#There were supposed to be two questions and three words

[itsnotyouithink]

AFRAID

PAIRING: tara carpenter x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Tara Carpenter never asked to be assigned to the school’s most frustrating student-athlete: cocky, charming, and somehow worse at Film 101 than she is at shutting up. But a tutoring session full of eye-rolls, slow smiles, and suspiciously flirty jabs leaves them both more affected than they’re willing to admit. And when someone asks Tara what it’s like tutoring “the hottest girl on campus,” the answer might be written all over her face.

WARNINGS: ghostface mention, daddy issues.

| part one | part two | part three |

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: nottt proofread

————————————

You were five minutes late and Tara Carpenter was already annoyed about it.

She sat in the far corner of the library, where the tables were cracked from overuse and the overhead light flickered every six seconds. Her laptop was open, angled perfectly, a black gel pen tucked behind her ear like a warning. Her hoodie sleeves were shoved up to her elbows, and her leg was bouncing beneath the table—nervously or irritably, you couldn't tell.

You dropped your duffle bag onto the floor with a familiar thud, slid into the chair across from her, and offered your usual weaponized smile.

"Miss me?"

Tara didn't even look up. Just clicked her pen once—loud, intentional. "You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."

"You said three o'clock."

"I said two-thirty.”

You blinked. Grinned. Shrugged. "Tomato, tomahto."

That earned you the briefest glance—eyes flicking up, sharp and unimpressed, before returning to the stack of worksheets in front of her. She shoved one toward you, "Same scene. La La Land. Color symbolism. Try using more than three brain cells this time."

You leaned in, elbows on the table, the sleeves of your hoodie scrunched up past your forearms, still warm from practice. Your last name and your game-day number: 4, was on the back. A faint sheen of sweat clung to your skin, but you smelled like lemon body spray and stubbornness.

Your eyes flicked to the still: Mia in that yellow dress, mid-spin under a purple sky, streetlights glowing like low-hanging stars.

"You ever get tired of this movie?" you asked.

"No."

"You ever get tired of me?"

"Constantly."

"Liar."

She didn't answer. But the corner of her mouth twitched—barely. You caught it anyway and tilted your head, tapping the image with your finger. "Okay. Yellow. She's hopeful."

"Go on."

"But it's nervous hope. Like she's wearing it too brightly, trying not to spill it."

Tara looked up again. Slowly. Her gaze lingered a second longer this time, "And the purple?"

"Makes it feel fake. Dreamy. Like they're borrowing a world that isn't theirs." She blinked. You could see her fighting the urge to be impressed. She clicked her pen again, once, twice.

"Not terrible," she said eventually.

"Did you just compliment me?"

"No."

"You totally did. Should I tell the press?"

"If you do, I'm telling them about your 'sunset means mystery' theory from last week."

You groaned and slouched back in your chair, knees knocking hers under the table. She stiffened for half a second but didn't move. You noticed. You always noticed—sadly.

She wore sneakers today—her usual, scuffed at the toe—and black jeans that were fraying at the seams near the knees. Her fingers kept brushing the edge of her laptop touchpad, like she was trying to look busy. But her eyes kept flicking to yours. You tried to ignore the scar on the back of her hand: how did she get that?

"Do you always wear black?" you asked.

"Do you always ask irrelevant questions?"

"I just think you'd look good in yellow."

A pause. Her foot tapped against yours under the table.

Once.

Then again.

"If I wear yellow, will you actually pass this class?"

"If you wear yellow, I'll be too distracted to focus."

"Gross." She gagged, but she was smiling. Sort of. The kind of smile she pretended wasn't a smile. You sat up straighter, "You like me a little."

"I tolerate you."

"That's progress. Last week I thought you were planning out my murder." You rested your chin in your hand, watching her scribble something in the margin of your worksheet. Her handwriting was small, neat, and way too aggressive for a simple note. Her knuckles brushed yours when she handed it back. Neither of you moved away and she ignored your comment; she was planning your murder.

"Why are you always looking at me like that?" she asked suddenly.

You blinked. "Like what?"

"Like I'm.. I don't know, interesting."

You tilted your head, "Maybe you are."

She stared at you. No eye roll. No comeback. Just that look again. Half-curious. Half-defensive. And maybe—just maybe—a little bit soft.

You tapped your pen against the table and changed the subject before it got weird.

"So," you say, tilting your head like you're not about to ruin her day, "what's your favorite movie?"

It's casual, almost lazy, the way you say it. Like you're just trying to fill the space. But you're leaning forward now, arms crossed on the edge of the table, your hoodie sleeves pushed up past your elbows, eyes tracing her like you're trying to memorize her answer before she even gives it.

Tara stiffens. Not noticeably to someone else, but you've spent enough hours across from her—bickering, teasing, trying to make her smile—to notice the way her pen stops mid-circle. The way her breath catches ever so slightly.

"That's kind of a loaded question," she says, not looking at you. She adjusts the cuff of her hoodie, tugging at the edge like it suddenly doesn't fit right. The fabric covered the scar on her hand. Her shoulders inch up slightly, and for a second, you think she might not answer at all.

"What, like it's embarrassing?" you tease. "Is it Twilight? Just say it. This is a safe space."

"No," she says quickly. Too quickly. There's a tightness in her voice now. A weird, careful control she doesn't usually bother faking with you. She's looking at the table, at the edge of her notebook, at anywhere but your face.

"I just..." She shrugs. "Don't really have one."

You blink.

Pause.

Let it settle.

You snicker as if she's joking around with you, "You're literally tutoring me in film."

She lifts one shoulder, eyes locked on a pen she isn't using. "So?"

"So you definitely have a favorite." You chuckle but it's tense, like you asked the wrong question at the wrong time.

"I used to."

There it is. Something sharp and quiet slips between the words—just enough to make your chest go still. Tara presses the tip of her finger into the spiral of her notebook like she needs the grounding. Her nail is chipped. There's a faint red indentation around her wrist where a hair tie used to be.

You watch her. Careful.

You don't push, but your voice softens automatically. "You don't have to tell me," you say. "I wasn't trying to—"

"It's fine," she interrupts, like if she says it fast enough, it'll make it true.

But she still won't look at you.

And for once, you stop smiling.

"I was just trying to get to know you."

That catches her. She lifts her gaze slowly—eyes darker than usual, like a storm pulling in over still water.

"Why?”

Your knee brushes hers under the table. You don't even notice this time. "Because I want to," you say, like it's obvious. Like it hasn't been building since the first tutoring session when she rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of her head. You had always been the type of person to want to see every place on Earth, try every hobby or activity, and meet everyone you could ever interact with. This included your somewhat stoic, emotionally-closed off tutor — Tara Carpenter.

That quiets her.

For a moment, she just stares. And her whole face changes—like she's trying not to let it change. Her mouth opens. Then shuts again. Her hand tightens around the pen she's not using, knuckles pale, like holding something keeps her from falling apart.

"So, what is your favorite movie?" you say, biting gently on the end of your pen with a light-hearted laugh. Chuckle? Giggle? It wouldn't even qualify as a laugh more-so a breath of air.

Tara hesitates. You see it—how her eyes go a little guarded, how she tugs at the cuff of her hoodie again like she needs something to fidget with. Why is she panicking over a movie selection?

Then she lifts her chin, like she's daring you to make fun of her. "The Babadook."

You blink, "Wait, really?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"No. No problem. I just..." You grin slowly. "Didn't take you for a gay grief monster allegory kind of girl."

She stares flatly. "I literally study horror for fun."

"True. But The Babadook?" You nudge her boot with yours under the table. "Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

"It's thematically rich," she fires back. "Also, it's camp."

"So what I'm hearing is: you see yourself in the Babadook."

"I see myself in the mother," she snaps, then immediately pauses. "Okay, wait, don't make that weird."

"Already did. Sorry. It's permanent now." You grin, happy that you could lighten the atmosphere between you two.

Tara groans and drops her forehead into her hand. Her hair falls forward in a curtain and she mutters something into her palm that sounds suspiciously like "I hate you."

You lean closer, "If it helps, I'd let the Babadook haunt me if it meant spending more time with you."

She groans louder.

"Stop talking."

"Make me."

That earns you a flick of her pen to your forehead. Not hard. Just enough to make your heart stutter like a dumb middle schooler.

For a second, it's quiet.

And kind of warm.

She's still leaning on her hand, looking at you with that tired, half-annoyed, half-not expression she always has around you. You're still grinning, like you don't know how to do anything else when she's sitting across from you.

"You should probably go," she says finally, glancing at the time. "Don't you have practice again?"

"Yeah." You don't move.

She notices. But doesn't say anything.

You reach down, shove your duffle over your shoulder, and stand up slowly. "Same time tomorrow?" you ask.

Tara shrugs, playing with the edge of her notebook. "Unless you finally drop out."

"Tempting. But then I wouldn't get to see your pretty face three times a week."

She raises her eyebrows.

"Did you just call me pretty?"

You back away toward the exit, walking backwards, "Don't worry, I'll deny it later."

She doesn't smile.

But she does look down. And when you glance back one more time before rounding the corner, her hand is resting where your boot tapped hers under the table.

She doesn't move it for a while.

——————

Mindy cornered you before you could swipe into your dorm, your ID — complete with that hideous freshman-year photo — already halfway to the scanner. She slid in like a glitch in the matrix, knocking the card from your hand.

