#I do think I will work in the history field later on - Or I would hope so at least!

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 24

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury

Day 215

Meetings were undoubtedly the worst invention in the history of humanity. Okay, there were some worse inventions but Sy couldn’t think of any, what with having used up all his brain power justifying every decision he’d made in the past year.

“What about the girl?”

Sy clenched his jaw to keep from barking the wrong thing. “Corporal Coleman? What about her?”

He hated the detached tone of his own voice. It was not a tone a man should ever use when talking about the woman he loved.

“The only reason she’s made it this far is because she had excellent marksmanship scores and had the best performance out of all the women during the physical fitness tests but she was completely untested in the field. Seeing now that she was injured within her first week tells me she isn’t cut out for this.”

“With all due respect Sir, she suffered minor injuries where many of my other men would have gone home in a bag. She more than proved herself to be field ready during her time at Warhorse and it would be foolish to exclude her from this next mission and separate her from her squad. Sergeant Fuller’s entire team is thrivin’ under his command.”

Some of the men around the table nodded in understanding but the man at the head of the table pursed his lips. “We’ll take that into consideration.”

Luckily the man to his left didn’t seem to share the same backwards opinion about women in the military and intervened on Leah’s behalf.

“Whatever group is selected will be performin’ a month long trainin' exercise before their mission. I suggest that we allow Corporal Coleman to participate and re-evaluate at a later date.”

“Yes,” the old fucker eventually agreed, “I suppose that would be acceptable.” It was obvious those words tasted terrible coming out of his mouth. “Are there any pain points we need to watch out for? How is she taking orders?”

Sy shifted in his seat, working hard to keep his mind from going to inappropriate places. This was not the time for his dick to go half-mast.

“She obeys them if that’s the question.” It was a half truth but there was no way Sy would give them any ammunition against Leah. She obeyed orders when it mattered, that was the most important thing. There wouldn’t be a repeat of the Niki incident so there was no point in bringing it up.

“Right. That brings us to our next point of attention.”

Sy may or may not have partially checked out after that. The rest of the meeting was marginally better with the knowledge that Leah was going to be given a shot. It didn’t sound like they were giving her a fair shot but at least she would have the chance to prove herself. And the memory of Leah being very good at taking orders.

Day 216

Leah startled as a heavy bag was dropped at her feet, nearly spilling her overpriced latte.

“Damn, Coleman, what’s got you looking like someone just kicked your puppy?”

BJ fell into the seat across from her, causing the chair to creak under his weight. His comment fell short of making her smile but she made an effort to show she was pleased to see him..

“I’m sorry, are you lost, kiddo? Do you need me to help you find your mommy?”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Princess.”

Leaning back, Leah pulled her hair over her shoulder, running it through her fingers. Even beardless, one could not describe BJ as having a baby face but it would definitely take some getting used to.

“I guess it doesn’t look so good if you don’t follow the grooming standards on your first day back from R&R.”

“No it does not.”

It hadn’t even occurred to her that Sy would have to do the same. He’d still been sporting his full beard when he’d left the night before.

“So… Any particular reason you’re just hanging out at the airport like a weirdo?”

That did succeed in making Leah crack a smile. Rolling her eyes, she kicked BJ under the table.

“I was savoring one last decent cup of coffee.”

BJ stole said cup, taking a sip. “You know that thing is stone cold right?”

“Maybe that’s what I ordered,” she grumbled, knowing very well that the cardboard sleeve on her cup was meant to protect you from the heat, not the cold.

She didn’t try to get her drink back. She’d only ordered it to have an excuse to sit on the comfortable bench in the cafe’s dining area rather than out by the doors.

“Do anything interesting while you were home?” BJ asked, taking a large gulp of the coffee, not at all bothered that it was no longer warm.

Leah knew he was fishing for juicy details about her and Sy but she wasn’t in the right headspace to talk about that.

“I got some new ink,” she said instead.

BJ perked up anyway. “No shit? Can I see?”

Leah grabbed her phone, finding the picture and handing it over.

“Looks fucking great, Coleman,” he said after a few moments of close inspection, zooming in and out. “Did you post this anywhere?”

“Uh, no. I just took it for me, why?”

“Oh, you know… your secret relationship might not stay secret for long if anyone spots what’s hanging over the back of that chair.”

Leah snatched the phone out of BJ’s hand, zooming in to see what the hell he was talking about. Sure enough, draped over the back of her desk chair was a very familiar red t-shirt.

“Fuck. BJ you can’t—”

“I know,” he assured, cutting her off. “I know what this could mean for the both of you.”

He raised his hand to his chin only to drop it as he remembered there was no beard left to stroke. After glancing behind him to make sure they were still alone in the back corner, BJ leaned forward on the table.

“This is gonna sound cold as fuck but I’m more worried about Sy than I am you. Sy’s already thirteen years in. Seven more and he gets his retirement which he really fucking deserves after the shit we’ve been through.”

Leah hadn’t considered that. A lot could happen in seven years but BJ was right that Sy losing his benefits after already serving so much time would suck. 

“I don’t know what to do, BJ. The rules are clear about officer/enlisted relationships.”

At the very least, BJ looked genuinely sympathetic.  “How long do you have left?”

He meant how long before her minimum commitment was up.

“About twenty-six months but I was planning to stay on afterwards.” If she didn’t get herself blown up first.

“Have you thought about becoming an officer? Then in a couple of years you guys could say you just started dating.”

She had and she’d already mentally crossed it out.

“I have less than half of an art degree, there’s no way I can possibly get the rest of my credits online from Warhorse.”

“Then you better make sure you get that shit locked up tight because you’ll both be fucked if word gets out.”

When they arrived at the base, the room was filled with the sound of soldiers greeting each other. Man hugs and pats on the back were exchanged all around. Leah’s boys enthusiastically lifted her in the air while the others mostly stuck to fist bumps. 

Their reunion was interrupted by a shrill whistle and every head turned towards Sy. Leah’s breath hitched as she spotted her man standing in the doorway with arms crossed over his chest. His beardless face was no less attractive and just as stern. She didn’t like the way all the tension that had faded from his features over the last two weeks had returned. Leah continued to study him, appreciating how handsome he was in his full uniform, until her eyes fixed on his chest.

“I need team leaders with me.”

As the men followed Sy, a round of whispers erupted around the room.

“What is that all about?”

“Why do they need a briefing? I thought we were all going back to Baqubah.”

“It’s probably nothing. He’s probably just updating them on what has been going on at Warhorse since we’ve been gone.”

Leah continued to stare at the space Sy had occupied moments before.

“Coleman?” Ethan waved a hand in front of Leah’s face. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Leah turned her head, finding three worried faces looking back at her.

“Cap’s uniform,” she said on an exhale.

Jer shook his head, not understanding what she was saying. “What about it?”

“Seriously?” When her voice came out as a panicked squeak, she cleared her throat. “Have you guys forgotten what it’s supposed to look like?”

Ethan’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit. Guys, she’s right.”

“About what?” Jer asked.

It was Rohan who responded for them. “We can’t call him ‘Cap’ anymore.”

The team leaders returned, Sy and his newly earned Major’s rank following close behind.

They gathered around Benjie, eager to hear what their orders were.

“We’re flying out but we aren’t going East. Don’t bother unpacking. We’re lifting off at fourteen hundred hours.”

As Leah ran around the base, she grew more and more worried she wouldn’t find Sy in time. She’d called five times with no answer and was down to only ten minutes before she absolutely had to be gone. He wasn’t in his room, the mess hall or the gym.

As it turned out, he’d been looking for her too.

“Coleman, finally.”

Relief swept over her at the sound of his voice. Though she wanted to run into his arms, she knew that there were eyes on them even if no one was around. She made her way to him at a very normal, not at all inappropriate, speed.

“What’s this?” she asked as Sy handed her a folded piece of paper. 

“My parents' address down in Georgia. If ya ever feel like writin’, send it there and my parents will make sure I get it.”

Leah frowned as she took it.

“Why can’t I just send it straight to you?”

The muscles ticked in Sy’s jaw, fully visible now that he was clean shaven. His non-answer as he looked down at the ground was enough.

“Because you don’t want anyone to realize I’m writing to you,” she concluded, feeling like an utter fool.

A month ago she would never have even considered starting anything with Sy for that exact reason. In the safety of her hometown, surrounded by her friends and family, she’d forgotten all about how he could be the end of her career. The reminder that she could only ever be Sy’s dirty little secret was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head.

“There’s a reason this shit is forbidden, Leah. I had to sit in front of my superiors and defend why ya should be allowed to follow the rest of the team on this trainin’ exercise. If it came out that we were in a relationship, they would automatically assume it was all bullshit even if every word I spoke about your skills was true. If we get found out, they can’t ever know how far back it started. If they look into your history under my command there can’t be any signs of impropriety or favoritism.”

Leah couldn’t help but wonder if he was just saying that to make her feel better. It felt like a cruel twist on the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. I’m not protecting my own ass, I’m protecting yours.

“You said that when our two weeks were over we wouldn’t be apart.”

Sy had to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. Leah’s face was a blank mask but he could see the tears forming in her eyes and could hear the way her voice broke.

“I know. This isn’t what I was expectin’ either. Hopefully we’ll both be somewhere where we can use our cellphones.”

He knew damn well that was unlikely, hence the slip of paper with his parents’ address. He was going back to Warhorse for a few weeks before moving to a still undetermined location. Neither of them knew where they would be a month from then, let alone a year.

“Did you conveniently forget to tell me you were up for a promotion? Even if they hadn’t taken us out of Baqubah, you being promoted would still have meant leaving Warhorse.”

Shaking his head, Sy looked down at the insignia on his chest. “I thought we’d have more time. Those things aren’t automatic at my grade.”

“Right.”

He was losing her. Every wall and defense he’d worked so hard to knock down was slowly being rebuilt right before his eyes and he felt powerless to stop it.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, making sure no one could possibly overhear. “This doesn’t change anything between us. The timin’ is shit, I’ll give ya that, but don’t think for a fuckin’ second that this changes us.”

“How can it not?”

The defeat in her voice broke his heart.

“I won’t lie and say I know how this is all gonna work. Fuck, the truth is I ain’t got a damn clue what to do here. Please, just give us a chance to figure this out.”

Leah blinked back the tears threatening to fall. Sy could tell she was battling the urge to push him away and spare herself further heartache. If she did, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

She shut her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her arms up and down like she was cold. They were silent for so long, Sy almost thought she wouldn’t say anything at all.

Then, in the greatest demonstration of her trust he could ever witness, she looked back up and spoke a whispered ‘okay’.

There was so much more that needed to be said but their time had run out. 

“Coleman, Jesus, we’ve been looking all over for you, girl. We’re moving out.”

Leah quickly took two steps back. Luckily for them, Sy stood between her and Jer as he approached so he didn’t see how close the two had been standing.

“Thanks again, Major. Take care of Aika for me.”

Those shouldn’t have been their parting words. He should have told her he loved her. He should have made it clear that that wouldn’t change even with the distance. Instead, he’d lectured her about why their relationship was wrong when he’d been the one to push for it in the first place.

As he watched her walk away, Leah peaked over her shoulder. Not wasting his opportunity, he mouthed those oh so important words just as she turned the corner.

Moving on auto-pilot, Sy made his way back to his room. After unlocking the door and stepping inside, his foot suddenly slid out from under him. He narrowly avoided falling on his ass by catching hold of the doorframe.

“The fuck?”

He looked down at the large manila envelope which was blank save for his bootprint. Shutting the door, Sy leaned down to pick up the offending item. There was no way it was an official communication of any sort and there was only one person who would bother sliding something under his door.

Sy found a knife, cutting open the top of the envelope and carefully pulling out the contents. The yellow paper had gotten wrinkled from being stepped on but it seemed Leah had had the forethought to protect whatever was inside by putting it between two sheets of rigid cardboard.

Between them, Sy found an expensive looking piece of paper on which Leah had drawn in ink. It was a snarling wolf, the lines of its body bold and sharp unlike the matching pattern on his back which had faded from his shower and the friction of his clothing. She’d signed the image with her initials and added yesterday’s date.

That was when Sy lost it. Though he was tempted to hold the drawing close to his chest, he had just enough presence of mind to put it back in the envelope and set it on the table before sitting on the edge of the bed. There, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, Sy wept.

Day 214

Golden rays of sunlight filtering into the bedroom roused Sy from his deep slumber. Laying on his stomach with his face buried in a fluffy pillow, he almost let himself drift back to sleep but a strange tickling sensation running across his back forced his mind to slowly come back into awareness.

He kept his eyes closed as he took note of his surroundings—the cool air of the room on his naked back, the pitter patter of rain hitting the window, the lingering scent of cedar on her sheets. When he finally remembered where he’d fallen asleep the night before, he was easily able to identify the now familiar sensation of Leah’s marker gliding across his skin.

