John says after your hands separate.

You are immediately surprised, almost in awe and he can tell by the look on your face. You try to keep your jaw as tight as you humanly can – almost as if it would comically fall to the floor is you dared to open it.

“Yeah, that’s… me, yes.” You smile at him widely. “You’ve really watched my videos?” You ask, amused, all your worries go away as his words make your whole week, it’s the first time something like this has happened to you.

“Could say ’m a bit of a fan, actually.” He gives you a smile of his own before he continues talking and looking into your eyes, deeply.

“Wanted to start improving my skills and happened to watch one of your videos, the food I prepared turned out surprisingly well – subscribed ’bout a month ago and… been watching ’em ever since.” That raspy and collected tone of his almost soothes your nerves.

“I’m shocked- I’ve never met any of my subscribers…” You admit with a smile full of excitement.

“Well, ’sppose there’s always a first time, innit?” – there is a comfortable silence after you nod but is broken by John looking back at your car.

“You mentioned there was a problem with the engine, that right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm, it stops sometimes and it can be tricky to start it.” You speak with a sheepish smile and the man crosses his arms as he stands in front of you.

“Want me to take a look?” Honestly? You’d like to talk to him more but you have to get to Harrison’s befoee he closes and you don’t want to keep John here forever, as happy as you are right now. His grocerie bags are on the floor with yours, completely forgotten and you wouldn’t want him to waste his time.

“Don’t worry, I was on my way to the mechanic anyway. Wouldn’t want to keel you here forever.”

“You sure?” John looks at your car then back at you – you give him a nod and he sighs.

“Well… If the engine’s been playin’ games with ya and stops on your way there. Let me know, I mean-” He scrounches up his face in annoyance when the excuse of giving you his number gets too obvious but the sound of the giggle that escapes your lips makes it go away.

“Could use your number for that.” You say quicker than you expected and he immediately smiles, clicking his tongue and taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Right.” John says with that deep husky tone rumbling on his chest and a small smile on his face, almost a shy one.

After getting his number, you glance at his brown boots as he lifts up his bags and gives you a small goodbye nod, you wave your hand at him and smile almost stupidly.

“It was nice meetin’ you, Y/N.” John says and you nod too.

“It was nice meeting you too, John.”

As he makes his way to his own truck, you lift up your long forgotten bags and put them in the backseat of your car before you start the engine and sigh in relief since it didn’t give you any trouble this time.

“Well that was hot…” You mumble with a smile as you reverse the car.

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard (Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be added! ♡)