"Uhm, excuse you?"

"I need a favor," she said, like she wasn't already on thin ice from the last one.

The last time Mindy asked for a favor, you almost got suspended for vandalism — something about a carton of eggs and a tenured professor with a vendetta. But Mindy made chaos look fun. She was the rare person who didn't treat you like a walking headline or a stats sheet.

Your days were regimented like military drills: practice, press, game tape, lift, brand deal, repeat. You had nearly a million Instagram followers dissecting your highlight reels, but they didn't see the way your knees screamed by midnight. Or how the only place you felt even remotely like yourself anymore was on the court — and even that was starting to crack. The burnout was loud, but your ambition was louder. And somewhere deep down, the little-kid part of you still loved basketball like it was a painting you were trying to finish, obsessing over every stroke, every angle. You weren't just a player — you were a craftsman. You played like it meant something. Like it was personal.

Mindy got you out of that headspace, even if it meant dumb decisions and third-wheeling her dates with Anika. (Anika was a saint, by the way. The only person on campus who ever told you to rest without sounding like a trainer.)

"Absolutely not," you muttered, nudging Mindy aside to reach for your card. Her foot landed on it like she was stepping on a landmine. You stared up at her. "Mindy. Move."

"No." Her voice was stern. "I need a favor."

You sighed. "Is it illegal?"

"Egging is, like, diet crime."

"It was your professor."

"We wore masks."

"I almost got benched."

"Details," she waved off. "Anyway. I need you to come to my film festival next month."

You stood upright, suspicious. "Okay... but why me?"

"To support your talented friend," she tried with a winning smile.

You crossed your arms. "Mindy."

She exhaled like she'd just been caught sneaking cookies. "Fine. People like you. If I say you're gonna be there, more people will show up. I don't want it to tank. I've been working so hard."

Your expression softened despite yourself. "You know I'm not actually famous, right?"

"Tell that to your blue check," she grinned.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'll go."

She whooped and did a half-assed happy dance in the hallway before lunging in for a dramatic hug. Just as you reached for your door again, she spun back around. "Wait—one more thing."

"You are allergic to goodbyes."

"I didn't know you and Tara were, like, a thing."

You snorted. "We're not. She's just tutoring me for Film 101."

"She's color-coding that ridiculous textbook for you, FYI."

You blinked. "She is?"

Mindy nodded. "You sure it's just tutoring?"

"I don't even think we're friends. She kinda hates me. She never laughs at my jokes. Or... anything."

"Classic Tara." Mindy shrugged. "She's sweet once you get past the barbed wire and emotionally repressed vibes."

"She called me a 'cinematic liability' last week," you muttered.

"And yet she's still helping you pass. Even if it is a paid gig."

You didn't say anything for a second. Just let yourself think of Tara — those sharp eyes, the bite in her voice, the way she never smiled but still always showed up, like clockwork. You weren't used to people sticking around without asking for something in return. Especially not people like her.

You finally said, "I just want her to be happy, you know? Even if she's a little... emotionally allergic."

Mindy raised an eyebrow. "You like her."

You scoffed. "I don't even like myself half the time."

"Bullshit." She kissed your cheek with a loud mwah. "You're just scared because she's not part of your world."

"She's too smart for me," you admitted with a shrug. "And she hates basketball. She said she would rather go through AP Calculus again than go to one of the games."

"She tolerates basketball," Mindy said. "But she might not hate you."

You opened your door finally, backpack slung low, exhaustion dripping from your shoulders. "I'll come to your festival. Send me the details."

"You're the best." Mindy saluted you like she was in a war film and skipped away.

You stood there a moment longer, hand still on the doorknob. Your body ached — a thousand micro-tears in muscle that kept you upright, moving, powerful. People loved you for your game, but didn't realize it came at a cost. That behind every dunk and buzzer-beater was another layer of obsession, sacrifice, and hours alone in the gym trying to get it just right.

But Tara... Tara saw something else. And for the first time in a long while, you wondered what it'd be like to be wanted not because you were good — but just because you were you.

⸻

One of the study spaces at Blackmore University was quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made everything sound louder. Vending machine humming. Laptop keys clicking. The occasional sneaker squeak down the hallway or honk of a truck from outside in the city.

Tara sat curled up on the far couch, hoodie up, highlighter cap between her teeth. Chad was busy at the gym, Mindy was hanging out with Anika, and there was no way in hell that she would willingly go hangout with her older-sister, Sam. Her laptop was open to the same document she'd been editing for an hour — a study guide she'd already emailed. Twice.

She was rewriting the example section. Again.

"You're really going all out for a girl who's going to forget everything the second she gets back on the court."

Tara didn't look up. She didn't need to.

Julia, a blonde freshman with a sketchbook full of half-finished screenplays and a reputation for being observant in the most inconvenient ways, dropped into the chair beside her.

"I'm serious," Julia went on, flipping a pen between her fingers. "You've rewritten that thing three times. Are you, like, secretly in love with her?"

Tara shut her laptop.

Slowly.

"Absolutely not."

Julia snorted. "Relax. I had a crush on her last semester too. First week of classes — she helped me carry a box and then told me my handwriting looked like a movie character's. I thought she was flirting."

"She probably was," Tara muttered.

"Yeah," Julia said, smiling. "That's the thing. She flirts without even noticing. Smiles like you're the only person on Earth and then forgets your name by Friday."

Tara didn't respond. Just started capping her highlighters, one by one, methodical.

"She's good at it, though," Julia added, more softly. "Charming. Stupidly nice. Kind of a golden retriever thing going on."

Tara set her pencil case down harder than necessary. "She's not charming. She's late. Loud. Doesn't take anything seriously. I'm pretty sure she doesn’t even know her left from her right."

Julia watched her.

"She shows up to study sessions without a pen," Tara went on, faster now. "Brings snacks like that makes up for not knowing what a jump cut is. Sits too close. Laughs too loud. Like she's trying to make me like her in the most desperate way possible.”

There was a beat.

"You sound like you hate her," Julia said.

Tara's jaw clenched. "I do hate her."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

Tara grabbed her laptop, shoved it in her bag, and stood. "She's a distraction. That's it."

Julia tilted her head. "Right. So why do you keep making her study guides that match her team colors?"

Tara didn't answer.

She just walked out and Julia couldn’t help but laugh a little.

The door clicked shut behind her. The hallway was cold, dim, echoey. She didn't move. Just stood there, back against the wall, staring at nothing.

"She's a distraction," she whispered to herself again. “A horrible, obnoxious one.”

[hadesoftheladies]

i've become more anti-romance these past two years, not because i hate love but because romance is such an infantalized, patriarchal way to look at love.

the entire culture of romance disgusts me, i think, primarily because of how it isolates women from their communities in real time, even alienates them from their sense of self. like, romance insists that there is such a thing as THE ONE and this one must be a sexual/life partner. like, already the premise forces a toxic environment where a couple has unrealistic expectations of each other, where they're both pedestalized, and i've seen so many relationships frustrated by this stupid, childish idealism when it comes to romantic relationships.

but it's always worse when a woman is romancepilled. when a man is romancepilled, chances are his misogyny decreases by like maybe 10% or something. but when it's a woman OH MY FUCKING GOD. it's like she gets a lobotomy. it doesn't matter how self-assured she used to be. what her temperament was. you just start watching these women humiliate and baby themselves in front of these men. like they adopt learned helplessness. and he becomes so CENTRAL to their lives that like, if you don't have a boyfriend/husband genuinely good luck hanging out with her. she'll bring him everywhere. she'll talk about him when he's not there. she'll be talking TO him when you're supposed to be hanging out. and you'll find that the only other women she maintains friendships with are the partners of her partner's friend group.

you're just not a priority. like at all. except for when she has low self-esteem or breaks up with him.

and my question is: why? why should people who've known you longer, who've been loving you longer, for DECADES, take a backseat to someone you've dated for like three? maybe two years? why is one kind of love exalted above all others? you point this out and they start calling you jealous. your life and love, because you are single, is just so small apparently. "i hope you find love one day" "i hope you discover what it's like for someone to love you so unconditionally" genuine question, but is this man your legit first time experiencing love let alone unconditional love??? because i cannot fucking relate. i cannot relate to only having deep, intimate connections with one person. i cannot relate to having my love and life be concentrated in one relationship. it's criminal how this new guy just usurps her life. just fills up every crevice and pushes everyone out.

it also makes het-couples such insufferable fucking martyrs, if not the smuggest most self-centred drags. all of a sudden it's "us against the world" and "no one gets me like you do" and everyone who doesn't like your PDA is just jealous? oh word? because i've watched you lie to each other's faces about shit you wouldn't lie about with me. your friends and family do "get you" they're just not obligated to pay you the kind of attention a romantic relationship traditionally demands (no matter how unsustainable and unrealistic). and look, i get that the more time you spend together, the closer you'll be. if you're living with your partner, chances are you're close. like duh. but i cannot fathom, genuinely, i cannot fathom how ONE person in your ENTIRE LIFE takes center stage.