“What am I gettin’ this time?” he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

She hadn’t done much drawing in the past ten days, preferring to enjoy the time they had together, but she’d pulled her sketchbook out once or twice. The day Sy stayed in one place long enough to buy his own couch he was going to get a couch that pulled out like Leah’s. It was perfect for lazy evenings spent cuddling together.

It had been raining almost non-stop for the past three days, forcing them to stay indoors. Not that Sy was complaining. Any time he could spend with Leah next to him was time well spent.

“I’m drawing Fenrir, it’s a creature from Norse mythology.”

Thinking back to his conversation with Niki about Leah’s drawings being her diary, he couldn’t help but be curious if this particular drawing had a hidden meaning behind it. 

“I feel like I’ve seen the name before but I don’t remember what it looks like.”

“It’s basically a big angry wolf. The short version of the story is that there was a prophecy saying Fenrir would be involved in the demise of the Gods during Ragnarok. They tried preventing this by tricking Fenrir into allowing himself to be bound by requesting that he test the strength of the bindings. Fenrir obviously didn’t want to stay trapped so he requested a sign of good faith by holding the hand of a god in his jaws as they tested the ties. When he realized he wouldn’t be released, he bit the hand clean off. In the end he still broke free, unleashing chaos and devouring Odin before meeting his own end.”

Maybe it was best if Sy didn’t try to read too far into this one. They had enough death, chaos and destruction in their line of work.

“Is the wolf on your thigh supposed to be Fenrir?”

“No, mine is just a normal earth-roaming wolf. They are gorgeous creatures.”

Sy opened one eye, peeking at Leah over his shoulder. “You were team Jacob weren’t ya?”

Once again, Leah was surprised by his knowledge of such a female oriented piece of pop culture.

“Only in the books. He’s kind of a whiny bitch in the movies.”

Sy attempted to keep his body still as he chuckled, praying he wasn’t messing up the lines of Leah’s drawing.

“How many sisters have you got again?”

“I’ve got two older sisters and twin younger brothers.”

Leah paused what she was doing, shifting to straddle one of Sy’s thighs now that he was awake.

“Wow. That must have been chaotic. We outnumbered dad two to one, I can’t imagine if it had been five to two.”

“It was mostly calm until the twins came along. Olivia and Abigail are eleven months apart and were both quiet, studious types. I’m three years younger than Abi and five and a half years older than Jackson and Austin.”

“Are you guys close?”

Seeing as this was the first time she heard all of their names, she could already guess the answer to that question.

“Not really. I mean, the girls and the twins are inseparable pairs but I never got along with the girls growin’ up and the twins were only twelve when I left.”

Maybe his sister had had a point after all. He’d been absent more than he’d been present in his brothers’ lives. He knew shockingly little of who they had grown up to be.

“I guess it’s kind of my own fault in a way. I was so desperate to leave because of how out of place I felt that I never really gave them the chance to show me things could be different now.”

It had been jarring to see the twins with babies the first time. In his mind, he still pictured them both as scrawny, shaggy-haired pre-teens.

“Why did you feel out of place?”

“I was always the odd one out. Even before the twins came along, the girls were always off doin’ their own thing.”

Too often he saw himself as a burden on the family. Like he was the extra mouth to feed and not much more.

“Is the relationship as strained with your parents as it is with your siblings?”

“No, my mama is the sweetest woman. A homemaker through and through. She stayed with us until the twins started school and even then she only went back part-time until I graduated. My dad worked a lot growin’ up but he had this rule that he always had to be home for dinner so sometimes he would come all the way home to eat with us before goin’ back to work for a double shift. The only time he was more present was right after the twins were born. My mama had had a C-section so she needed the extra help while she recovered.”

Leah was pretty sure extra help was appreciated at any point after having a kid, but good for mama Syverson if she could handle the first three babies all on her own. Growing up, people had sometimes told her father that she and Caleb would be happier with a motherly figure in their lives—especially after it became obvious that their dad wasn’t making any effort to date. Sy was proof that having two parents around didn’t magically make a family closer or happier.

Putting the cap back on her marker, Leah moved to lay down beside her boyfriend. Yes, their two weeks were up and Sy was most definitely her boyfriend. It was also their last lazy morning together. That evening, Sy was getting on the red-eye back to North Carolina and Leah was taking the one the following day. He had to be back earlier for various meetings with their superiors and Leah had already booked her ticket which cost too much to change at the last minute.

Sy rolled onto his side, pulling Leah flush against him.

“No picture?”

Leah shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

She had done her best to keep her concerns at bay but they were becoming harder to ignore as what felt like the end-date on their relationship crept nearer.

Now it was D-day and every fiber of her being screamed at her not to let Sy go.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

Sy placed a soft kiss to the space between her brows. “Worryin’. We’ll be okay.”

“You can’t know that.”

Leah pressed her forehead to the crook of Sy’s neck, stealing more of his warmth. They’d decided to stay at the cabin for their last evening together. Unfortunately, the only heat source was the fireplace in the living room and the temperature had dropped overnight.

Sy was only wearing his briefs while Leah was in her panties and a thin camisole. He was absolutely unbothered but Leah was getting to the point where her nipples were so hard she was sure Sy could feel them poking his chest.

“Darlin’, you’re shiverin’.”

He pulled the blanket back over the both of them, rubbing Leah’s arms and back. She could still pick up on the faint almond scent of the beard oil he’d used after his shower the night before. It was a smell that she now fully associated with Sy’s comforting embrace.

Suddenly she was shaking for a whole different reason. There was no way she could risk sneaking moments like this while at Warhorse. Her only cuddles or kisses would come from  Aika. If she had a rough day she would need to take out her frustrations in the gym. When Sy addressed her it would be by her rank or her last name.

If either of them so much as slipped once, it was all over for them.

“Oh, baby girl.” Sy recognized the stiffness in Leah’s body. When Leah became stressed she became tense or jittery and working out was her way of expelling that excess energy. “I’m all in, Leah. No matter what happens, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make this work.”

[breitzbachbea]

Anyways, also GUESS who has a new minor job next wintersemester and will have to become INTIMATELY aware with identifying the building blocks and patterns of German grammar from 1650 until 1950, come hell or high water, yeehaw.

[lattenha]

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?” 

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he. 

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat. 

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you. 

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you. 

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility. 

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts. 

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex. 

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him. 

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives. 

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest. 

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now. 

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart. 

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions. 

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin. 

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer. 

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here. 

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self. 

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“ 

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming. 

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions. 

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.” 

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?” 

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?” 

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer? 

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette. 

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by. 

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40. 

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival. 

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce. 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other. 

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you. 

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that. 

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him. 

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon. 

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him? 

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner. 

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures. 

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises. 

You let out a resigned sigh. 

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open. 

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain. 

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple. 

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again. 

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape. 

“You’re still cute, y’know that?” 

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has. 

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home. 

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit. 

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed. 

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort, 

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.” 

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it. 

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face. 

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin. 

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight. 

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start. 

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question. 

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table. 

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins… 

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting. 

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer. 

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud. 

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…” 

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones. 

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel. 

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts. 

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.” 

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand. 

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair. 

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’ 

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.” 

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back… 

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you. 

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom. 

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers? 

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex. 

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire. 

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him. 

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured. 

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens. 

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?” 

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.” 

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building. 

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion. 

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home. 

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door. 

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.  

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment. 

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape. 

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces. 

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble. 

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events. 

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles. 

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.” 

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone. 

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips. 

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on. 

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips. 

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render. 

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl. 

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.” 

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

Reader as Persephone's only daughter? And she doesn't get into relationships bc of her mother's past as she was kidnapped by Hades?? Like History repeats itself with Luke being so obsessed with her and the reader doesn't know that she'll just end up like her mother

hello, hello! this one is definitely long overdue. i've been very busy with uni, but this ask was very intriguing!!! thank you for sending, anon ♡ (bonus scene at the end lol)

Luke Castellan wasn’t immediately taken by her the first time she set foot on Camp Half-Blood, that much was certain. She was only a topic of interest because she was Persephone’s daughter, promised yet unexpected all the same. He was far too caught up with claiming his own hoard of kleos to entertain ideas of attraction; however, she became a friend soon enough.

“What are you growing?” He asked her during a spring afternoon years ago, so insignificant that a normal person would forget it entirely.

“I don’t know yet actually.” She responded with pursed lips. Her open palms lingered just above the brown earth, colorful beads dangled from her wrists.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

At his silence, she looked up then waved a packet in front of him. She smiled. “Secret stash from Persephone.”

“Now, I’m not really the boss or anything but I think I’ve been here long enough to know the rules.” He perched his forearm against the bark of a tree, leaning his weight against it. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“But you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” She batted her eyelashes sweetly, jokingly. She turned back to her lump of land. “‘Sides, they're harmless… I think.”

He remained silent and observed as a sprout quickly rose from the depths of her plot. A number of curved leaves on top leaning stems dotted the once empty ground. She rose from her knees, dusting off pellets of grass that hitched onto her clothing.

“That's it?” He asked her, sounding very unimpressed. Was this the extent of her god-gifted abilities?

She narrowed her eyes at him as she stretched. “I don’t give a show for free, Castellan.”

“What do you want in exchange, then?” He asked curiously. He wanted to see— witness what Persephone’s little seedling was capable of flowering.

She thought for a moment then shrugged her shoulders. She walked away from him with a wave. “Grow something of your own then we negotiate the terms.”

A few weeks later, he proudly paraded a plant pot all around camp in search of her. Most of the younger kids looked at him a bit judgmentally when he held it up like he was Rafiki and the little thing was his Simba.

She emerged from the greenhouse after several vexingly loud knocks. She looked down at Luke’s outstretched arms, her lips twitching in amusement at the container filled with inch-long two-leaved sprouts.

“Strawberries?” She pursed her lips. She motioned to the fields of berries sprawling to the left of them. “A bit unoriginal considering…”

“Well, you didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to grow strawberries.” He reasoned.

“Touché.” She ceded. She placed a hand over the pot, the sprouts growing exponentially before she took it from Luke's hands. She spent a handful of minutes transferring them into the dirt.

Luke watched silently, interested and intrigued by the alacrity with which she moved.

“Can you look away for a sec?” She spoke suddenly. She turned towards him, all seriousness. “The glaring is pressuring them. They’re a bit self-conscious.”

“Oh.” He looked away immediately, distracting himself instead with the silvers of light that shone through the canopy of branches of a tree not far from him. He listened to her hum as she worked. He couldn't help but return his gaze to her once in a while.

“Done!” She proclaimed excitedly, pulling off her gardening gloves with a satisfied look on her face.

Three strawberry bushes stood before him, taking up residence in what was an empty patch of land mere seconds ago. His lips parted slightly in surprise— it definitely wasn’t uncommon for demi-gods to inherit some of their parents’ powers, but he was startled by how quickly it manifested, especially for botanokinesis.

“Impressed enough?” She crossed her arms with a grin.

“Just the right amount.” He responded casually, returning her smile. He bent down to pick a big ripe berry from the branches.

He bit into it, the juices trickling down his chin. “Sweet.”

He offered the other half to her. She looked down at it skeptically before Luke urged her with a slight little shake from the bundle of leaves at the fruit’s head. She took it into her own hold then lifted it up to her mouth.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

In her iteration of the story, Luke wasn’t merely a stand-in for Hades. He wasn’t simply her captor— he was also her pomegranate. His smiles, his looks, his words, his lies, his charm and his wit were all the seeds she foolishly consumed over the years. She yearned desperately for the tart sweetness he offered and unknowingly caused her own captivity.

Bound, bent and broken: this was the fate of Persephone’s only child.

In the darkness of the night, with the hum of Luke’s faint snoring keeping her senses alive despite the late hour, she wondered to herself briefly: was this how her mother felt?

She paused at the thought. Surely, it was a thousand times worse for her mother— a dread and pain so unfathomable that she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Persephone was innocent; she was tricked and taken advantage of. She, however, was complicit: ignorant at first, but willing to succumb to Luke’s pleas and promises even if she knew the horrors of what he was attempting to do.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispered suddenly, jolting her out of her reverie. His hand moved to rest against her hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles onto her skin.

“Hm,” She hummed absent-mindedly. She turned around to face him, breathing in the scent of sea and sweat that lingered on him— a glaring reminder of what he was getting himself into.

Luke caged his arms around her then pressed a kiss against her temple. "Mine."

"Yours." She responded softly.

He returned to sleep in a matter of seconds, but he held her firmly against him. She couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She didn’t even want to, anyway.

She closed her eyes. Luke’s presence was her prison, and she was insane enough to willingly stay shackled, albeit metaphorically, regardless of how horrific that sounded.

This was her underworld— her own dauntingly lovely elysium.

BONUS scene from my first draft that i didn't continue writing:

“Well, what’s her master plan then?” She asked. “Why kidnap me?”

“You’re Persephone’s daughter.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was enough explanation as to why the leader of a rebellion against the gods wanted to kidnap the spawn of the Goddess of Spring— really, what did he think she was gonna do for him? Grow daffodils and tulips to distract his enemies? It didn’t seem like horticulture proved useful on the battlefield.