that's what i fundamentally disagree with. why is there a CENTRAL PERSON? why does that make sense to anyone? genuinely how can you have a central person????? why can't you have a variety of deep relationships? why are you only willing to pour so much effort into ONE relationship? it just sounds more and more insane to me. like maybe i'm just crazy, and i thought that all my mutual relationships deserved my time, effort, intention and focus and that just because i lived with some and not others, or had sex with some and not others, they were all just "people in my life that i love." it's probably why i can imagine not living with someone i date for life. like if i was to forsake the febfem thing and date a man, i would neither marry nor live with him and that would make 100% sense to me, because like, he's one among many of my loves. why do we have to share a bed? i haven't shared a bed since i was 12. why do we have to do EVERYTHING together? i hate the fucking codependency.

you say shit like that and people look at you crazy. "but he's your PARTNER" "you must not be in love with him." i am in love with all sorts of people in my life every day. but i don't cling to any one of them as my end-all-be-all. i may not love them all equally, but i don't have a ONE. that's the thing. i just don't have a ONE because it doesn't make sense to me. each relationship has its own individual flavour, and all are worthy to me. the kind of relationship it is does not actually determine how much love and intimacy is there.

but even on a socioeconomic scale, romance is just patriarchal nonsense. it's all about starting your own family unit. leaving your families to become your own. in most cases, it's a woman leaving HER community and HER job and HER friends and HER family to integrate into the man's life. which is why men don't switch up so fucking horrendously when they get into relationships. they legit do not change 99.9% of the time.

i'm just so tired of adults treating life like a disney movie and getting mad when i don't. like no i do not believe in "the one." no i do not believe in "happily ever after." the entire thing just screams co-dependence and infantalism. with how some of these couples talk, i'm convinced they use each other as an easier way to gain social status and get new parents. the mommification of girlfriends and daddification of boyfriends sickens me. to my fucking core. like you're just here to make each other regress so that you trap each other there. people who weren't insecure wouldn't act like this. like they'd have that bigness to them. they're often more open with their love and time, and they have a rich community that they built themselves around them. they're intentional with all their relationships and they don't treat their partners as shields from society's stigmas. which is why their relationships aren't plagued by mistrust and controlling behaviour. (interestingly, i usually see this in people who married old like when their hair was starting to grey and a few lesbian couples)

but for romancepilled couples it's so miserable and small and pathetic and i'm so tired of watching it happen and holding my tongue. like heal and grow up.

[crazedbluette]

Skeletons (and Guns) in the Closet

A John Wick x Ex-Assassin Male Reader

Summary: You and John have built a quiet life together—peaceful, normal… but neither of you is what you pretend to be. When John accidentally uncovers your past, you both learn something surprising: you’re not alone in the shadows you left behind. And maybe, finally, you can stop running from who you are.

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence, trauma references, identity concealment, emotional suppression, past abuse, brief mentions of blood, dissociation, mild language, implied mental health struggles, slight smut near the end

A/N at the end! Not beta read, we die like John Wick. Y/N not used, Readers downstairs area isn't mentioned.

The apartment smelled like fresh espresso and rain. Jazz murmured softly from the record player. You could hear the gentle click of John’s mug being placed on the windowsill, followed by the slow rustle of his sleeve as he leaned into the light.

It was raining again.

Of course it was. Your favorite mornings were always rainy ones. The world outside slowed down, wrapped in soft grey fog. Everything in here felt warm by comparison—lit by amber light and the kind of quiet only found between people who understood silence wasn’t absence.

John moved like he was born in it. The kind of quiet that came from knowing violence intimately, and choosing—again and again—not to live in it anymore.

At least, that’s what you believed. What you hoped.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe it was the way he kissed you good morning without a word, or how he always made enough coffee for two even before you’d moved in.

You weren’t supposed to fall for anyone. You’d built your life out of lies—fake names, burner phones, dead drops and distance. You had killed for nations and corporations alike, walked away from it all, and told yourself you could start fresh.

You told yourself that this life with him was real.

But neither of you were what you appeared to be.

You came home late. Wet from the rain, grocery bag slung over your shoulder, fingers aching with the cold.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

You noticed the change before you even stepped fully inside. Something in the air—off-kilter. Still.

And then you saw it.

The bookshelf.

Slightly ajar. Just wide enough for someone to see what was behind it.

Your heart stopped.

You dropped the bag without thinking. Apples spilled across the hardwood as you stepped forward, already knowing what you’d find.

There he stood.

John.

Back turned to you, eyes fixed on the wall-mounted arsenal that had been hidden behind a lifetime’s worth of literature. Weapons. Files. A few currencies, a few names. Everything that made you who you once were—laid bare.

He didn’t speak right away. He reached for a knife, turned it in his hands. The handle was black and polished, inlaid with a symbol only three men in the world would recognize.

He turned it over slowly. “You know,” he said, voice calm, “you really should’ve changed your dead drop codes. 4-1-6-9-Theta is old-school.”

You swallowed, hard. "You know what that is?" You asked, unsure if you even want to know the answer to your question.

He turned then. His expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even surprised. It was�� knowing. Tired.

“I used to use that cipher myself. A long time ago.”

You stared at him. “You’re not… who I thought you were.”

He let out a breath through his nose. “Neither are you.”

You sat across from him on the couch, your secrets heavy between you. The weapons closet was closed again, but the damage had been done. The truth wasn’t going back behind a lock.

John had poured you both whiskey. His hand didn’t shake. Yours did.

“I used to be known as the Ghost,” you said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Some parts of Europe… Casablanca, Istanbul—they still talk about me like I’m a myth.”

He said nothing, just watched you.

“I got out five years ago. Faked a body, disappeared. Told myself I’d never go back.” You looked at him. “Told myself I could be normal.”

John sipped his drink. “And I’m the Baba Yaga. Or what’s left of him.”

Your blood ran cold.

“I heard stories about you,” you said. “I didn’t believe most of them.”

“They’re probably all true,” he murmured. “But I’m not that man anymore.”

A long pause.

You turned your glass in your hands. “How did we not see it? In each other?”

“I think we did,” John said, finally. “We just didn’t want to.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was relief.

You’d spent months learning John’s routines. The way he folded his shirts with military precision. The way his voice dropped when he asked if you’d eaten. The way he always positioned himself between you and the door in public spaces.

He noticed your tells, too. The way you scanned exits. How you never sat with your back to a room. The tremble in your fingers when you slept too light, dreamed too deep.

You had both known. Somewhere, in your bones, you had known.

But knowing didn’t make what you had any less real.

John leaned toward you, setting his glass down. “I never lied to you. I just… didn’t want to go back to that world.”

“Neither did I.”

He reached for your hand.

You let him take it.

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “Aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened. “All the time.”

His fingers brushed your knuckles. “Then let’s stop running. Together.”

You exhaled slowly. “I don’t even know what that looks like.”

John offered a rare, soft smile. “Let’s find out.”

That night, you didn’t make love like men who were trying to forget something.

You made love like men who had found something.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frenzied. It was slow, reverent—hands mapping scars like old stories. Lips tracing collarbones, fingertips ghosting over hipbones. You moaned into his mouth, breathless, as he held you like you were something rare and fragile.

You whispered each other’s names like prayers.

And when you were both lying there—skin to skin, hearts pounding—you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Peace.

John kissed your shoulder. “You’re safe.”

You rolled to face him. “With you… yeah.”

In the morning, sunlight slipped in through the blinds in soft ribbons.

You padded into the kitchen, shirtless and groggy, and found him reorganizing your weapons closet—again.

“You alphabetized my sidearms,” you said flatly.

He didn’t turn. “Your trigger springs were stored next to your .22 ammo. That’s chaos.”

You sipped your coffee. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

He turned to look at you, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know.”

You walked up, wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rested your chin on his shoulder.

“No more secrets?”

He covered your hand with his own. “Never again.”

You stood there in silence, two killers with your arms around each other, surrounded by hidden weapons and half-eaten pancakes and sunlight.

For the first time in years, the world didn’t feel like a battlefield.

It felt like home.

A/N: "Pierre this isn't Whisking Hearts Chapter 1" GUYS, I KNOW. It's already finished, I'm just having it proofread by a friend before publishing! This isn’t my best work but I was rewatching the John Wick franchise and I was reminded how 🔥 Keanu Reeves is. I was literally writing this while watching lmao. But have this while waiting for WH Chap 1! Graphic and Divider are below!

Graphic

Divider

Please reblog and comment if you liked it! It helps keep me motivated!

[camficdiner]

1.2

2.10

3.1

4.3

i think you’re gonna cook with this one 🙏🏼

☕️Cam’s Fic Diner – Order 025

Thank you for your sweetness and patience — this one’s been a journey, a fully on fluff journey, with regrets and tears,

Enjoy your meal love, its served with honey glaze

-your favorite server

⸻

💬“She Had Your Eyes”

✨ Description & Prompts

• Character: Quinn Hughes

• Prompt: Drunk marriage in Vegas, accidental pregnancy, emotional confrontation

• Word Count: ~2.1k

• Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family

🛼✨🧁🍒

Las Vegas was supposed to be a quick getaway. A fun escape from your routines, a wild weekend with friends, some bad decisions and blurry photos. You never expected to wake up in a luxury suite at The Cosmopolitan, your mouth dry, your head pounding, and Quinn Hughes sleeping next to you — shirtless, tangled in the hotel sheets.

And definitely wearing a wedding band.

You sat up too fast, blinking at the ring on your own finger. Your heart thudded, first with confusion, then with a growing pit in your stomach. The echo of last night’s chaos slowly filtered in — the shots, the dance floor, the neon lights, Quinn’s laughter, his arm around your waist. You remembered a chapel. Pink. Elvis impersonator. The words “I do.”

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no.”

A low groan came from the other side of the bed. Quinn.

He looked just as wrecked as you felt: messy curls sticking up in every direction, red-rimmed eyes, shirtless. And when he sat up, he mirrored your horror as you both stared at your left hands.

“We didn’t—” he started.

“We did,” you said grimly.

You both lunged for your phones. Sure enough, your camera rolls confirmed it: a chapel, a very happy officiant, and you and Quinn grinning like idiots with glitter in your hair and rings on your fingers.

Quinn Hughes, your very complicated friend-with-benefits, your maybe-something-more-but-never-defined, had married you. In Vegas. While drunk.

You remembered the sex too. Vaguely. It had been good—scratch that, amazing. But also messy and unexpected and clearly not thought through.

Quinn freaked out.

He stood, muttering about mistakes and how this couldn’t be real, how he had to leave. You tried to talk to him, to get him to calm down, but he was already pulling on his jeans, grabbing his phone.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled.

“Quinn—”

He was gone before you could stop him.

⸻

Three days later, you stared at the two pink lines on a pregnancy test.

The silence of your bathroom was deafening.

You weren’t sure how you got there. How from a half-joking night in Vegas, a half-relationship with Quinn Hughes, you ended up alone, with a baby on the way. You hadn’t heard a word from him. Not a text. Not a call.

And that’s when you saw it. A story. A post. A girl — tall, blonde, draped over him like she belonged there. And the caption: “My whole heart.”

Your throat closed. He hadn’t ghosted you because he panicked. He hadn’t vanished because he was scared. He was with someone else.

You were just the detour. The accident.

So you did what you had to: you called your brother.

He showed up twenty minutes later, no questions asked, and held you while you sobbed. Then, slowly, piece by piece, you began to rebuild.

The months passed. The bump grew. Your brother went to every appointment with you, holding your hand while you heard the heartbeat for the first time, while you picked names, while you decorated a nursery in your new apartment.

And you tried—really tried—not to look at Quinn’s Instagram.

But you saw it anyway.

The James Norris Trophy. A clean suit, his proud smile. “Couldn’t have done it without the team.”

Then, a month later, an Instagram story from Porsche Centre Vancouver: “Thrilled to welcome Quinn Hughes as our newest brand ambassador.”

Each announcement was a dagger. Because he was out there, living his best life, achieving everything he’d ever dreamed of—and you were in the quiet of your small apartment, folding newborn onesies and wondering if he ever thought about you. About that night. About what you were now carrying.

You didn’t want him back. Not after he ran. But part of you, some deep, aching part, wished he would at least ask.

Because even if your heart was fractured, your body swollen and tired and aching, you were growing something beautiful.

And he didn’t even know.

—

The hospital lights were harsh, too white, too real for the blur of pain and panic you were in. Your fingers clenched around the side of the bed as another contraction hit, tearing through your spine. You were alone, but not lonely — not anymore. Because you weren’t doing this just for yourself.

You were about to meet the only constant that had stayed with you since that night in Vegas. And she was coming fast.

You screamed, you pushed — and suddenly, everything fell away.

The nurse’s voice filtered in through the haze. “It’s a girl.”

Your chest heaved. Your hands trembled as they placed her on your chest, slick and warm and alive. The world narrowed to a heartbeat and the softest cry.

And then you saw them.

Her eyes.

Deep blue a touch lighter than yours, with some green in it. Familiar. Exactly the same shade as his.

Quinn.

You’d spent the past nine months trying not to think of him. Trying to erase the weight of the Instagram post that shattered your heart — his smile beside her, captioned “Heart”

But now, here she was. With his eyes. The proof that Vegas wasn’t just a mistake. It had left you with someone permanent.

You named her Olympia.

⸻

Three Years Later

Vancouver in early spring was always wet and green. You’d found peace in its stillness, a small rented flat near the sea, and a part-time job at a bookstore that let you be home by three.

Olympia ran ahead on chubby legs, clutching her red balloon and squealing as the ducks in the park scrambled. Her hair curled in soft brown waves. Her laugh was infectious. She was everything.

And yet —

You still looked him up sometimes.

You knew Jack had moved closer. That his family still spoke well of you.

But you never reached out.

And then you saw them.

Two figures coming down the paved path, side by side. Quinn and Jack. Laughing about something. You froze mid-step, your heart doing a strange, sharp twist.

You hadn’t seen him in person since that morning in Vegas.

Quinn stopped first.

His eyes scanned you, then softened in surprise. His lips parted slightly, like a question was sitting on his tongue but hadn’t formed yet.

Jack said something, but you didn’t hear it.

“Hey…” Quinn’s voice was quiet, unsure. “It’s been a while.”

You nodded, tensing your jaw. You were about to reply when you heard her.

“Mama!”

Olly’s voice rang out, bright and high, and she came toddling over, arms outstretched.

You bent to scoop her up, hugging her to your hip like muscle memory. You didn’t look at him yet. Not yet.

But when you did—

Quinn’s face had changed.

His eyes locked on Olympia.

Then flicked to you.

Then back.

His expression folded inward, shock overtaking confusion. Because there, in your arms, was a little girl with his exact same eyes. The same curl in her hair. The same shape to her mouth.

His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “She’s yours?”

You didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything.

You saw it in his eyes before you heard it in his voice — the slow-burning panic blooming behind his irises, the sharp, silent question written in the twitch of his jaw: She looks like me. How is that possible?

Quinn stared at your daughter like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t dared to ask himself in three years. You adjusted her on your hip, her tiny hand curled around your necklace as she blinked up at the stranger. Stranger to her, anyway.

“She yours?” he asked, voice raw, cautious.

“She’s mine,” you answered carefully, but your voice cracked under the weight of truth, and you saw it land.

That hurt that bloomed over his face—it was real.

“But is she…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

You nodded once. “Yes. She’s yours, Quinn.”

His breath caught. It wasn’t relief—it was devastation, thick and swallowing. He stepped back a little, like the truth physically hit him. Jack said something behind him, but it was muffled, distant. This was Quinn’s storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly.

You looked down at your daughter, then back up at him. “Because you left me. You ran out of that hotel room like I was a mistake, and a few days later, you were posting pictures with your girlfriend on Instagram. I found out I was pregnant the same week.”

Quinn was silent.

“You didn’t even check if I was okay,” you continued, words trembling now. “You never texted. Never called. I thought you didn’t care. And I wasn’t going to beg someone to be a father who didn’t want to be there.”

Quinn’s hands were shaking. “I didn’t know how to deal with it. I panicked. I was scared—”

“You were selfish, Quinn,” you snapped, more pain than anger. “I was terrified. I went through pregnancy alone. I gave birth alone. I’ve raised her—every scraped knee, every nightmare, every milestone. Alone.”

Tears brimmed in his eyes.

“I never wanted you to be alone,” he whispered. “I was a coward. I thought if I ignored it, it would disappear. But it didn’t. You didn’t. And now she’s here and she looks at me like she knows me and I—”

He stopped himself, choking on the weight of it all.

“I want to know her,” he said finally. “Please. Let me try.”

You didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no.

—

It started small. A text asking how she was doing. A message asking what kind of books she liked. A FaceTime where she shyly showed him her dinosaur pajamas. And slowly—like thawing ice—he melted into her life.

He came to the playground and pushed her on the swing. She reached for his hand without hesitation.

He showed up at your door with her favorite muffins and left with marker drawings all over his forearms.

The first time she called him “Dad,” he cried. Quietly. You saw it, though. And your heart cracked open.

Then came the big things.

Introducing her to Ellen and Jim. Watching Jack fall in love with her in five minutes flat. Quinn holding her on the bench of a Canucks pre-game warmup, helmet on her head three sizes too big.

And one day, he stood in front of you, nerves in his fingers, and said, “I left her. A while ago. The girlfriend. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to show up like a white knight.”

“You’re not a white knight,” you replied. “But you’re trying. That means something.”

He took your hand. Carefully. “Can we try too?”

You blinked. “Try what?”

He smiled, small and real. “Us.”

Your daughter ran between you both just then, laughing with her pigtails bouncing, and without thinking, you reached out together—one hand each, steadying her between you.

You looked at her. Then at him.

And for the first time in three years, you let yourself believe that maybe… just maybe… things weren’t broken.

Just unfinished.

——

It started with a question, whispered one quiet evening in your daughter’s room.

Quinn had come to tuck her in like he did now every night he was in Vancouver. She’d taken to calling him “Q” at first, unsure of what else to call him. Now it was “Daddy.” Sometimes “Daddy Q,” when she was being silly.

That night, as he settled the stuffed unicorn into her arms and brushed her dark hair behind her ear, she blinked up at him with those same eyes. His eyes.

“Daddy?” she asked, voice small. “Are you and mommy married?”

Quinn blinked. He glanced over his shoulder at you. You smiled softly, already knowing this day would come.

“Kind of,” he said, trying to be gentle. “A long time ago. But not… not properly.”

She frowned. “I want it to be properly.”

It stayed in his head all night.