“I am not going to grow potatoes and peas for her little revolt, Castellan.” She scoffed.

Of course she knew why she was being held captive. Pretending to be foolish and ignorant never hurt anybody, though. Let him think she was dumbed down enough to bend to his will.

“You’re basically Hades’ daughter.” He continued, essentially bypassing her reply. It was a bit rude, honestly, but the fact that he kidnapped her showed plenty about the state of Luke’s manners.

“Careful what you say, Lukey.” She would’ve wagged her fingers if her wrists weren’t so tightly bound together. “You might just insult another one of the gods.”

Her relationship with her stepfather was… civil yet glacial at best; definitely on brand for him, actually. On her annual winter-break visits to the Underworld, he’d just ignore her for the most part (very understandable, there wasn’t much in common between an eons-old powerful god and a nineteen year old, except the angst probably, but that was a very awkward topic to breach with a father figure). Most of the time, she assumed he just tolerated her because of her mother.

“With you on board, Hades is going to think twice before attacking,” He explained further. He began to pace in front of her. “Your presence might even dissuade him from attacking at all.”

Oh. Oh.

“Sweetheart,” She called him softly with a condescending coo in her tone. “Oh, sweetie. You’re delusional.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

[messydiabolical]

i’d once read a Mass Effect take that has been stewing in my melon ever since, about Wrex and him demanding a cure for the genophage during the war in 3. (I think it was on twitter but I can’t remember for sure. Just the idea of it stuck with me.) The general sentiment was that this was a dick move on his part, that there were “bigger problems” and this wasn’t the time and it was cruel and manipulative of him to put Shepard in that position. He should have helped out first and Shepard would have helped him back once the war was over. A lot of people chimed in agreeing, saying how they stopped liking Wrex after that. It bothered me for a bunch of reasons I didn’t feel I could adequately articulate, but i’m gonna try now. Prepare for my meandering thought style! The governing bodies of the Mass Effect Galaxy have repeatedly proven that they believe themselves superior to other species and know what’s best for everyone. They don’t let all species have a say in the council, always look out for their own species’ interests in so much as it pertains to keeping things as they are, and will happily go along with literal genocide to aid this. They approve of secret police and biological warfare espionage tactics. They weaponise bureaucracy to hide their cruelty behind ‘oh red tape has us bound, sorry uwu’.   I’m going to try to remain pertinent to the Wrex subject but as one great example of these governing bodies ways of dealing with percieved outsiders: The first contact war is a great example of how ludicrous and fascist things are.. ‘It’s ilegal to use this thing so we’re going to kill you for it’ without so much as a heads up. How were humans supposed to know that, exactly? The governing bodies of this place do not care about anyone outside their own self interests. Fall out of line and they will work to end you. Until you prove you might be useful or of interest to them in some way (or a threat). And then of course we later learn the asari were breaking these laws themselves, hoarding this tech to stay superior. Classic. Anyway, back to Wrex. Wrex knows this. Wrex has seen how the krogan are regarded and treated, the dangerous monolith species, outsiders who can never be let in, never forgiven, never given a chance to grow or change. For a long arse time. “But the krogan were getting out of control and also committing genocide, the genophage was a last ditch resort to stop a galactic war” … And it’s been hundreds of years since then. That 'last ditch resort' wasn’t used as a stop gap, a reset to even out the playing field so that new negotiations and relations could be developed. It was used to end the krogan, and has been actively maintained to continue that, ever since. Do you really, truly believe that if Wrex petitioned the council/ world leaders to negotiate reversing the genophage, they’d even let him have an audience with them? And if they did, do you really think these people, with their history and all the shit they pull, would listen and be reasonable? I can already hear the responses, that weaponised bureaucracy (“you raise an interesting point Mr Wrex but unfortunately we are recovering from a war don’t you know, please come back in 300 years for review, we are very interested in discussing this further then!”) Wrex is old, wise and knows exactly what is up. The only way the governing bodies of power were ever going to have a listen, was if he had something they needed. The war with the reapers provided that. And even then, he knew that they wouldn’t listen outright; having Shepard’s voice was a way to get the foot in the door. It makes my heart hurt to think about that honestly; how dehumanising (dekroganising?) it must feel to be the ruler of your people and know that you have to rely on your alien friend to even get someone to listen to you, when what you want to say is an extremely reasonable “hey committing genoicde against my people sucks, stop that now”. Anyway, Wrex was right, this was his one chance to save his people and he took it. Good for him.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Bumpy History - Part 3 (Aitana x Reader)

And here you have it. Little bit of a shorter part but I builds up nicely to the final part which will be out later this week!

The next morning, you and Aitana arrived at the training ground early. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm, golden hue over the field. The rest of your teammates were slowly trickling in, chatting and stretching as they prepared for the day's training session. You and Aitana had been messaging a little the previous evening about what you were going to do today so you couldn’t help but exchange a mischievous glance with the midfielder as Jona explained the drill. The smirk you received in return let you know Aitana was thinking the same thing, it was time to surprise your teammates.

They drill started off as simple back and forth ground passes in a small area to move around, the two of you knocked the ball back and forth to each other effortlessly catching the eye of some of your teammates already. As you moved around the crowded area, your movements were synchronised and you always knew where each other would be, like you could read each other’s minds. You chanced a glance up at some of your teammates around you and caught Pina with her mouth wide open staring at the two of you as her ball zipped past her foot.

Jona called time on the drill, but you and your new passing partner had other ideas, instead of following the rest of the girls for a drinks break, you two decided to start pinging the ball back and forth in the air. "Nice one, partner!" you exclaimed, sending the ball back to her with a dink in the air. Aitana deftly controlled the ball with her chest and volleyed it back to you. "You're not too bad yourself," she replied with a wink.

All your teammates were baffled by the change, it was strange to see you two even work together let alone getting alone so well. They had never seen Aitana interact like this with anyone, let alone with someone she had seemingly avoided for so long. The fact that you were both laughing and joking during training left them in a state of pure shock.

As training continued, you and Aitana kept up the playful banter. You pulled off a fancy flick pass, and Aitana pretended to be utterly impressed, clapping her hands dramatically as she ran passed you onto the end of the ball you just flicked. Your teammates were now openly staring at you both.

At the end of the training session, Jona approached the two of you as you grabbed a drink and giggled about the shock you had caused. "You two seem to be having fun out there," he remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Aitana and you exchanged knowing glances before breaking into grins. "Just trying to keep things interesting, coach," you replied.

Jona chuckled and nodded. "Well, keep it up. It's good to see you both working well together. It makes my life easier when two of my best players are on the same wavelength." You both exchanged as little glance before grinning at the man who patted you both on the shoulder as he walked away.

As you packed up your stuff in the changing room, you couldn't help but giggle at the still shocked expressions on your teammates' faces. You and Aitana weren’t even trying to shock them anymore, neither of you speaking as you put your boots away, but they were all still watching you and mumbling to one another. You took no notice and said your goodbyes as you went to walk out the room, Aitana hot on your heals.

With every passing day, it felt like you and Aitana were breaking down the barriers between you, building not just a partnership on the field but a genuine friendship off of it. And the shocked reactions from your teammates? Well, that was just a bonus.

The game you had just finished had been a tense one, it took your team a while to find their feet but you had managed to get the job done thanks to a beautiful goal from Aitana. As you headed back in through the tunnel and into the locker room, it was quickly filled with a mix of jubilation and exhaustion as your teammates celebrated the hard-fought win. You quickly showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, knowing that you needed to head home soon.

As you exited the locker room, kit bag slung over your shoulder, you were surprised to see Aitana waiting in the hallway. She looked slightly nervous, fidgeting with her phone and glancing your way every so often. You approached her with a smile. "Hey, Aitana. Great game today, thank god for you. We needed that wondergoal today their defence was just so frustrating to try and break down."

Aitana's eyes lit up as she saw you approaching, something you weren’t sure you were actually seeing or imagining. "Yeah, it was a team effort though couldn’t have scored without the amazing ball through. You played really well too, Y/n."

You blushed, the compliment catching you off guard. "Thank you. But as you said, it was a team effort."

Aitana cleared her throat, her nervousness returning. "Listen, I was wondering if, I mean would you like to grab a coffee or something? Only, if you're not too busy that is." She stuttered her way though the question which you couldn’t tell her but you found incredibly endearing.

You were a little taken aback though by the invitation. It was the first time Aitana had made such an effort to spend time with you outside of football. "Coffee sounds great," you replied with a warm smile. "I'm not busy at all."

Aitana visibly relaxed, relieved that you had accepted her offer. "Awesome! There's a café not far from here. We can walk there if you're up for it." You agreed, and together you made your way to the café. The walk was filled with easy conversation, a far cry from the tension that had once defined your interactions.

The café had a cosy atmosphere, and you both settled into a corner booth with your coffee orders. As you sipped your drinks and chatted, you noticed that Aitana seemed more open and relaxed than you'd ever seen her before. It was a pleasant surprise, and you realized that perhaps the walls that once stopped any positive interaction between you two were finally coming down. The conversation flowed and neither of you spoke more than the other, there was equal back and forth and everything was easy to speak about. You had just calmed down from the giggle fit Aitana had sent you in after she told you about her mishap in the kitchen a couple days prior, when she excused herself to use the bathroom.

This gave you a few minutes to think about what was happening and to you it felt like the start of something new and exciting, a real genuine connection and possible friendship with the Spanish midfielder was blooming in your eyes and it had been a long time coming really.

After your coffee date, you both left the café with smiles on your faces. Aitana walked you back to your car, and as you said your goodbyes, she hesitated for a moment. "Y/n, I had a really great time today," she said, looking into your eyes with a warm sincerity. "I hope we can do this again sometime."

You nodded, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. "I'd love that, Aitana. Let's make it a regular thing." With a grin and a brief hug goodbye, you both went your separate ways, looking forward to more coffee dates and exploring the growing connection between the two of you.

[slowbison]

Heyy!! I love your writing and was wondering if I could request a Resident Evil 4, Leon S. Kennedy x male reader. Reader and Leon always had that little competition between them, always trying to be better than the other which lead to them not liking each other. They got sent to various missions together but always ended up fighting with each other on how to do things instead of focusing on the mission. It just didn’t work between them. Additionally, Reader is sarcastic and acts a bit like an a-hole sometimes, flirts with Leon in a joking way and Leon just can't stand that.

After Leon was sent to save Ashley Reader is sent to back up Leon (and Leon didn’t know that so he is kinda mad that they thought it would be a good idea to choose Reader for it) on his mission and after a long and annoying search, he ends up finding Leon in the village. At first, he thought Leon was some sort of villager and attacks him. He pins him to the ground but then realized who he is and reluctantly apologizes which just makes the situation worse between them.

When they find Ashley and then lose her later Leon gets injured badly because he just rushed in without thinking to save Ashley. But he couldn’t and they ended up fighting when the coast cleared. In reality, the reader isn’t mad about the fact that they lost Ashley again. He is mad that Leon got hurt in the process and Leon noticed that the reader was worried about him. That could lead to an angry make-out session. Enemies to lovers type thing

a/n: you plot stuff down like me (T-T)7 except yours makes more sense and less sporadic. for inspo on reader i used baptise/cassidy from overwatch (if ya know the game, i personally am a rein main, love the big guy)

Bottom! Leon S. Kennedy x Top! Male Reader

words: 3.7k

warnings: hand jobs, praising, nsfw, leon is going through it with reader

The air was moist when the car dropped you into the woods. You were assigned as a back up to an agent in ensuring the rescue of the president's daughter as the villagers proved to be much more troublesome than they thought. At first you weren’t interested in the mission, citing it as not challenging enough for your skills. But when they mentioned the agent already deployed was no other than Condor One, you agreed without any hesitation.

Condor One, or better known as Leon Kennedy, was your greatest rival yet amazing partner; if only you two could get along that is. The higher ups had always placed you and Leon as teammates due to the impressive career history. Both were top of the police academy, senses far sharper than the average agents and able to complete missions despite the numerous unknown factors. Which is why you were both often paired up. But what they didn’t know was how much fuel they fed the flames of competition between you two and how long time was spent arguing rather than maintaining focus on the task.

Leon for one, couldn’t stand your arrogance citing the times you would dismiss his suggestions with your own better option or making decisions on your own, leaving him to “pick up your mess”. Much less the many times you were more focused on teasing him or flirting in the middle of an intense situation.

On the other, you found it entertaining to annoy the blonde, enjoying the banter following after.

Worse was when you both started fighting over who gets to open the door first for the other, Chris lost brain cells hearing this story. Least to say that you both always miraculously managed to complete the mission, receiving high praise while the field agents tasked with providing information through both of the men's earpiece quietly cringed inside.

A smile grew on your lips as you made your way into the woods. “Now, where could you be, little puppy.”