And three days later, as the two of you stood on your balcony, wine glasses in hand, watching the Vancouver skyline glow like it was holding your secret, he turned to you.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to be my almost-wife. I want you to be my real wife.”

You turned to him, stunned.

He didn’t go down on one knee. He just took your hand, kissed the ring that never left it — the one from Vegas you never dared to take off — and added softly, “Let’s do it right this time.”

⸻

The wedding was small. Intimate.

Held in Vancouver, at a garden you’d always loved as a child. Your daughter wore a white dress with tulle wings sewn onto the back. She walked down the aisle holding a little velvet box, cheeks flushed with excitement, while Jack — proudly grinning — waited at Quinn’s side as best man.

Your dress wasn’t flashy. It was soft, elegant. Your bouquet was wildflowers. And as you reached the end of the aisle, your daughter took your hand and placed it into Quinn’s, the whole garden holding its breath.

Quinn looked at you like it was the first time. Even after everything — the mistake, the heartbreak, the rediscovery — he still looked at you like you were the beginning and end of his world.

“I do,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

You couldn’t stop the tears as you said it back.

⸻

The reception was simple — a long table under strings of lights, family and friends all gathered. Jack toasted to “the only couple I’ve ever known who got married in reverse order.” Your daughter climbed into Quinn’s lap halfway through the cake. He fed her the icing off his finger, kissing her temple like he’d never lost a single day.

Later, you danced to no music under the stars, her asleep in her flower girl dress in your mother’s arms.

“I always meant it,” he whispered in your ear. “Even back then. Even when I was scared. I’ve loved you every damn second.”

You pressed your cheek to his.

“Then here’s to forever.”

And in the warm hush of the garden, his lips met yours.

What happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas.

It just…

Came home in time.

⸻

[bakugotrashpanda]

Summer Lovin’

Chapter 1: Road Trip

Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Dabi x Reader

⫸ Word Count: 785

⪢ Chapter Select

Time for the beach.

Dropping a cardboard box filled with old clothes, memorabilia, and so many goddamn notebooks on your porch, you wave at the flashy convertible pulling up to your house. Three of your closest friends cheer and honk as you show off the growing pile of absolute shit accruing outside.

You slip back inside and glance around one last time. It seems… empty. Which is good. Grabbing a bulging backpack and a bottle you left on the counter, you hesitate and eye a second bottle you know is hiding in the cupboard. You could… but it’s just a couple days. If you really need more, you can always buy more out at the coast.

“Girl’s trip!” you cheer and toss your bag into the back of the car. Ochako scooches over to make room for you. Auburn eyes look around before shooting you a questioning look.

“Is that all you’re bringing?” she asks. “There’s room in the trunk if you need it. We said everyone could bring one suitcase.”

You pin your best friend with a serious look and raise the bottle in your hand. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey and whatever clothes I could throw in a bag. I’m good.”

“Did you pack a swimsuit?” Jiro asks from the front seat.

You probably didn’t but you’re not going back inside now. “Looks like we’ll find out!” 

“Hold on to your hats,” Mina says from the driver seat and flips down her sunglasses, “We’re on vacation!” With one last look behind you, you watch the pile of boxes and bags get smaller and smaller as Mina zips away from your home. A gentle squeeze on your hand brings you back to the moment, and you smile at Ochako and squeeze her hand back reassuringly.

Jiro does a great job as DJ at playing nostalgic music from before, when you were single, carefree, and not bitter about a breakup. It wraps around you like a comforting blanket and eases your worry.

You all show up at Momo’s house singing at the top of your lungs, not worrying about disturbing the neighbors. She slides into the middle of the back and passes around sunscreen as Mina peels away from the upscale neighborhood.

Greys of the city’s highrises fade to the warm yellows and greens of trees in early summer. You inhale deeply, fresh air cleansing your lungs of the stifling life you want to leave behind. An hour and a half later, salty ocean spray mixes with the freshness. Faint gull cries in the distance mingle with the crash of ocean waves.

The two-story, cream and charmingly faded blue house with a wraparound porch is fenced in at the front with a head height hedge wall. It’s just as quaint as the booking pictures made it out to be. A spacious kitchen and an open backyard that lines the beach, you can already imagine doing facemasks, watching movies, and dancing around a fire with your group as the stars wink from above.

A fresh start, just what you need.

“And we have the most beautiful neighbors to keep us company!” A familiar voice calls from the house next door.

Whipping around, you see one of the last people you wanted to see this weekend. “Are you shitting me?”

“Aw, cheer up!” Even now, Denki’s infectious smile has the opposite reaction he probably wanted and sinks your spirits even further.

“Denki, what are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you!”

Doubt it. You can’t help the snort that escapes. Might as well head back inside before you say something you regret – he’s not the closest friend, but he’s still a friend nonetheless.

“I thought it was just a girls trip,” you say sulkily to yourself. It was supposed to be just the girls. It was supposed to be a time for you to recover.

It was supposed to be a romantic getaway trip before you were dumped.

“Denki caught wind of our trip and decided the guys needed one too,” Jiro rubs her arm uncomfortably and flicks a glance to you. “I… think he heard at work.” Work. With your ex. Fffffffuck him. He would not ruin this trip for you. You could rise above this. You are cool, calm, and collected.

Apparently, you didn’t do a good enough job of seeming cool and unbothered as Jiro abruptly turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. How did they know exactly where you would be too?

“Ochako,” you whine as she passes with a cooler in her hand, “I didn’t want to think about boys this weekend.”

“It’s fine,” she smiles reassuringly. “I’m sure they’ll keep to themselves.”

It’s a lie and you both know it.

⪢ Next Chapter

A/N: Some of these will be short, some long, also no tag list this time

[morningmask27]

Fucked up exam, truly EVIL questions

[daily-whistlebreeze]

daily whiwtlebreeze until e becomes PoV day 1622

today's exam was EVIL (and I still have two to go </3)

[societyfolklore]

We Couldn’t Stop

Title: We Couldn’t Stop Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers 

Summary:  During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until it’s too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- you’re forced to ride out the drug’s effects together.

Word Count:  7k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Sex Pollen / Drugged Lust, Threesome MFM, Dubious Consent (due to drug influence), Double Penetration, Oral (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex/Overstimulationm Fingering, anal ply, cum play, Competitive Doms

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo Square: A3- Threesome Card Number: KB003

The mission was supposed to be a simple sweep- an old HYDRA lab buried deep beneath the forest floor, long abandoned, just a routine retrieval run for leftover tech and encrypted files that could pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. You, Steve, and Bucky had done that sort of thing more times than you could count. Clear the rooms, grab the drives, secure any volatile tech, and call for extraction. In and out. Easy.

You should’ve known better the moment you stepped inside. The facility was too quiet, too intact. Dust settled thick on the floors, but the lights still flickered dimly overhead, and the security systems were half-alive, humming low like they were waiting.

You were the one who found the sealed door- reinforced, heavily protected, and drawing power. It was locked down tight, tucked at the end of a corridor where the flickering lights didn’t quite reach. You called the others over.

"You think it’s storage?" Bucky asked, frowning at the biometric pad.

"Locked and powered," you muttered. "Could be data. Or maybe just a lab they forgot to scrub."

"Let's not poke the bear," Steve said, but he stepped up beside you anyway, scanning the door. "Looks like it's sealed for a reason."

That should've been the moment you backed off. But your fingers were already dancing over the keypad, overriding the old security system. The panel blinked. Clicked.

"I’ve almost got- "

The door hissed. Not wide- barely a few inches.

A soft spray hit you all in the face.

It came fast. Silent. A puff of pressurized mist like compressed air, followed by the faintest scent- ozone, chemical sweetness, almost floral.

You stumbled back, coughing once.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky barked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the door. "You okay? Did you breathe it in?"

"Yeah, but- I don’t feel anything."

"We’re all covered in it," Bucky snapped, glaring at the faint sheen settling over Steve’s shoulders. "Fucking hell."

"Close it," Steve ordered.

Bucky slammed the door shut, sealing it again with a growl. "Old security measure. Shit."

"We’ll report it," Steve said, but his jaw was clenched.

The spray clung to your skin. Sweet. Heavy. And whatever it was, it was in all three of you now.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

By the time the jet touched down back at the compound, you were already flushed and aching, your heart thudding too fast in your chest. Whatever had come out of that door- it clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made everything inside you feel off. You weren’t the only one affected. Bucky was pacing the perimeter of the quinjet like a caged animal. Steve hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes, but his white-knuckled grip on the back of a seat said everything.

You’d hoped the decontamination shower would be the end of it. But blood was still taken. Swabs run over your skin. Scans. More questions. Until finally, they left the three of you in the quarantine room- one sterile space, no outside contact, and cameras in every corner.

You wanted to apologize. This had been your mistake. But Bucky’s expression was pure storm as he continued to pace like a tiger in a zoo. Steve’s face was unreadable- steely, distant, controlled. So you kept your mouth shut and tried not to scratch at your skin like you desperately wanted.

Soft static crackled, and then Tony’s voice filled the room over the speaker. "It’s biochemical bonding serum," he said. "Looks like it's engineered to push subjects into a state of hyperarousal and submission, designed to override inhibition and drive instinctual behaviors."

Your stomach dropped. What kind of mess had you landed yourself in?

"How long?" Bucky snapped, voice sharp.