The woods weren’t much of an issue to navigate as you walked up to a muddy path that led to what appears to be a desolated home. Cracks formed on the outer shell while flies circled around a heap of trash, possibly dead carcasses. You had been warned that these people didn’t treat strangers from the outside world kindly and kept your guard on as you moved closer.

With a gun in your hand, you entered the home and scanned around the dimly lit room. Blood splattered the wall, trailing to two dead bodies of what appears to be the cultists villagers mentioned from field operators' information. One appeared to be an old man whose throat was slit and the other riddled with bullet holes in the head. Picking up one of the empty shells on the ground, you found that it to be the same as your own ammo — meaning only one thing.

“Heheh, you’re still around here somewhere, huh?” You murmured, a slight grin on your face.

From the countless times you’ve spent working and being with Leon, you were rather knowledgeable with how the man shoots. Partially because you wanted to beat him at weapon handling in the academy, but from the many times your eyes lingered on every move he made.

The way his arms flexed as he held his gun, steadying it against the recoil or when he slightly pouted his lips to focus more on the target while your mind kept wondering how they’d feel if their attention was directed elsewhere…

Needless to say, you consider yourself an expert when it comes to the man and the knowledge proved useful today.

The grin dropped as soon as loud banging followed by heavy footsteps could be heard down the hall. Three rather angry looking villagers came crashing through a door, jabbing their axes and pitchforks at you before charging. You sighed, already having to deal with nuisances and shot at two of their kneecaps causing them to fall on the floor, quickly moving to punching the one still running square in the face — switching to your own combat knife, slitting the man’s throat.

The two villagers staggered their way to you, but you threw the now-dead third villager into them, crashing them both back onto the floor. You watched for a moment as they squirmed on the ground, reloading your gun before popping a bullet in between their heads, sending them to the next life. Sighing as it proved right that this mission wasn’t a match for your skills, but the thought of working with Leon lifted your spirits and made your way out of the home through the back door — marching into the forest.

Passing through the woods once more, going over a shoddy built bridge, you arrived at the main entrance of the village hidden behind a large door. Along the way you found more and more bodies, leading you closer to the man’s possible location. Hiding behind a pile of rocks, you watched as the villagers mindlessly yelled and prayed around a burning cross with a burn man tied.

Not wanting to watch for much longer, you moved further in, crouching as you rolled to hide behind a wall. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you sensed that there was a possible threat around the corner — most likely a villager.

Pausing for a moment to hear any movement made, an opportunity showed itself as the villager peeked at your corner only to be quickly pushed against the wall, gun clicking to the back of their head ready to shoot. You faltered as you realized who was at the end of the barrel, your grip on the gun easing, but a devious smile crawled on your face.

“Guess who, doll.”

The man tensed and immediately broke free from your hold, attempting to kick you at the side, one which you caught in your arm effortlessly.

“C’mon this ain’t no way to greet your partner Leon, dont’cha miss me?” You quipped, the man releasing his foot from your grasp. Leon huffed, moving back to peeking behind the wall, eyeing the villager’s for any reaction to the sudden noise.

“Just my luck I had to be paired up with you, was everyone out on break or what.” He spat, turning to finally address you.

Out of everyone they could have possibly sent out as assistance, he didn’t understand why they would send someone barely qualified to rescue the president's daughter. It just had to be a joke. You softly laughed, shaking your head at the man.

“Ouch, that hurts to hear Lee. I think we make quite the team, yeah? So long as you follow my lead, of course.”

Leon felt himself slowly losing his sanity the more he listened to you talk and moved to hide behind another home, you trailing after him. The first meeting didn’t seem to be going very well as the man decided to ignore your existence as he ran past homes, only turning to glare at you to ensure you were still real, smiling and waving as he turned.

So your brilliant mind decided that it was time to hit him with the old Y/n charm as you adjusted your clothing, wiping at the imaginary dirt. Clearing your throat and moving closer, whispering softly, “If it’s anything worth, you look great. Even if you got a little dirt on ya cheek.”

“Would you shut up for one second while I concentrate?” Leon hissed. You grinned, enjoying his reaction.

“If you’re having trouble, why don’t you leave this to me, doll? I’ll get us outta this shithole quick.”

“I don’t need your help, just shut up and stay-“

You quickly wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulder, pulling him close to your chest and fired your gun at the villager that had silently crept onto him — body falling lifelessly to the floor.

Leon snapped his head at the body before turning to meet your gaze on him, a sly smirk slowly spreading. “This is the part where you say thank you, sugar.”

The man grumbled before pushing you down, firing at the man on the floor who began convulsing, sprouting tentacles from his head. Ensuring the man was dead, Leon turned to face you with a smirk on his face.

“Guess we’re even now, huh darling?”

Your eyes slightly widened as the man referred to you with a pet name, something he never does and by the look on his face, he must’ve realized what he said. Though you could barely see it, a hit of red dusted his cheeks as he hid himself from you. You were about to tease the man some more when you heard the sound of many villagers walking in your direction, probably from the sounds of your arguing and guns.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our little chat later, love. Maybe we could go out to dinner after all this.”

“I’d rather play bingo with these people than having to go on a date with you.”

“Oh?, never said it’d be a date, but if you insist.”

Leon let out an annoyed huff as he began firing at the villagers appearing, alternating between his combat knife to reserve ammunition. Overwhelmed by the sheer amount, you began busting through homes and fired at ones that broke in. The real challenge being a chainsaw wielding maniac that absorbed bullets like a sponge, barely reacting except for some staggering here and there.

Soon, the battle was over as many of the villagers lay dead at your feet as the last one standing was the chainsaw man who collapsed to the floor, blood painting the ground.

You and Leon shared a long stare as you both caught your breath from the long fight. Gaze landing on his lips while he scanned over your body before landing on your own mouth. You felt yourself pull closer to him and licked your lips while the other stayed still, eyes still focused on you. Only for the moment to be ruined, just as you were so close to him that his field operator Hunnigan, called asking for a progress report on the mission. You groaned as the blonde pulled away, speaking to the woman before turning to face you.

“Let’s go, they’ve got Ashley trapped in some big building up ahead.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with. I’ve got a date to attend after this.”

Leon let out a defeated sigh and walked off, following the dirt path as you joined him at his side, chatting as you both dealt with more villagers. Though the talking stopped as you both ran into a tied up Spaniard who you later learned his name was Luis after being thrown into a wall and awakening tied up in a room.

A bit of jealousy flared within you as the man, eyes lingered far too long for your liking on Leon. Feeling dissipating once the man ran off, throwing the key which you caught and removed the chains from your hands as well as Leon’s. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to befriend that man or eliminate him as a possible contender for Leon.

Either way, it didn’t matter as you and Leon continued the search for Ashley after traversing the village, buying items from a strange hooded man, fighting an overweight mutant pet fish and finally arriving at a church where it’s believed to imprison the woman.

The first encounter, much like your own with Leon, was a short fight that ended with her screaming before calming down and thanking you both for rescuing her.

“I’m so sorry for attacking you. I-I thought you were one of them.” She said softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Yeah we look like decrepit old men and got the whole cultist gear going for us,” You scoffed, the woman meekly apologizing once more. Leon punched your shoulder and moved to place a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about him, he’s just an asshole. We’ll get you home, promise.”

Ashley gave a faint smile and nodded, seemingly feeling a little bit better at his words. You huffed, turning to walk out the church doors only to shut them at the sight of a large mob of villagers outside.

“If you two are done gossiping about me, we’ve got company.”

Leon rolled his eyes, warning Ashley to carefully follow them and equipped his gun. You pushed open the doors, alerting the mob that began shouting — a fight ensued.

The mob proved to be overwhelming as your group slowly backed into a corner after making it outside, forcing you all to run for cover. Ashley desperately tried to keep between you and Leon, but was caught by a few villagers that dragged her back to the crowd. A shrill scream was all you heard as they ran off with Ashley, most likely to another building to imprison her in.

“Ashley!” Leon yelled, aiming for one of the villagers that held her arms. You quickly turned to look at the man, alternating between hand-to-hand combat and firing your gun at villagers surrounding you. Your eyes widening as one of the knife wielding villagers rushed to impale the unsuspecting man.

“Fuck, Leon! Watch out!”

Leon turned to dodge and hissed as the blade struck the side of his torso, blood gushing from the wound. Swiftly roundhouse kicking the villagers around you, you went to pick up the man and ran as he fired shots at the mob chasing.

You both managed to lose the horde after hiding in a dense thicket, holding your breaths as the villagers ran over your head. Your arm wrapped around the injured man’s shoulder while the other held out a gun. Once the sounds of the horde began to die down, you directed your attention back to the man who let out soft groans of pain. A mixture of worry and anger swept over you as you helped him to his feet.

“What the hell was that Leon!” You spat at him, putting an arm around his waist, helping ease his balance. “You could’ve gotten stabbed! Use that damn head of yours smartass.”

Leon grit his teeth in anger before letting out a painful hiss. “Our mission is to save Ashley no matter the cost, you should’ve chased after them instead of being here, asshole.”

“Fat chance we’ll save her if we both get hurt and I’m not going to leave you here bleeding out.”

“Since when did you care about me?”

“I’ve always cared, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Goddamnit, you’re always so hard to tell. I can never figure-“

You crashed your mouths together, teeth clacking. Leon let out a surprised noise but he didn't let it deter him from returning the kiss — threading his fingers into your hair, licking into your mouth. The kiss turned increasingly desperate as you pulled him close, not wanting to separate from each other’s lips for even a moment. Though eventually, the lack of much needed air forced you apart, bumping your head against his as you stared into his eyes.

“Can you figure that out, puppy?” You quipped, trialing your hands over his ass, kneading the mound in your hands.

Leon pressed himself against your chest and hovered his lips over yours.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time talking, you decided that your body could do it for you. Attacking his lips once more, tongues dancing together as you pressed him against a tree. Slotting your leg between his, feeling the blonde’s own hardness grind down on you. Leon’s soft muffled moans slipped past the gaps in the kiss, locking his arms behind your head to steady himself as he humped your leg.

The sound of the forest drowned in the background as the kiss got more heated, lips swollen, breathing heavy against each other — mind swimming in fog lustful daze. Trailing from his lips to his neck, you marked the man, leaving dark marks littered on his pale skin.

Leon clasped a hand on his mouth, hoping to suppress the drawled out moans and whining as he continued grinding on your leg.

“Shit, ah- not enough, need more please,” He whined, digging a hand into your shoulder before hissing at the pain from his side, blood still seeping into his clothes.

“Take it easy there doll. I've got you, I’ll make it quick alright?”

Leon groaned and nodded, pushing himself onto the tree — shoots of pain and pleasure coursing through him. Not wanting to prolong his suffering, you worked off his belt along with your own and brought the hard shafts together after freeing them of their confinement. Both letting out a soft groan as you started off with gentle stroking that got increasingly faster and tighter. Thumbing over the slits, letting the precum act as lube, making it

Leon threw his head back and arched his back, feeling the pleasure overwhelm the pain from the wound festering at his side.

“Yes, fuck yes, I’m close k-keep going please.. ah!”

Denying the man felt unacceptable, especially when he was begging so nice just for you. A satisfied grin emerged from your face as you continued working on bringing you both to climax.

“You look so damn pretty right now doll. Can’t wait to see what you’d look like when I fuck that tight ass of yours.” You panted into his ear, tugging at your cocks in your hand, leaving the blonde a sobbing mess in his hand.

“You’ll be good for me won’t you? I’ll make sure you can’t walk right for a week.”

A shudder traveled up Leon’s spine at the thought of returning back to the country only to be fucked into oblivion, feeling the ache of your thrusts all week. The fact it would be from his own rival no less, one that he swore up and down to never get involved with unless forced to. He didn’t know what was worse, the idea that he wanted nothing more than to submit to the same man that frustrated him to no-end or that is exactly what he felt missing in all the interactions shared with you.

Leon’s moan became louder as he started realizing the feelings he refused to acknowledge and buried his head into your neck, blush spreading across his face.

“I know you want it darling and I’ll make it a dream come true, now come for me.” You whispered into his ear, tightening your hand even more that proved to be enough for the man to spill.

The blonde concealed his broken cries into your neck as he came, coating your hand before dripping to the ground. You soon followed after and gently jerked the last few spurts of cum, stopping to wipe your hand on the tree, tucking you and him back into its restraints.

Leon panted heavily against your neck, heart rate dropping as he caught his breath. You placed soft kisses along his neck, moving your head over his.

“I’m serious when I say this Leon, let’s get that dinner and make it a date. I want us to be more than just.. rivals.”

Leon bit his lip in thought, conviction flicking between his eyes as he stared into yours. Gaze softening before speaking, “Alright then, but I’ve had enough seafood right now. I can still smell that thing’s breath.”

You laughed, bringing up a hand to rub a gentle thumb over his cheek. “I know this killer place downtown with a nice view, no seafood menu too.” You murmured, removing a strand of hair from his lips.

Leon softly smiled and leaned into your touch. “I’ll hold it to you then.”