"We'll have to check back on the decay and metabolic rate, and we- "

"What Bruce means is- we don't know," Tony cut in. "For you guys, it might be a matter of hours. Little Miss Curiosity might be stuck with it in her system a little longer."

You flinched and shied away from the speaker, burying your face in your hands.

"We're working on it, don't stress. It shouldn't kill you," Tony added casually.

"Big fucking whoop," Bucky growled, pressing a fist into the wall. Steve shot him a look of disproval. 

"Buck.." His tone warning. 

"Just, try and stay calm, guys," Bruce said, trying to sound optimistic. "It'll be alright."

"Don’t make a mess," Tony said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We’ll keep you posted."

And just like that, you were cut off again. Biochemical- engineered arousal.

"Well, you heard him," Steve sighed, leaning back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We just have to keep our heads. It can’t last forever."

That was easy for him to say. Both Steve and Bucky had super soldier serum in their veins- enhanced bodies that could regulate, adapt, maybe even resist. You… you were human. And you could already feel your body reacting in ways that made your skin itch and your blood feel like it was boiling.

You didn't say anything. Just shifted your weight, trying not to squirm. The heat beneath your skin pulsed steadily now, like it was alive.

"This is fucked," Bucky muttered, pacing again. "They just dumped us in here like we’re some kind of experiment."

"They’re doing what they can," Steve said, tone calm but tight. "We don’t know enough yet. Getting worked up won’t help."

"Worked up?" Bucky turned on him, eyes flashing. "You don’t feel that?"

Steve’s jaw flexed. "Of course I feel it."

"Then quit acting like you don’t."

You glanced between them, heart racing. The tension in the room was building again, only this time it wasn’t from anger- it was something heavier. Thicker. Clinging to the air like smoke.

And under it all, that hum beneath your skin only grew louder. 

Hours had passed.

You'd started pacing a little while ago, unable to sit still. Movement helped. Not much- but it was something. You were going through the water they'd left in the room like you were dying of thirst. You were hot, sticky, your tank damp and clinging to your body, and you were doing everything you could to ignore the throbbing pulse between your legs.

You kept moving. Pacing. Trying to shake it off.

Steve watched from the far cot, jaw tight. His shirt was damp, his breath shallow, but he was sitting like he was trying to pretend everything was normal.

Bucky was pacing again, eyes locked on you more often than not, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. “She smells different,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rough, raw sound of his voice made your head twitch like it was a physical thing pulling at you.

"Gonna try and sleep," you muttered, not looking at either of them.

Maybe you'd be able to sleep through the worst of it. Maybe if you were lucky, your body would calm down. You slipped behind the thin curtain, stepping into the tiny corner of privacy around your cot. Laying down, the heat of your body only seemed to intensify. Your skin felt suffocated, and with a frustrated sigh, you peeled your tank top over your head, leaving you in just your bra, hoping the exposure would help you breathe easier.

It didn’t.

You curled onto your side, arms around your stomach, thighs pressed tight together. The ache between your legs was a constant, heavy throb now. Maybe… maybe you could just handle your own needs. Just enough to take the edge off. Anything to ease the ache.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the thin blanket around you and lay on the cot. There was a small curtain for privacy, but it did nothing to muffle the sounds when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

You tried to be quiet. Tried to hold your breath. But your body was on fire, and even the gentlest brush of your fingers sent you bucking.

A whimper escaped, broken and desperate.

And then you heard it- Steve’s voice. Low. Strained.

“Don’t- don’t do that.”

You froze. “I- I can’t- ”

Still, you didn’t stop. You rubbed faster, then slower, your fingers diving inside of you, pressing deeper, trying every angle- but nothing worked. Every shift of your hand sent sparks across your nerves, your breath hitching with each pulse of pressure, but the fire wouldn’t break. Your legs trembled, your toes curled, but it all stayed out of reach.

You changed angles, tried circling your clit with trembling fingers while your other hand held onto the edge of the cot like it could ground you. You rocked your hips up, whispered pleas into the dark, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed more- needed them- but all you had were your own shaking hands and the unbearable ache growing between your legs.

Your breath hitched again as frustration bloomed hot and frantic in your chest. You were soaking, your thighs slick, the air sticky with the scent of your arousal. Your skin was flushed and clammy, your body locked in this endless loop of need- and yet you still couldn’t fall over that edge. Not like this. Not alone.

"You gonna keep pretending you don’t want her?" Bucky asked, voice low and rough, growling on the other side of the curtain.

Steve didn’t move at first, but his voice followed, strained. "I can smell her arousal from here, Buck. You think I’m not affected?"

"She’s whimpering, Steve. Sounds like music to me."

"We’re not doing this. We can’t- "

"Fuck this. She needs someone."

"Don’t you fucking touch her," Steve snapped.

"Then you do something," Bucky fired back.

Silence followed. You pressed your fingers deeper, hips rocking, but it wasn’t working. You were going to explode- your body was wound so tight it hurt.

Your fingers weren’t enough. You begged, voice cracking, desperate and broken.

"Please... please someone- "

Someone pulled the curtain back. Bucky’s eyes were dark. Blown wide. He didn’t speak. It hurt. “I can’t…” you whimpered, barely able to speak. “It’s not working…”

Your hips shifted again instinctively, your fingers still caught between your thighs, but the tension was unbearable. You were so wet, so swollen with need, it was maddening- and yet release stayed just out of reach. Your body craved more than your own touch could give.

They both appeared, stepping past the curtain without a word. You could see it in their faces- this was affecting them just as much. Steve’s eyes were dark, jaw clenched. Bucky looked wrecked, barely human with how sharp and hungry his expression had become.

You writhed again on the cot, body shaking, and Steve moved first- his weight shifting over you as he pressed your shoulders down into the mattress with steady, unyielding hands.

"Stay still," he said, voice gravel-thick.

At the same time, Bucky grabbed your wrist and gently pulled your hand away from you.

You whined, hips arched up, as Bucky’s gaze dropped to your slick fingers. He looked transfixed. Obsessed. His mouth parted before he dragged his tongue along your digits, groaning low in his chest at the taste.

Then- without breaking eye contact- he brought your hand to Steve.

"Tell me again we shouldn’t do this," Bucky said, voice rough and knowing.

Steve hesitated, staring at your hand, your eyes, then your body.

"...Steve?" you pleaded, chest heaving. A bead of sweat slid down your ribs, slicking your skin as the heat inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Help... please."

Steve’s jaw flexed. His eyes raked over your flushed, trembling body, lingering where your bra had ridden up from the way you were squirming, the curve of your thighs glistening in the low light.

Bucky didn’t speak. He just stood there beside him, wild-eyed and rigid, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. The scent of you filled the air. Thick. Sweet. Desperate.

Steve exhaled through his nose, heavy and slow like he was trying to exhale restraint. It didn’t work.

"You’re going to regret begging so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, finally moving closer, the promise behind his words like thunder rolling through your veins.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

They were both on you.

You didn’t know who moved first- Steve’s hand slid up your thigh, firm and sure, while Bucky’s mouth was suddenly at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The tension shattered. Clothing came off in frantic tugs- your joggers peeled away, your bra unclasped and discarded. Steve’s tank was tossed aside. Bucky’s sweats hit the floor with a low rustle.

Heat and skin and breath surrounded you. Their bodies pressed in, solid and hot and overwhelming. Steve's chest pinned you down as he kissed you- hard and consuming- his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned into your mouth. His hands cupped your jaw, fingers splayed, tilting your head how he wanted it.

Bucky moved lower, lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping along your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down the cot toward him with a roughness that made you moan. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your inner thighs, worshipping each inch like it belonged to him.

You gasped, arching into the touch of both of them. Their mouths- wet and demanding. Their bodies- slick with sweat, grinding against you like they couldn't get close enough.

You'd all held out for so long. Now there was nothing but the letting go.

Every nerve ending in your body sparked like live wires with every touch- every graze of skin against skin sent jolts of unbearable sensation through you. It was impossible to stay still. Your limbs twitched, your hips rocked, your breath came in short, gasping pulls as your body tried to process too much, too fast.

“Don’t move,” Steve growled, voice rough but laced with something gentler beneath. “Too sensitive? No. You’re just not used to being handled right.”

Bucky pushed your legs open wider, guiding your knees apart until your calves hung off the edge of the cot, completely exposed, completely theirs. “She’s soaking,” Bucky breathed. “Fucking hell- she’s dripping down her thighs.” The cool air kissed your slick folds and made you shiver. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, and fingers plunged into you- two, maybe three. You didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

Steve’s mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over the top curve of your breast before his lips closed around your nipple. You sobbed, your body already arching upward from the overload.

The blonde growled against your skin, one hand gripping your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to bow your spine upward. You gasped, helpless, writhing between them, your body trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re taking it so well,” Steve murmured, voice low and rough. “Just like that. Good girl.”

“Look at her,” Bucky snarled. “That’s it, sweetheart- ride my hand. Come on. Take what you need.”

His fingers worked deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the cot. His palm pressed against your clit with every motion, grinding you into the edge of bliss, holding you there with cruel precision. You could feel everything. Every ridge of his knuckles, every flex of his wrist. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You whimpered, your hands scrambling against the sheets, seeking something to hold onto as your body rocked with each relentless stroke. Steve bit gently at the underside of your jaw, his hand still twisted in your hair as he whispered praises that barely reached your ears over the rushing roar of need building inside you.