A laugh escaped from both of you, only stopping when Leon hissed in pain, eyebrows furrowed as he bit back a groan. For a small moment, you both forgot that the man was still injured from a knife earlier and you quickly worked on fishing out some miraculous herbs. You weren’t too sure how they always helped heal such wounds, but it was the least of your concerns so long it worked. Digging out a large bandage to wrap around his torso, Leon stifled any pained noises.

You were slightly worried as the wound wasn’t anything deep, but it was a contender for possible stitches or better treatment than you could provide. Just how did the man ignore such pain during the heated moment shared between you two was beyond you. Unless..?

“Say you got a thing for pain or something?” You mused, a grin forming on your face as the man’s face flushed.

“What? No! I’m just used to getting hurt sometimes, this is nothing.” He huffed, pushing himself off the tree and adjusted his clothes, avoiding your pointed look.

“Is it also why you like it when I throw you on the ground back at the academy?”

Leon grit his teeth and shook his head, refusing to speak anymore unless he was to give away how he truly felt about being manhandled.

“Quit speculating and let’s get back to saving Ashley, again.”

You quietly laughed and made your way out of the thicket, returning back to focus on the operation. Though your mind couldn’t help wandering back to the man at times as you ran up to the new location they hid the girl in. Wanting nothing more but to end it quickly so you could spend more time with Leon than slaughtering villagers and cultists, even if you were good at it. A determined look set across your face as you watched from the door Leon helped free Ashley from her chains.

I’ll make sure we get out of here. No matter the cost.

a/n: yeah the reader is slightly psychotic when it comes to Leon at the end. i had thoughts of making a part two of this, but not all that sure. regardless of that, hope y’all liked this :]

if anyone’s interested, here’s a rough cut dialogue that i didn’t use.

“Think that merchant guy sells lube? Rather not hurt ya while we fuck doll, I can get pretty rough.” You grinned, watching the man’s cheeks burn.

“We are not fucking during a mission!”

“Damn, that was on my bucket list.”

Leon gave you a questionable stare.

“What? Why do you- forget it, I don’t want to know anymore.”

“C’mon, it’s a pretty good list and I just thought up a few more of what I could add.”

up next: reader request! Rocket x Male Reader. rocket isn’t fond of new people, more importantly a stranger that he’s to fight alongside with, but eventually comes around to you.

[dostoyevsky-official]

Struggling as a single mother in 1967 to raise a son on scant funds while teaching 10 college courses a year, Helen Vendler realized that “the only way I could make my life easier was to give up writing” — something she couldn’t face. " ‘They can’t make me,’ I said to myself in panic and fear and rage. ‘They can’t make me do that,’ " she recalled in an essay decades later. “I suppose ‘They’ were the Fates, or the Stars, but I knew that to stop writing would be a form of self-murder.” As she had done before and would do again, Professor Vendler found a path through that crisis. And soon she published the second of some 30 books of poetry criticism she wrote or edited while becoming one of the most influential and esteemed figures in her field. [...] “I believe poetry is for everybody,” Professor Vendler, who was still writing and publishing essays, said in an interview for this obituary as her health was failing. “Helen understood that all poets needed what she did so they could take the next step,” said Jorie Graham, a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet who had barely heard of Professor Vendler when she reviewed Graham’s earliest work for The New York Times in the early 1980s. “I encountered the most lucid account of what I was doing that I could ever hope for,” Graham, who became a friend and Harvard colleague, said of those first reviews. “She certainly taught me right away that there was more to a poem than I could fathom on my own.” Seamus Heaney, the late Nobel Prize-winning poet whose work Professor Vendler championed early on, once said that “she is like a receiving station picking up on each poem, unscrambling things out of word-waves, making sense of it and making sure of it. She can second-guess the sixth sense of the poem.” “I do understand, I think, what it feels like to be a poet, even though I’m not one,” Professor Vendler told the Harvard Gazette afterward. “I was born with a mind that likes condensed and unusual language, which is what you get from poetry.” [...] At Emmanuel College, from which she graduated summa cum laude, Professor Vendler decided against studying literature — taught there, she wrote, “as a branch of faith and morals.” Majoring in chemistry, she found science crucial to her intellectual development. “I think it’s the base of everything I do,” she said in a 2004 National Endowment for the Humanities interview. “You have to be exact in all your writing in science: your flow chart has to go from beginning to end with all the steps accounted for, and all the equations have to balance out. Evidence has to be presented for each step of your reason.” [...] At Harvard, Professor Vendler also taught a celebrated core course, “Poems, Poets, Poetry,” which was aimed at non-humanities majors. “I thought — and still think — that all people would like poetry if they were only brought up with it and shown how easily it is entered into and what enormous solace it has to offer,” she wrote in a 1994 essay. Poems offered vital comfort and support to her as well. “Helen needed poetry to live by,” Graham said. “She fashioned and honed her moral sense not through the church, but through the church of poetry — the whole history of poetry. I can’t imagine a poem that she didn’t know.”

Helen Vendler, a towering presence in poetry criticism, dies at 90

[bellarkeselection]

Halstead’s Favorite Duo

Anonymous request - Can you do a Jay Halstead x reader, where they are married and she is part of the K-9 unit? Maybe they called her in or something to help chase down a suspect.

My boots hit the ground as fast as I could to keep up with my first best friend for I wish I could say my whole life. Yet I have only known this dog since I joined the K-9 unit that works with the Chicago Police Department. My German shepherd dog ran forward on the heels of the man that was running from us. The man we were after was a drug cartel that they had been hunting for months. “Ryder! Attack.” I commanded him before he launched himself through the glass store window.

The guy we were chasing tried to run to the back of the store but he tripped over a shopping cart giving Ryder the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. Stepping over the broken window glass I draw my gun from my belt pointing it at the guy. “Y/n, Ryder! Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, Jay. Ryder ain’t too bad at his job. Ryder, come here.” I smiled seeing my husband coming around the corner lowering his gun when he saw the situation.

Ryder snarled at the guy on the ground keeping his tail still when we were out in the field. Otherwise he would let it actually wag when he was happy. Jay bent down on a knee after putting his gun away, grabbing the guy off the floor and handcuffing him. “You’re under arrest for smuggling drugs across the border. Take him back to the station.” He handed him off to one of the other local officers.

“You did good, boy.” Dropping down on a knee in front of my dog he started moving his tail wagging it since it was just me and Jay alone with him. “So how much paperwork does this leave you with tonight. I can order take out if you want if you’ll be home later.”

He shakes his head walking back to one of the squad cars having me and Ryder following his heels like we did every morning when we all had to leave the apartment. “Hailey said she would take care of it. I actually had something else in mind.”

“Oh really. Care to share what you had in mind?” I smirked knowing that he wouldn’t give it up even if I asked the question but I did it anyway.

Jay sent me a glare. “It didn’t work on our first date and it still won’t work now.” I nudged him and he chuckled before Ryder barked signaling that he wanted into our conversation.

“That means he doesn’t want to be left out of whatever mystery thing you have planned. And you agreed to take me in every way that includes my doggy.” I responded to him.

Jay and I had gotten married a few years ago. I had just been promoted to chief of my unit. Vioet was the man to help me get it after he had seen my history with Ryder and the amount of cases we helped crack down compared to the other k-9 unit members. Jay opened the door letting my dog jump into the backseat shutting the door once he was in. We both got in the car and removed our bullet proof vests and he started the drive looking my way a few times. “Do you remember the day we met?”

“Of course I do. I got injured on an assignment and the doctors at the hospital your brother Will works at wouldn’t let Ryder inside my room. So he started losing it and breaking things. If it wasn’t for you I was sure Ryder would have bit Will’s leg.” I snorted running a hand down my face thinking back on that night.

Jay smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah but he and I have the same goal to protect you…and love you.”

“So where are we going exactly? I mean it’s kind of strange that you are asking about the day we met. We’re already married. What else could we possibly do?” I shifted in my seat bouncing up and down with the tension of waiting.

Jay didn’t stop the car for another few minutes, parking the car outside of a house that was painted a light blue on the outside and it had a gray roof. He let Ryder out of the backseat first before coming over to my side and helping me out. “The surprise is that this place is now ours.”

“Are you serious, Jay!” I gasped covering my mouth with my hands spinning around to face him since he was standing behind me.

He slipped the keys in my hands. “It’s our. I am not lying to you. I got it all set up a few weeks ago. That way we aren’t cramped in an apartment and this gives Ryder a space to run when he wants to.”

“I love you.” I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him slowly.

Ryder barks running towards the front door just as Jay wraps his arms around my waist tugging me closer to deepen the kiss until he breaks it not being able to hold in his chuckle. “I love you too…and Ryder seems to approve.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[kaeyachi]

NEW CANON KAEYA TIDBITS FROM THE KAEYA HANGOUT PT. 1

The heavy lore post will be posted later! These ones are just more on his personality, likes and dislikes, and brief history hehehe

SPOILERS BELOW!!

I'm doing things in bullet point form coz wow there's a lot

Was the gentle and polite child! Also frequently got sick. Addie frequently took care of him in those times hehe. Is it possible that this is because of his experiences prior to getting to Mond? Travelling as a child would have made him vulnerable to tougher weather and rapidly at that. I doubt that food comes easy too. Additionally, HE WAS LEFT IN A STORM. I still think Kaeya is gentle and polite, though he definitely gives the face of charming and sly (if it benefits him and it works then might as well keep it going!)

Kindness is so inherent in him that he automatically does kind acts. He only acts like he has an ulterior motive, and tbh? I bet that act is only to keep people away. I think I made a oneshot about this saying his biological father may be worried about this tendency? Or something similar. Worryingly enough, Kaeya clearly has a hard time accepting words of affirmation from literally everyone. Heartbreaking to see in action.

Diluc is a menace, asking Kaeya to help him in his mischief, tsk. Kaeya apparently also helps Diluc in the punishments he receives. Kaeya ended up doing the most of it :( (what are the odds of Kaeya also doing Diluc's paperwork while said redhead was out on the field? What if the reason Kaeya wasn't with Diluc and Crepus during that one fateful 18th birthday because he was covering for Diluc's shift...). Tbh? Kaeya never stopped covering for Diluc. Even now, he is still covering for Diluc (DKH).

This one set off alarms in my mind. Kaeya was apparently not a very good liar when he was younger. I now definitely think that Crepus knew Kaeya lied about his origins. The question is, did Diluc know Kaeya was not a strong liar before their fight? Or did he remember afterwards and was immediately faced with even more guilt?

He might actually have a sweet tooth! Dear god look at the number of desserts he ordered. Do note that Death Afternoon is a mixture that lessens the bitterness of Dandelion Wine. Additionally, Kaeya wasn't interested in wine when he was younger, he only grew into it because it reminds him of home after he left :( The Cider Lake drink is also sweet! And I'm guessing plain chicken mushroom skewers weren't sweet enough, so he decided to add fruits to it. I THINK CREPUS ACCIDENTALLY GOT HIM INTO LIKING ALCOHOL AFTER CREATING THE CIDER LAKE DRINK LMAO. Crepus suceeding in preventing alcohol intake from one child and ended up giving it to the other

Fairly sure he was being flirted on here by an entire group of mercenaries and just didn't realize which would make things extremely funny. They saw him and immediately went "we need to see that body in the dance floor ASAP". What if he doesn't realize he is being flirted on until he is slapped in the face with a confession? It's also funny if he flirts up a storm and not realize people are flirting back lmao

So I was right... he was not kicked out. He moved out on his own. Diluc is fine with him frequenting Dawn Winery, expects it even (lol my short 1 shot makes sense now). The staff keep asking him to come back and visit more frequently. Adelinde says that Kaeya is always part of the family. They become so happy when Kaeya comes back, it's like a weight is lifted off of everyone's chests. IT'S KAEYA WHO KEEPS SAYING HE'S A GUEST AND SEPARATING HIMSELF OUGH. He's the one trying to stay away after all :((( Let's summarize this: Kaeya was the sickly, quick to bruise, kind, gentle, and polite child who everyone in the staff (and Diluc) adores and still treats like he is their baby, but said baby of the family KEEPS LEAVING. Go home Kaeya!