Steve’s mouth was on your chest again, sucking one nipple into the heat of his mouth while his hand massaged the other, groping you with a needy rhythm that only made it harder to breathe. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair again, gently tugging until your spine arched up off the cot, your body straining toward both of them.

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed into your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Your breath hitched, head tipping back as you let out a broken moan.

"OH FUCK." you cried, fingers clawing at the side of the cot, knuckles white.

He didn’t stop. His fingers pumped into you, slick and steady, coaxing the sound out of your throat again and again. You felt like you were vibrating- nerve endings lit up with fire, each touch sparking through you like electricity.

“You hear that, punk?” Bucky’s voice dripped with ego. “That’s the sound of my fingers making her cry.” Steve shifted beside you, sitting up to watch, his eyes locked on where Bucky's fingers slid in and out of you. One of his hands moved down, low and out of sight, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep control.

Bucky glanced back at him, grinning as he curled his fingers just right and made you cry out again.

"Look at her, Stevie," Bucky growled, his voice rough and ragged with arousal. He didn’t even look up, just watched his fingers slide in and out of you like it was the most important thing in the world. "She’s writhing just from my fingers. What happens when I put my cock in?"

"You’ll wait," Steve snapped, voice sharp, strained with barely checked control. He was flushed, jaw tight, clearly fighting the same battle Bucky was already losing.

"God, look at her," Bucky muttered again, breath coming faster. "Fuck, I want her mouth. I want every part."

You couldn’t answer. Your vision blurred. Every nerve in your body felt like it had snapped tight, vibrating with unbearable pressure.

And then it broke.

You came- hard.

Your whole body convulsed as the orgasm tore through you. Your legs kicked against the cot, arms flailing blindly for purchase. Steve had to hold you down, one hand braced across your chest, the other still tangled in your hair as your back arched and a strangled sob tore from your throat.

It didn’t end quickly. The drug made it last- your climax dragging on and on, crashing over you in waves so powerful they left you gasping, wrecked.

You felt Bucky’s fingers slow inside you, easing off just enough to let you ride it out without breaking. But they didn’t stop touching you. They didn’t let you go.

And worst of all, the haze in your head didn’t clear like you hoped it would.

You were still shaking. Still needy.

Still burning.

You were a panting mess, your skin still hot and your chest tight when one of them scooped you up and lay you out on the cool floor. The shock of it made you gasp, the chill a sudden relief against your fevered skin. You blinked your eyes open, dazed, limbs slack and breath ragged.

"You’re such a mess for us, baby," Bucky murmured, crouched above you now. His voice was low, ruined with hunger. "That sweet little body of yours wasn’t made to handle all this, was it?"

Your eyes found him- Bucky, kneeling near your face now, his cock hard and leaking, so close it blurred your thoughts. He looked feral, undone, lips parted like he was barely restraining himself.

Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips without thinking. The taste of your own sweat clung to your skin, but all you could focus on was him. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his fist clenched at his thigh.

Your mind narrowed to a single point of clarity.

You wanted him in your mouth.

You leaned forward slowly, licking the bead of precum off his tip before taking him in fully- hungry, needy, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him. Bucky’s breath stuttered, and he let out a ragged groan as your mouth sealed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not to guide but to anchor himself. “So fucking pretty like this- taking me so deep. Look at those lips- look at that mouth.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks to take him deeper, until your nose pressed against the base and he swore low under his breath.

“Messy little mouth,” Bucky panted. “So eager. You needed this, didn’t you? Needed something to suck while we ruin the rest of you.”

You were lost in it- the taste of him, the heat, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked just right. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with sloppy desperation, gagging slightly as you bobbed your head in a steady rhythm.

Just then, you felt Steve’s hands at your hips, steady and sure. He shifted your lower body, pulling your legs open and up until you were spread out for him on the floor.

“You liked Buck's fingers? Let’s see how you do on my cock,” Steve growled against your ear, his voice dark and thick with restraint.

You gasped around Bucky’s cock, the moan caught in your throat turning into a garbled sound of pleasure as Steve aligned himself behind you. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you wide as his tip pressed against your entrance- already slick, fluttering, aching.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lit up in electric spasms. Your muscles fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing as he stretched you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.

The pressure, the fullness, the stretch- it was overwhelming. You sobbed around Bucky, the vibration of your moan making him groan above you, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust.

Steve bottomed out with a hiss, his hands gripping tighter like he needed the anchor. Inside you, he throbbed, deep and perfect. You felt stretched to the edge of your limits, your inner walls fluttering in frantic spasms around him, struggling to adjust and clench all at once. Your body didn’t know what to do- pull him in deeper or push him out.

It was too much. It was everything. Your head was spinning.

They started to move- slow at first. Steve dragging back only to sink in again, deliberate, controlled, while Bucky’s cock bumped the back of your throat as he rocked forward with a groan. You gagged, whined, clung to them both with your mouth and body.

You were stuck in it now. The lust. The drug. The heat. There was no thought left, only sensation. Only how it felt to be stretched open in two directions, trembling and gasping.

They didn’t talk to you anymore. They talked about you.

“She’s so sensitive,” Bucky growled. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

Steve grunted, his pace picking up. “Tight as hell. She’s pulsing like she doesn’t know whether she wants to come or cry.”

You tried to moan but it came out a broken, garbled sound around Bucky’s cock. Your tongue dragged along the underside of him as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering as you swallowed around the stretch. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, tears tracking down your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of your head, not forcing, just holding you there, gazing down into your wet, dazed eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, look at you drooling all over me. You love it, don’t you?”

Your hips rocked back into Steve without meaning to as he thrust forward again, harder this time, grinding deep. Your nerves fired like sparks, the friction of his cock dragging against hypersensitive flesh sending bursts of pressure low in your belly. Your insides coiled, pleasure building with every thick, deliberate thrust, your body wound so tight it felt like you might snap apart.

“You’re doing so well for us,” Steve grunted, leaning down, his mouth hot at your ear. “Such a good girl, letting us use you like this.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, driving in deeper. The stretch made you cry out around Bucky’s cock, throat flexing as your moan turned to a sob.

"That's it," Steve growled, pace quickening. "Fuck, so fucking wet and warm... you gonna cum, sweetheart? Gotta feel you squeeze me while you swallow Bucky."

Your body arched, heat crashing through your spine as Steve hit that perfect spot again and again, each thrust sending a jolt through your core. Your throat tightened around Bucky's cock, the vibration of your desperate moans making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck- she’s so close,” Steve panted, driving harder. “You feel that? She’s fucking pulsing.”

You sobbed around Bucky, tears streaking your cheeks, the pressure in your belly a coil tightening with no escape.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Bucky panted, watching the way you writhed. “Look at how she’s trembling. She needs cock.”

And then it snapped.

Your climax hit like a bolt of lightning, seizing your body with white-hot tension as your inner walls clamped down around Steve’s cock. You wailed around Bucky’s length, the cry vibrating through him as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck, that mouth- ” Bucky growled, watching your teary eyes roll back. “I’m gonna- shit- ”

He spilled down your throat with a grunt, his cock twitching between your lips, his hand holding you steady as you swallowed every drop of him while he pulsed. 

The clenching spasms of your climax milked Steve mercilessly, dragging his own orgasm from him with a ragged curse. He slammed in deep, staying buried as he came hard, filling you with warmth that only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“Take it,” he groaned, his breath broken against your shoulder. “Take it all. Good fucking girl.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling himself from your mouth with a wet pop, still hard, his cock glistening with your spit. “"Fuck... you’re unreal..." he panted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..pupils blown as he looked down at you.

Steve finally pulled out with a groan, the loss of him sudden and jarring, making you whimper. His cum followed, warm and slick as it dripped from your stretched pussy, pooling between your thighs.

His gaze dropped between your legs, transfixed. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he watched it leak from you, dripping down to your slick, twitching rim. Slowly, his fingers moved to your core, smearing the mess down lower, spreading it deliberately to your other entrance.

You gasped, twitching from aftershocks, your body still sensitive everywhere. His fingertip teased your tight hole, rubbing softly, slicking it with a practiced ease. You whimpered, already overwhelmed, but the moan that spilled from you was pure need.

“Damn, Stevie- you didn’t fuck her right if she’s still aching like this,” Bucky drawled, voice hoarse and edged with a smirk, watching the way your hips shifted restlessly on the floor.

You whimpered, the heat still rolling inside you, every nerve ending alive and twitching. The aftershocks made your muscles flutter, your body too sensitive and still so hungry. Steve didn’t bite back. He was too focused- his fingers slick with his own cum as he spread it lower, smearing it over your pussy and then circling your tight, twitching rim.

And then one thick finger pressed inward.

You gasped, whole body jolting, a broken sound catching in your throat as your body tried to clamp down instinctively. But Steve worked slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper, the stretch sharp and slow as he began to work you open.

You felt your core clench around nothing as Steve worked his finger deeper. “I need- please, I need more, I can’t- ” you gasped, voice trembling. Your head was a mess, fogged with lust and the aftershocks still sparking under your skin. Steve kept up the slow pump of his finger, pushing in deeper, working more of his cum into your ass to keep you slick and open.