Klee keeps looking for Kaeya! And Kaeya reads her bedtime stories!!! Hearing her voice ask where Kaeya was broke my heart, I think I'd like that used for angst purposes. Kaeya is once again letting a mischievous pyro user get away with causing mischief. Kaeya you enabler lmaaaoooo. Kaeya frequently rescues Klee from solitary confinement, done so enough times that Klee now does the same for him (I bet she thinks Kaeya is in solitary confinement whenever he's busy doing paperwork). Not to Kaebedo/Albekae you guys (I am Kaebedo/Albekae-ing you guys), but I'm fairly sure Kaeya and Albedo spend so much time together with Klee. Again, frequent enough that Albedo has tons of drawings of Kaeya (the 3 brushstrokes is a popular meme, but it actually is just a way to say that he has drawn Kaeya a lot. Bet he could draw Kaeya with his eyes closed haha). HE GOT THEM MATCHING GIFTS THATS ADORABLE

Speaking of gifts, he's a great gift giver! He really listens to people's needs and wants. What a thoughtful man (Diluc was right in his letters in hidden strife though. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF KAEYA). Speaking of, I'm guessing Kaeya is rich? Because I'm fairly sure the gifts were bought with his own pocket money and thus the huge amount of travel funds remaining (the gifts are expensive, surely it should have put a dent to the said funds had he used them)

THAT IS ALL FOR NOW, I MIGHT MAKE A PART 2 BECAUSE I WANT TO TACKLE MORE STUFF BUT THE PHOTO LIMIT GOT TO ME

[cowboyjen68]

Hello Cowboy Jen! I was wondering if you had any advice for me

Here’s the situation- I’m a young lesbian (I’ll be 17 going into college) and I’m going to study geology. I’m assuming my classes and later on my work environments are going to be mostly men since geology is a male-dominated field. Any advice for being in spaces without very many women? And picking a different field’s not a very good option either, geology’s been my obsession since I was five and I doubt I could give any other field as much attention and focus.

When I was DEAD SET on being in the DNR or a Forest Ranger or some kind of Park worker I was in my tweens and early teens. I loved the idea of working with people and animals and outside and getting to use my hands and my knowledge of land and history. Then some Jack Ass at the Corps of Engineers station I volunteered at told me women couldn't really do the job right and it was too dangerous and I lost confidence. I stopped going and didn't reapply for the Mayor's Youth Parks program I had worked at for two years. I just left the idea behind. I see now all the older women park rangers that are around and read stories of women like my current boss who was a naturalist for years in our county. I work at a nature center almost entirely staffed by strong women with the exception of the CEO, the marketing guy and one outreach guy. If I had seen any of these women in my teens i would have said "heck yeah women can do this".

You are going to be that leader, that beacon. That is a thought to keep in your pocket on hard days.

The truth about working with men is, in general, they don't really care and they kinda just feel awkward. They lack social skills around women so they end up saying the dumbest stuff. I am not saying men can't be total pains in the ass or feel threatened by you being around, they absolutely can. At the end of the day we are all human and women are 50% of the population so at some point they have dealt with women in class or at a job.

Mostly just start off with giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Saying stupid stuff to try and be funny is not the same as harassment or hate. If you don't feel offended or insulted or threatened don't try feel like you are because you think you are supposed to be.

Look them in the eye, do listen to those who have good things to share, teach or discuss. Don't dismiss men for being men. Just as many humans, they want to share what they know and tell you what they have learned. I have been taught so much by the men I work with at the farm but I had to tell myself to listen and not just paint them in my brain as being bossy or mansplaining.

Don't shy away from questions when you need help. Ask when you need to ask and thank them for helping when they do. If you are interrupted by them say "I am not finished, please wait your turn" or something similar. Stand up for your right to share what you know or to get more information when you require it.

Basically, think of men as neutrally as possible until one proves he is to be avoided or ignored. Listen to your gut if you feel unsafe or degraded and keep notes on that behavior. If you must, tell your professor or a dept head if you feel like the bad actor will continue or possible endanger you.

Once you learn your trade you can recruit other women and share your love of your job/degree and some day it will not be more men than women around you!

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 4

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Mentions of mental health and depression, angst, fluff

₊˚✩⊹

Two days have passed since you left Castle Town, you and the chain just crossing the threshold of Hyrule Field, but not quite in Gerudo Valley.

The terrain was still slightly grassy, though the grass itself was yellowing, the land being very dry. The sun has long set, so you anticipated settling down soon, as you could feel the energy shift that has happened in the past couple days. Everyone was tired.

“Let’s setup camp under that large tree. Wild, why don’t you and the traveler start setting up dinner. The Captain and I can do a quick scout to see any possible encampments near us or any danger we need to be aware of. We should be back before dinner.” Time announced, motioning Wars to follow him.

You asked around the group seeing if there was anything you could assist with, but no one seemed to need anything for the moment. With a sigh, you propped yourself up against the tree and opened up the book Shad gave you. You might as well be productive.

Flipping through the book, there wasn’t much that related to your quest. Sure, some interesting tidbits about Hylian history and wars, but nothing of note. You halted your flipping at the page labeled: Other Worldly History: Ancient Runes and Magic. 

Bingo.

Hyrule has been known to be a connection between various cultures, nations, and worlds. From the beginning, Hyrule contained loopholes and magic that could alter worlds, change the flow of time, and access completely disconnected dimensions. Nobody has successfully accessed said dimensions, but there are plenty of theories and magical concepts that support the possibility of accessing them.

A particular religious group, according to rumors and first-person accounts, have been seen performing rituals and dark magic that provides a window to a dimension. Though the group itself has no name or distinguishable faces or names, a few colleagues have been able to record the rituals and notes on how their procedures work.

You continued skimming the page, the author noting the black garb that the members wore and possible translations of the language. Everything was up in the air though. Flipping the page, you notice that there are diagrams on how the rituals are performed and how you could access “Hylia’s Mirror” through a very complex and specific execution of moments and chants. 

The ritual began with placing your palms on the ground, or as the book liked to call it: “Connecting to Hylia’s body”. Weird.

You closed your eyes and lifted your palms, pointing out two fingers and drawing a large triangle around you, all sides and angles congruent.

You opened your eyes and tried to follow along with the specified hand signals, but you messed up halfway through. This was gonna be harder than you thought.

The smell of dinner was tantalizing, so you shut the book and placed it in your pack, deciding to play wizard again later once you've eaten. You don’t think you’ve eaten since you left Castle Town, as you all didn’t really stop walking unless taking a few hours to sleep.

You plopped down beside Four, leaning against him. He was sharpening one of his shorter blades, no doubt it being overused the past few weeks in close combat.

“Saw you playing wizard over there. Anything helpful?” he asked, eyes not leaving the blade.

You hummed. “Some dark magic stuff, lotta weird shit. I was too hungry to actually understand anything,” you said, looking at how Four’s fingers held the blade and handled it. 

“I would help you, but I'm considered useless in the reading aspect. Can barely read signs if I'm honest. Only know the basics.” he said, stopping his sharpening and placing the blade back into its holster. 

You were about to mention something about his comment when Wild called out to dinner, just in time for Wars and Time to return. 

“Y/n over ‘ere was being magical and doing magic spells,” Twilight chuckled, gesturing at you “Chantin’ some gibberish, I tell ya.” he laughed, you rolling your eyes in response. 

“Yeah, yeah. Mock all you want, but at least I’m getting somewhere. I think?” you paused. 

“We can leave the demonology till later, let’s eat. I know you guys are starving, and I made heaps of food for tonight.” Wild smiled, handing out bowls to everyone. Does he carry a whole fucking kitchen on him?

~

“Who’s game did you play first, Y/n?” Wind asked, mouthful of food.

You pondered for a second, having to recollect your memories.

“Ummmm…. I think it was Skyward Sword, so Sky’s yeah. I think I was like 8 or 9.” you said, taking in another spoonful of rice. 

“I miss being a kid, at times. I remember not having to worry about anything, just when I was going to play with my friends or what flavor of cake I was going to get for my birthday. Getting older changes you, for the better or worse, I honestly don’t know.” You said, looking over at everyone.

“I feel like i’ve gotten older faster since I first joined you guys, in a sense. I can’t really explain it. I guess adventuring, or rather being a hero forces you to grow up faster…” You trail off, looking at the fire.

Time pipes up “I agree with that, as I first left the forest when I was seven. The hero’s duty seemed inevitable, regardless if I postponed it or not.”

Wind nods, “I had to leave Grandma when I was 12, to save my sister Aryll. Even when I defeated Ganondorf and returned home, it didn’t feel the same… I wasn’t a kid anymore.”

You scootch up to him, letting him lean against your side. “I know I can’t change your past, Wind, but I just want you to know that I was there with you for every step of the way. Every nick or scratch you got, I made sure you were not alone. I’ll never leave you alone, any of you, whether or not I’m physically here with you or not. You’ll always feel me with you, in here,” You point at his chest. 

Wind sighs sadly, “I love you Y/n.”

You sigh in contentment, “I love you too, squirt. You’ve always been like a little brother to me.”

“Call me squirt again and I’ll shank you in your sleep~” Wind said in a sing-song voice, but you knew he held no malice. You just chuckled at his “threat”.

“It’s so strange to me how we all felt you there with us, Y/n. Even if we didn’t hear you most of the time, you always gave us warmth.” Wild said.

“You guys gave me warmth too, and were there for me in my darkest days. Even just accompanying you for a few hours a day made me feel less alone,” you looked Wild “Even when I felt abandoned, I know you guys wouldn’t leave me.”

“13-year-old me would be so happy if she knew she was talking to her favorite heroes. She needed that. I needed that.” you said, combing through Wind’s sandy hair.

Legend frowned at your comment. 

By the implication of your tone and words, it seems like your early teens weren’t joyful or memorable. You needed them. You needed him. He wished he could’ve heard you back then. It seemed like some of the others could hear you better during their journey, but he only heard you a few times. And from what he remembers, most of them weren’t happy. 

He was also one of the last members of the group to recognize you. He only remembered you about 4 or so months ago. His past had clouded him and his mind, leaving him as leftovers.

Leftovers of Hylia’s game. He hated that damned goddess. A fraud. A parasite across each and every era. He had nothing to thank her for. Nothing besides… you. Simple, yet irreplaceable you. Millions of people had seen his quest and lead him through it, but you were an outlier. A special one. His guide. 

Marin was a memory at this point. Not even a dream, like he thought she was. She was a distraction… a replacement. A replacement for you. Kind, smart, perfect you.

₊˚✩⊹

[raelle-writing]

DFF Theory: It was Fluke's laptop that was used to post the KengNon video

So this theory is that it was Fluke's laptop that was used to post the video of Keng and Non, though Fluke himself likely wasn't the one who posted it. The theory rests on the assumption that while Jin recorded the video, he wasn't the one who posted it in the end. I talk about that more in detail in this post, but the short of it is this:

There's a discrepancy between what is shown on Jin's laptop and what is shown on the screen of the person who posted the video, which is highlighted with these two screenshots:

Along with what Fluke says in episode 4 when he points the finger at Tee for releasing the video when Jin isn't even around. Top corroborates that (though he is, admittedly, crazy/possessed/drugged at the time).

So with that established, the question is: why would Fluke even know who released the video if he wasn't involved? If he wasn't a part of the video being released, then he would naturally assume it was Jin who released it, considering he was right there when Jin filmed the video.

When we're shown the posting, here's what we see. I grabbed two screenshots of them clicking into the video itself, because it feels like they only showed it because the details are important.

So we see Canon and Epson software, then Adobe Suite. And in the second one we see an x-ray. The Canon and Epson as well as Adobe suite COULD point to it being Jin, since we know he's into photography. But it could also point to the person who was helping with the editing and effects of the movie, and who says they're working on the effects? Fluke.

Jin also isn't shown to do much photography so far in the past, except for handling Por's camera. Granted, I won't discount that it could be Jin's laptop given those softwares and the Adobe suite and his later interest in photography. But I think it's equally likely to be Fluke's, given what we know of the two of them so far.

That brings us to the x-ray. This one puzzled me, because it's a hip x-ray. We know Jin has a history of shoulder dislocations so why would he have a hip x-ray? And who would have an x-ray saved on his laptop? Maybe a future medical student?

Fluke isn't shown to talk much about medical school in the past (at least that I found) but he stresses about his portfolio, which implies that he already has his field selected and knows it'll be difficult to get into.

Jin and Fluke are the closest of the friend group, since they're repeatedly shown hanging out one-on-one together. They're always side by side, in almost every shot we see of them. The friend group has some mini-cliques within it, and it's clear that Jin and Fluke are one of them.

Jin also helps with the movie editing, just like Fluke.

I find it pretty easy to believe that Jin and Fluke would share a file storage location, so Fluke would have access to the video just like Jin. Whether just because they're close friends or because of the movie, I'm not sure.

Fluke has always been a bystander. He repeatedly says he doesn't know anything and isn't involved in anything.

I find it hard to believe he'd do the video posting himself, considering he doesn't seem to want any part of the bullying. But yet, he knows about it in the present. He also shushes Jin when Jin tries to say something about the video to him, which to me reads guilt more than it reads "leave me out of it."

I think it's likely that Fluke told the others that Jin recorded that video and what they'd seen, and that his laptop was then used to post the video, because whoever posted it knew Fluke would have access to the video Jin recorded. It was likely Top or Tee, since we see them catch Non and Keng together earlier that episode. And Top texted Tee right after Non gave him the money to ask for a favor, which was clearly to follow Non and found out where he'd gotten the money.

If it was Fluke's laptop that was used, it explains Fluke's panic at what Jin was about to say in the past. Jin started with "I didn't" and would likely continue to say he didn't post the video, which Fluke knew would implicate him if Jin carried that thought through, so he cut the conversation short.

It's also why Fluke is so paranoid of being implicated in the present, but also why he knows that it wasn't Jin who posted the video, and instead points the finger at Tee. Because if Fluke wasn't involved in the video posting, I doubt Tee would tell him about it. That would be messy, considering how tightly-lipped Tee has been about everything else that happened in the past.

Oh and before I end, in episode 8 Por's laptop is shown to also be a Mac that uses dark mode, so I compared screenshots of his Mac to what is shown in the video of whoever posted, and it doesn't look the same. Not to mention, in the present, Por seems to carry the least amount of guilt and panic at the thought of people finding out what happened to Non, so I doubt he was involved in that particular part of Non's undoing.

So in conclusion: I think it's highly likely that it was Fluke's laptop that was used to post the video of Keng and Non, which is why he knows enough in the present to point the finger at Tee.

All of these details feel very intentional and important, and it will likely come out in future episodes. This feels very right to the plot to me, considering what Fluke seems to know in the future, but we'll all see as the remaining episodes unfold!

ETA: I was wrong, it IS established that Fluke is planning to study medicine (episode 5).

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

Miracles and surprises were never in short supply around Christmas, you had learned that during the last Christmas you spent with Bucky and the club; your own family. But, what if something came along, uprooting your certainty, and presenting all of the questions you were beyond nervous to find the answers for?

You knew one thing was for certain, though. Your heart, while full of love and adoration for the man you called your own, maybe, just maybe, had room for another special someone. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, implied surprise of a... small bundle

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ Is this really happening? Am I really doing this? I think I am, and I hope you guys like it 🥹

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Heart by Sleeping At Last

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The town’s Christmas Fair was a well anticipated event, and for weeks, you offered your help, free time, and your ideas to the local school to pull it off. It had been history from then on — tireless hours spent with paper snowflakes, countless decorations, and roping the guys in on the fun, too.

Before the fun truly began, and after a very exciting meeting with the kids and their families, you were elected the leader of their small committee; the President of your own little festive family. 

What made the fair all the better, though, and warmed your heart the most, was that all proceeds from all purchases would be donated to the local hospital; to put a little cheer into the lives of the kids that were unable to be home for Christmas. Much like the previous year with the bike run. 

And, naturally, when it came to making the decorations, out of all of the members of the club, Peter was the one that was all for it. Even Sam had grudgingly joined in on the fun once he learned that there was a prize for the best-looking snowflakes. 

A whole other beast, though, was convincing Bucky and Steve, a steadfast duo in their stubbornness, and they did not budge, not even an inch, on the fact they were not taking part. “You can go have fun with it, baby,” Bucky whispered into your temple once, after you tried to convince him yet again. You sat across his lap, tracing the tattoos over the arms that held you close. “I’ve got too much shit to do.”

Steve was much the same, using the same excuse as the President. “Sorry, Sweets, I have to get all this fuckin’ paperwork done and you know what Buck is like if I fuck it up.”

You did, and you pouted at the pair of them whenever you sorted through the snowflakes and they were within your field of vision. 

Days passed, and still, your bribes and pleas went ignored or brushed away with another excuse. 

Until finally, the fair’s set up date rolled around — the big red circle on the calendar on your fridge made it very, very obvious. 

It started off without a hitch; every stall was erected and placed in increments with the help of the families, and, surprisingly, the club; both sides worked in tandem to make sure the kids would have somewhere to showcase their creations. 

You watched with a critical, artistic eye as Steve and Bucky worked on the marquees and the heavier weighted items, and you directed them with softened commands — it was true, you knew they were busy as the President and his right hand, but they did take the time to help set up for your big day. 

It made it all the better, having them there.

“Thank you, boys.” Steve’s arms wrapped around you tightly, and his beard tickled your cheek as he kissed you on the cheek, chuckling quietly. 

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he said. “I best be off, I’ll come check in later, alright?”

You nodded and stepped away to stand next to Bucky, whose arm immediately went around your waist to pull you into his side. Steve’s Harley roared to life, and you watched him ride from the car park and down the road, until he was out of sight. 

“It’s lookin’ amazing, baby—tomorrow’s gonna be beautiful,” Bucky said, a hint of awe in his voice as he looked around the fair. “My own little President, huh? You gonna get the kids their own bikes?”

A genuine laugh shook your shoulders, and you shook your head. “I wish. Come on, we’re not done!” 

You ignored Bucky’s grumbles, his endless complaints, and pulled him along behind you as you skipped towards the next thing on your to do list. 

Not even once did it cross your mind to ask where Steve went, or what he was up to. And, if you had been a little more inclined to notice, you would have seen just how upbeat Bucky was ever since his Vice President left; how he kept trying to hide his smile while he watched you sort what went where, or how when you glanced up at his face from your task, you would see a glint of something in his bright eyes.

Or, at the very least, you would have noticed how Bucky did everything and anything to make sure you did not leave the park where the fair was to take place the very next day. 

The sun had started to sink on the horizon, turning the sky orange and pink with the hues of gold between. You looked up from your task with a yawn, then glanced around to see most of the parents packing up for the day — eager little ones running around their feet and clamouring to get into the neatly packed decorations. 

“Why don’t we head back, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, putting a box of rope underneath the covered bottom of the stall you were currently working on. You blinked and looked at him tiredly, but you smiled as he neared. “You look exhausted.”

The warmth of his hand tenderly cupping your face soothed your tired mind, and his fingers wandered from your cheek down to your shoulder, where he squeezed. “Yeah, I think I’ll take you home—can’t have you droppin’ dead from exhaustion, especially not before your big day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, conceding just this once that it would be best. The soft, comforting warmth of your bed could not be denied any longer. A few shouts of goodnight followed your departure from the fairgrounds, and you sat behind Bucky on his Indian, content to nap as he drove you both home; the lull of the engine a familiar lullaby. 

The fleeting dreams of something small in your arms made your heart almost burst with fondness; how the little bundle would wriggle in delight as the sound of the bike rumbled — just as it did now — made the whole of your being inflate with helium, lifting you in the contentment of it. 

A leather clad hand squeezed yours, and you blinked yourself awake. The garage of the clubhouse was lit up in the fading light of the day, and the Christmas lights that Peter had hung glinted and shone over the white snow. “We’re home, sweetheart,” Bucky said, unclipping his helmet. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside and into a blanket burrito.”

“Yes,” you breathed, envisioning the fluffy, plush blankets that awaited you. 

Bucky helped you off the seat and unclipped your helmet, stowing it away in the pannier before he dismounted himself. The walk to the clubhouse was slow, hindered by your constant yawning, but when Bucky opened the door for you, you stopped dead in your tracks, blinking into the darkness of what would normally be the bar and games room. “What—?”

The lights flickered on, bathing the room in warm light — filtered by the absolutely ridiculous amounts of paper snowflakes strung down from the roof and on garlands. Tinsel was on every possible surface it could be stuck on, and you stared, slack-jawed, as Sam, Peter, and Steve jumped out from behind cover. 

“Surprise!”

You shrieked and hiccupped on a gasp, floundering from the shock of seeing that they all had taken part, even in secret. Arms enveloped you from behind and you looked over your shoulder to Bucky — he was grinning, that charming pull of his lips that had you hooked from the beginning. “Surprise, baby.”

“You did it! You did it, and you didn’t tell me!”

“That’s the point of a surprise, Sweets,” Steve chimed in. A soft blanket appeared from behind his back, wrapped in gold ribbon. “Here, you need to get to bed and get some sleep for tomorrow.”

Bucky let go of you, and you bounded forward to grab the blanket, but only after you collided with Steve’s chest to crush the blond in a hug. “I can’t– Thank you, thank you so much.”

The next morning, after one of the best night's sleep, you awoke in a flurry. Excitement pumped adrenaline through your veins, and after shoving cup after cup of coffee under Bucky’s nose, you were on your way to the fairgrounds. 

It was crowded as Bucky pulled into a park; the others would follow later, but as you were the President of the committee, you needed to show your support. The stalls were brimming with life, and the children had the widest, brightest smiles on their faces as they gushed and chattered about their wares — a majority of which were actually the crafts of their parents. 

“I think it’s been a hit,” Bucky said, a big grin on his face. He looked at you then, pride swelling his chest. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You felt the heat of his praise crawl up your neck, and you ducked your head as you grabbed his arm. “Let’s go see what they’re all doing.”

Bucky kissed you on the cheek, and led you through the crowds, arm in arm. 

The stalls were bursting with Christmas wares — wreaths and lights, decorations and door stoppers, then there were rows and rows of knitted wares that were softer than the clouds that sent the flurries of snow down from the sky. “There is so much,” you said, wonderstruck. “Look at it all, Buck! They all did so well.”

“I think, sweetheart,” Bucky said, leaning closer to a stall where a small boy was enthusiastically exclaiming about his father’s automotive models, “That it was you that brought them all together.”

“I would agree,” a voice said, and you looked over to the source. It was one of the mothers that attended the meetings regularly; always with a smile on her face. “We couldn’t have done it without you, truly.”

Your eyes widened a fraction and you fidgeted with your fingers, overwhelmed with the compliment. “Thanks– Thank you–”

She smiled at you, then she looked at Bucky and began to talk to him about the models he was looking at so intently. “My husband worked for hours on these.” A wooden motorcycle was placed in his hands, and Bucky looked at it with glee akin to the child before him. “He took inspiration from your bikes, did you know?”

“No,” Bucky said. He looked into the woman’s face and blinked, as though his eyes were burning from the tears he choked back. “How much?”

The two talked about prices, and you took the opportunity to look around at the rest of her wares. There were clothes, all embossed with all manners of machinery and vehicles: classic muscle cars to modern ones, to planes and trucks — even farm equipment. 

It was an explosion of colour as you took it all in, and the adult shirts and sweaters turned into children’s wear just as the small boy noticed the President of the motorcycle club of his town. A loud squeal left his widened mouth, and you glanced over to see Bucky knelt down on one knee, asking the boy all kinds of questions: “Did you help your dad make these?” to “Is this what you want to do when you’re older?”

Your heart soared, and your stomach flipped. 

Bucky brought the bike model, and he tipped the little boy for excellent service, the smile never leaving his face as he handed the boy the money. There was a surprised exclamation from Bucky’s lips when the kid launched himself forward to hug him around the thighs.  

It was while Bucky was occupied with his new attachment that you noticed a small array of tiny baby clothes. 

Colours and designs were more subtle in comparison to the adult clothes, but one onesie caught your attention in particular. A black motorcycle, much like Bucky’s, was embossed on the front, just by itself, no excessive font or exaggeration of size; an almost perfect replica of the bike that was Bucky’s chariot. 

“You’ve spotted it, honey,” the woman said, her voice fond. You looked at her and then at Bucky. “Oh, don’t you worry,” she gestured at her son. “He can talk the ears off of anyone.” 

“I–” You tried, but your mouth had gone dry, and your stomach had twisted, a fluttering thing that you refused to acknowledge. “I’m not–”

“That’s okay,” she soothed, nodding. “It is a cute onesie; I can’t blame you for being hung up on it.”

“But if I were–”

“If you were,” she said, a knowing glint in her eyes, “I would say it’s the perfect thing.”

Unable to stop yourself, you looked back at Bucky and the small boy. He was animatedly gesturing at the rest of the models, that same childish glee on his face, as though he couldn’t believe an adult was so invested. 

Bucky, however, looked between the display of models and the boy, his eyes soft and filled with such genuine care and enthusiasm that your heart skipped a beat. 

It hammered against your ribs, roiling your stomach and making your limbs feel like jelly. Could—?

“Why don’t you have it, love,” the vendor said, gently putting the folded onesie into your hand. “From one woman to another, I think you have found the one that would love another just as much as he loves you. And, by the looks of it–” She paused, smiling at her son and the President of the motorcycle club with something resembling maternal love. “That would be a hell of a lot.”

The onesie found itself tucked into your pocket, the weight of it so heavy and cumbersome, but lighter than air — a contrast you could not comprehend. And as you walked through the rest of the fair, taking in the sights and smells of Christmas, you couldn’t help but feel the want, the longing for a Christmas Miracle of your own.

🥹🥹🥹

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favors and Broken Promises

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x journalist!fem!reader

Summary: When you begin receiving death threats while writing an article on a dirty cop, Deacon Kay reluctantly agrees to protect you. He makes the situation worse before it gets better.

Warnings: angst to fluff; non-descriptive fight scene and injuries. the detective and dirty cop's names are a somewhat obscure book reference

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: I didn't proofread this, but I'll be back soon to do so!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon is attempting - and failing – to enjoy his day off. When his work phone rings, he sighs before answering.

“Sergeant Kay,” he greets, hoping this will be quick.

“Deacon, this is Detective Jeff Sherman.”

Smiling, Deacon is pleased that it’s not a SWAT call.

“What can I do for ya, Sherman?” he asks.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything for an academy classmate. Couldn’t have survived without you,” Deacon replies.

“It’s a big favor, Deacon. Big enough that if you say no I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“What have you gotten yourself into? This LAPD business?”

“Yeah. It’s for a case I’m investigating. Dirty cop working in the academy.”

“LAPD academy? For how long?”

“Started around the time we were there.”

“We would have seen it, wouldn’t we? Is there any truth to the claims, Sherman?”

Sherman sighs, and Deacon isn’t prepared to hear, “You didn’t know to look, Deac.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’ve got a friend, a journalist investigating the cop, and she needs protection. She started receiving death threats last week, and she was being blackmailed before that.”

“Why call me?”

“It would be off the books. Our history and your time in private security make you the perfect choice to keep her safe while we find this guy, get to bottom the threats.”

“Of course. Like I said, Sherman, anything for you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Investigating a dirty cop in the Los Angeles Police Academy isn’t as easy as one might think. After years in investigative journalism and a brief history in the criminal justice field, you found yourself drawn to telling the stories of the people who need justice the most but can’t get it for themselves. This particular story caught your attention because you know exactly what these young women are dealing with.

Walter Greener has been harassing, blackmailing, and assaulting female recruits since you were in the academy years ago. His history of mistreating women and the fact that he’s still at it with no record of any reprimands makes you eager to expose the truth.

You were likely one of the first. Greener harassed you constantly, and when he grew bold enough to assault you on numerous occasions, putting his hands on you or getting rough in the locker rooms after training, you began considering dropping out. Letting the actions of one man dictate your life seemed ridiculous, and you vowed not to quit without good reason.

When the first letter demanded something in exchange for your safety, essentially asking for a piece of your soul to keep your life, you knew you couldn’t keep going on the track you were on. You pulled away from your friends and family before dropping out and moving. During this time, completely alone, you began studying to become a journalist, refusing to let other women’s stories go unheard. Your classmate, Jeff Sherman, tracked you down and demanded to know what happened, able to see something that no one else could.

Years later, when you learned that Greener was not only a cop but was working in the academy, you had to return to the heart of Los Angeles and find the entire story; the good, bad, and ugly. Now that you have enough evidence, both past and present, you’re ready to write your article. There’s more than enough to get him fired and charged with harassment and assault if anyone else is willing to testify against him. The moment you began preparing the story, a death threat appeared in your email inbox. Within a few days, they were being delivered straight to your door.

The only relationship that survived your forced exit from the academy was with Jeff Sherman, so you called him and told him everything. He jumped to action, promising to find him and keep you safe. Believing him, you continue working on the story, unwilling to let Greener scare you away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This woman have a name?” Deacon asks.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sherman says before telling Deacon your name.

“Are you kidding me? No way, Sherman.”

“You already agreed, Deac. C’mon, man, do it for me?”

Deacon pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he went from being suddenly abandoned by you to being responsible for your safety. While you were in the academy, you dated Deacon for several months. He was happy, and things were getting serious, and then, out of nowhere, you started pulling back before disappearing completely. You dropped out of the academy, and Deacon had to accept that he’d likely never see you again. You broke his heart without giving him any idea about what happened. Even today, he is hurt and angry that you didn’t talk to him about the unknown issue. 

Unaware of how you were forced to pull away from him and the career of your dreams, Deacon has remained clueless about the blackmail and harassment that targeted your personal life. Each threat included your family and friends, including your cop friends and Deacon himself.

You and Detective Sherman only stayed in touch because he realized something was going on with all of the women and found you, cornering you for answers after your disappearance. 

Deacon already agreed and won’t go back on his word, but he really doesn’t want to see you again. Doesn’t want to be that close to you, responsible for you, any of it. He was pissed when you left, and he’s still so angry and hurt that he can’t imagine letting you walk into his life, his house, without at least providing a few answers. The idea of someone threatening to kill you, however, makes it harder to say no (if he could).

“You said death threats?” Deacon asks. “Are they bad?”

“They weren’t at first. Progressively, yeah, they’ve gotten graphic and detailed. The blackmail was rough too, though. Greener knows a lot about her.”

“Wait, Richard Greener? From the academy?”

“Right, you didn’t know, I’m sorry. That’s who the article is about. He’s still harassing and assaulting young girls in the academy and she’s trying to get to the bottom of it, get him fired or indicted.”

Deacon wants clarification on the ‘still’ aspect of Sherman’s statement but decides that getting close to this is a bad idea. It’s a job, nothing more, so he can’t let you get under his skin. The anger and hurt are as powerful as they were years ago, so Deacon will keep you alive and then watch you walk away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Why won’t you tell me who my bodyguard is, Sherman?” you ask, approaching a back door.

“Because you wouldn’t have come,” he admits while knocking.

The door opens, and you find yourself face-to-face with Deacon Kay.

“Hi,” you whisper, shocked to see him.

He ignores you, looking at Sherman instead. “Check for trails?”

“Of course, Deac. We weren’t followed. Thanks for your help.” He looks between you to add, “Don’t kill each other.”

Sherman walks away, and Deacon enters the house, leaving the door open for you to carry your bag inside.

“Guest room is the second door on the right,” he says, his back to you.

“Thanks,” you reply. “I’m sure you didn’t want to do this, but I appreciate it.”

“Oh, yeah, I just live for protecting people who intentionally piss off the wrong people with their second career choice of journalism. Because writing will change so much.”

You try to ignore his hurtful jab, opting to find the guest room instead of staying close to Deacon. He’s already forgotten this is supposed to be a job, letting his emotions control him. When you reemerge a few hours later, he wordlessly slides a plate of food to you.

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to throw it away if you suddenly decide you don’t like it, since you seem to enjoy that,” Deacon snaps, taking his plate into his room and closing the door.

“I think I might prefer the death threats,” you say to yourself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, you don’t get it. She left me, took part of me with her,” Deacon says quietly, pacing as he asks for advice.

“Sounds like she may still have it,” Luca offers. “Maybe give her a chance to explain. Have you talked to her yet?”

“Um- sort of. Nothing civil though.”

“Deac,” Luca sighs. “You can’t attack her for something she did back then and expect her to feel safe, for one, but that’s also no way to move on, man. At some point you just gotta let go and find something else.”

“You’re telling me to forgive and forget?”

 “I’m telling you to remember that neither of you are the same people you were back then. Give her a chance, and maybe be a little respectful of the fact that the man who destroyed her life is threatening to take it.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call and exits his room, noticing your door is closed. He sees your shadow move in the light under the door and decides that Luca’s advice can wait a day because his hurt feels brand new.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is that wise?” Deacon asks, walking into the kitchen the following morning. “Isn’t writing what got you into this?”

“Not exactly,” you answer, completing your outline.

“Well, it’s what got me into this, and it’s not my dream vacation, so maybe don’t do anything to make the situation worse, if you can manage that.”

You nod slowly, sad that Deacon seems stuck on what you did in the academy. If he can’t move on or at least give you a chance to explain after all this time, then it’s probably not worth trying, you think.

Deacon notices the sad, misty look in your eyes as you continue typing but exits the room before anything else happens. He’s not in the mood to give you pity or feel empathetic toward you; you got yourself into this situation, but you also drug Deacon into it.

Throughout the rest of the day, you don’t even react to Deacon’s jabs and outright mean comments. Whenever he sees you, you jump as if you didn’t know anyone else was around, are lost in thought, and ignore him, or stare longingly out the window. Even after stumbling upon you crying at two different times, he keeps pushing you, letting the past impact his current treatment of you. Deacon thinks you don’t seem to care, so why should he?

By the end of the first day, you refuse to meet Deacon’s eyes and try your hardest to avoid him. Deacon notices, of course, and realizes that something in your past must be affecting you, maybe even the same thing that made you leave him. Everyone seems to think Deacon needs to move on, but he’s not the only one.

✯✯✯✯✯

A few days into your nightmarish stay with Deacon, he wakes up in an especially bad mood, which shows in his snarky comments and low-aimed insults.

“Couldn’t make it as a cop so you sit behind a computer and judge those of us that answered the call to serve and protect,” Deacon mutters.

Tired and unable to take Deacon’s – for lack of a better word – verbal abuse for a moment longer, you snap. “Well, I am so sorry that I was harassed and assaulted so often that I didn’t feel safe anywhere, not even with you! Dropping out and pulling away from everyone I cared about was my only choice, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt you, Deacon, but I’m not trying to make you feel like a monster for letting me leave and not noticing that Greener was putting his hands on me every time you looked away!”

Deacon’s eyes are wide as you continue, “And if the panic attacks and trust issues get to be too much, I’ll just leave again, because I think anything would be better than sitting in this house, with the man who is supposed to be keeping me safe but instead is making a bad situation a whole lot worse.”

With your emotions raging, you can feel the panic attack building in your chest, and you storm away before Deacon can witness that level of vulnerability.

Once he’s alone in the living room, Deacon begins piecing together all of the little signs he missed before, growing more and more determined to make it up to you. From the academy to this moment, he has a lot of hurt to mend, but he can help you now, even if he didn’t back then. Your situation requires a reminder that there are good, trustworthy cops; despite his recent behavior, Deacon is one of the good ones.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon knocks softly on your door, and you harshly rub the tears off your cheeks before answering.

“I’m so sorry,” he says when you come into view. Staying in the hallway, Deacon holds his hands before him, his genuineness evident in his gaze and body language. “I’m here with you and I will protect you, I promise.”

You nod, and he sends you a small smile before retreating into his room. Your heart feels a bit lighter, and Deacon’s does, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

Over the next few days, Deacon’s heart begins healing. He’s casually protective, gently moving you out of the way when you’re blocking something he needs, calmly asking you to stay away from the window, and refusing to let you out of his sight for too long. When you spend too much time in the shower, Deacon knocks and asks if you’re okay. Your responding laugh makes Deacon smile for the first time in too many years.

Deacon does more than a bodyguard should, with evident kindness and concern underlying each of his movements and commands. When he speaks, his words are nearly parallel to his previous comments.

“What are you writing?” he asks when he finds you curled on the couch with your laptop perched on your knees.

“Working on the article,” you answer carefully.

“I’ve read some of your pieces. You write on important topics in a way that makes them relatable. That’s admirable.”

Later the same day, he encourages you to keep writing when you mumble that it feels pointless.

“Even if you help one more girl, isn’t that enough?”

He even walks you to bed, holding the door open as he apologizes again. “And I didn’t mean what I said – any of it – but especially the part about you not being able to be a cop. We both know you were on track to be the best of us. But what you’re doing now is just as important.”

“Still can’t help but feel robbed,” you admit. “He took everything I loved.”

Glancing up at Deacon, you think he understands your meaning when he smiles.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Kay,” Deacon says, answering his phone. “I’m off this week… How bad is it?... Yeah, I’ll get right back to you.”

“You should go,” you say, looking over your laptop. “Sounds like they need their best.”

“It’s a major hostage situation, and they only called because it’s urgent. I shouldn’t leave you, though, they can find someone else.”

“Deac,” you call. “I’ll be okay for a little while. And I will call if anything happens, or I get worried or just want to talk. I promise.”

Deacon reluctantly agrees, gathering his things as he calls his team back and tells them he will meet them at the scene. As he leaves you, he feels like something is wrong, out of place, but maybe that’s just because he misses you after spending so much time together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Something scratches across the front door, and you’re immediately alert. It hasn’t been long enough for Deacon to return, so you rush to his room, but the front door slams against the wall before you can escape behind another locked door.

“An article about me?” Greener asks. “I’d be flattered if I didn’t know exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“Now, I’m the kind of woman that you can’t intimidate.”

“Intimidate?” Greener laughs as he cracks his neck. “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

You step back as Greener lunges, glad you continued training after dropping out of the academy. You’re still a good fighter, and Greener underestimates you because you’re a woman. While Deacon deals with a tiring afternoon of saving hostages, you win a tiring fight.

Car doors close in the neighboring driveway, and an exhausted and injured Greener rushes out of the broken front door. You don’t want to call Deacon, not because you don’t trust him but because you know he will blame himself. Regardless, you dial his number and lean back against the wall.

“Hey, what happened?” Deacon answers.

“Uh, Greener broke in. I’m okay… mostly okay. We fought but he got scared off,” you answer softly.

Deacon hangs up, rushing home and patching you up. He covers your scrapes and bruises, apologizing as he goes.

“I will never put you in this situation again,” he promises as he secures the last bandage over your split knuckles.

“Stay by my side?” you ask, offering your less bruised hand.

Deacon takes it with a soft touch as he answers, “Through it all.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps his promise, staying by your side through the trial, the mixed backlash and praise over the article, and perhaps most surprisingly, your sudden fear of being alone again.

Standing by his door with your bags in tow, you can’t cross the threshold.

“You don’t have to go,” Deacon repeats. “Stay as long as you want. I’m by your side, remember? There’s nothing to worry about here. Other than me getting attached to you and clingier.”

You smile, glancing at the door before stepping closer to Deacon as he pulls you into a hug, and you wrap your arms around him before pressing your cheek against his shirt.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Deacon vows. “I lost you once, and after everything we went through to find each other again, what I put you through, I’m not losing you again.”