“Hear that, Steve?” Bucky said, voice thick with amusement, already fisting his own cock in lazy, slow strokes. “She wants more.”

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, his finger sinking deeper, curling. You whimpered again.

“Can’t say no, can we?” Bucky added, grinning.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what our girl needs...” Steve muttered, voice thick with heat and control, as his hand disappeared between your thighs.

Steve pulled his finger from your ass just as Bucky got down onto the floor, reaching out to haul you up into his lap. Steve’s arms hooking under yours, supporting your limp, boneless body as they moved you together like you weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you on Buck now...” Steve purred near your ear, voice thick and smooth, a slow heat curling down your spine.

Bucky’s cock was already there- thick, hard, and waiting. They guided you together, Steve steadying you from behind while Bucky angled his cock to your entrance.

As Steve lowered you, your legs wrapped weakly around Bucky’s hips, and you felt the first stretch as his tip slid inside. A guttural groan ripped from Bucky’s throat, his hands tightening on your thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, voice rough and reverent. “You always take me so damn good. Still so fucking tight- even after Steve blew you open? Shit.”

“That’s a girl,” Steve murmured, voice low with praise. “Nice and slow... Want you to feel every inch of him, don’t you?”

You just whimpered and nodded, the need to be filled consuming, overwhelming, as the pair of them helped you sink down onto Bucky’s cock, inch by perfect inch.

Your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder as you settled fully onto Bucky, who thrust up into you with steady pressure. The heat and stretch made your whole body tremble. You could barely breathe, still twitching from your earlier climax. Then Bucky's hands gripped your hips tight.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips rolling upward as he began to move you, guiding you into a rhythm. “Look at you. Still aching. Like how I feel doll?”

The moan that spilled from your mouth didn’t even sound like you anymore- wrecked, raw, and desperate.

You were unraveling under Bucky’s rhythm- the way he filled you had your mind slipping, your thoughts scattering with every deep, slow thrust, how every thrust hit deep, high inside, brushing against that spot that made you shudder. Your head lolled back onto Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering, lips parted around desperate little gasps.

“She bites her lip when I go deep. You see that?” Bucky said with a rough chuckle, voice wrecked but smug. “She likes my rhythm.”

You didn’t even notice the way Steve bent you forward over Bucky, hands guiding your body like you were something precious and fragile and already ruined.

You didn’t have time to think too much before you felt Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open as Steve shifted behind you. It wasn’t until the thick, spongy head of his cock pressed against somewhere you’d never let anyone touch that your eyes snapped open in surprise.

The first inch pushed into your ass slowly, carefully, but it still stole your breath.

“It’s too much- I can’t- wait- ” you gasped, voice cracking with overwhelmed panic as your body instinctively tried to jerk away.

But Bucky rocked his hips upward, pushing deep into your pussy again, and the shockwave of pleasure was enough to paralyze your resistance.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Steve murmured, arms wrapping around you from behind as he continued to press in. His voice was thick and coaxing, his control iron-tight. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good for us.”

You sobbed, your whole body fluttering around them as Steve sank in deeper, the thin wall between your holes trembling with every inch he took. The two of them groaned in unison, voices rough and reverent as they filled you together.

You were caught between them now. Two super soldiers, all three of you lost in lust and need. Your face twisted with sensation as they held you there- one thick cock filling your pussy, the other spreading your ass open inch by inch. Both sunk to the hilt. You were impossibly full. You were shaking. Overwhelmed. Unable to process the stretch, the heat, the drag of their bodies inside you. It was too much. And you needed more.

“You’re both so… big- I’m gonna- fuck- ” you sobbed. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you’d become- how just being filled, just being stretched, could reduce you to this. You weren’t even moving, yet your body was already bracing to come undone again. There was no going back. No holding on. Just surrender.

You came without moving, the sensation of fullness alone tipping you over. Your body seized in the middle, core clenching violently, squeezing down on both of them at once as pleasure ripped through you like a lightning bolt.

Your voice cracked into a scream. You were gone- shaking, convulsing, burning from the inside out as your orgasm dragged through you with devastating force.

Both of them groaned at the way your body squeezed them- tight and hot and trembling.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, rocking his hips once more. “Didn’t even have to move. Just had to be inside you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, voice low and wrecked in your ear. “She’s that sensitive. That fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your lips parted in a silent gasp as Steve’s hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your stiff nipples as he started to move again. Slowly at first, easing back before pressing forward, dragging against that thin wall with every thick stroke.

Bucky's grip returned to your hips, steady and possessive, guiding you to rise and fall on his cock. Your body jolted with every motion, your moans soft and slurred.

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, hips snapping gently. “We’ll start slow…”

“I-I can’t- ” you whimpered, but your body was already moving, driven by instinct and need.

“I know you can take more,” he murmured. “Look how beautiful you are when you come apart. It'll feel better- just gotta keep going.”

And it did. It felt better than the denial. Better than the ache that came from holding back. The pleasure rolled through you like a drug, heavy and all-consuming.

Your hips started to move again, slowly grinding into Bucky as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t know if it was need or instinct- maybe both- but you couldn’t stop. You were cock-drunk. Barely aware of anything except how good it felt to be filled this way.

“Breathe,” Steve whispered. “Just like that. Hold it- good girl.”

Then Steve pulled your hips back into him and pressed all the way in.

“You think you’re fucking her deep?” Steve growled at Bucky, voice low and wild. “Watch this.”

Bucky shoved his hand flat to your lower stomach and lifted his hips with a brutal thrust. You cried out, the stretch making your eyes roll back as he ground up into you. It was obscene how deep he reached, how thick he felt. You pawed at his chest, clinging to him with trembling fingers.

“..fuck fuck fuck...” you gasped, the breath knocked out of you before he eased his hips again, smug and steady.

“Told ya,” Bucky muttered with a grin.

But it didn’t stop there.

Bucky answered your gasps with harder thrusts. Steve listened for his name and answered with praise. His mouth latched to your neck, nipping and licking along your skin as he squeezed your breasts roughly, molding them in his palms.

“Did you hear that one? That was mine,” Steve muttered against your skin when you gasped his name.

Bucky answered with a sharp thrust that made your breath catch. “She moaned louder for me, sweetheart. Don’t get cocky.”

Each of them was locked into the game- testing reactions, adjusting pace, trying to claim the sounds that spilled from your lips. One made you cry out, the other drew a gasp. They used your body like a live wire for their competition, and you were helpless in the storm.

“She whimpers when I kiss her right here,” he growled, biting just beneath your ear.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips tighter, fucking up into you hard enough to rock you against Steve’s chest. “She clenched around me when you said that,” he rasped. “Bet she’s trying to pick a favourite.”

You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think. You only managed to gasp whatever name escaped your lips first, and they both heard it- every time. And they responded with sharper thrusts, filthier praise.

“You’re so cock-drunk, you don’t even know who’s making you come anymore, do you?” Bucky said, voice rough.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, licking the sweat off your throat. “All wrecked. All ours.”

Then Bucky’s metal hand slid between your thighs again. His fingers brushed your clit, the coolness of steel a shocking chill of metal against your heat made you jolt, gasping as sparks danced up your spine.

“Oh- god - fuck- ” you sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as sparks shot up your spine.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered again. “Just like that. That’s our girl.”

They started to move faster now- driving into you in sync, pistoning in perfect rhythm. The slap of skin echoed, the slick sounds of your soaked cunt and the obscene wet pressure of being filled from both ends breaking whatever was left of your mind.

“You want to make her come, punk?” Bucky growled. “You gotta fuck her harder than that.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve snarled, thrusting harder. “We don’t need to break her. Just ruin her a little longer.”

“She’s shaking so bad. You keep her steady, Steve- I wanna see her face when she comes again.”

Your next orgasm ripped through you with a small wail, your features contorting as your body locked up tight. You clawed at them both- gripping Steve’s forearm, Bucky’s shoulder- as your walls fluttered around their cocks, milking them, begging for more without a word.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down. Steve groaned, his thrusts picking up as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Bucky cursed, gripping your hips tighter, lifting and dropping you into him with growing urgency.

You felt them both losing control- felt their restraint slipping with every second you squeezed around them, heat and slickness pouring down your thighs.

“Fuck- fuck, she’s doing it again,” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “She wants it. She’s not done. Not till we are.”

Then the pace shifted- harder, rougher, deeper. Their moans grew louder, matched only by the slap of skin on skin. Your head spun, your vision blurred.

And then they were coming again- Steve first, pulled tight to your back, his groan muffled in your shoulder. Then Bucky, buried deep beneath you, eyes locked on yours as he spilled inside you with a strangled moan.

You collapsed between them, limp and boneless, your body a trembling wreck held up only by their hands. You didn’t even try to move. There was no fight left in you- only the slow hum of satisfaction and overstimulation. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, a flicker of disbelief passed through you- how had you endured that? How had you survived the storm of them inside you? But there was no room for shame or second thoughts. Only surrender. And the quiet, overwhelming hum of being utterly, deliciously wrecked. You were too dazed to understand what was happening at first, the haze still thick behind your eyes. The humming under your skin hadn’t stopped, but it had dulled- muted to a low thrum that echoed in your bones. They were careful, even if your overstimulated body didn’t register it that way.

You whined, squirming, as they slowly pulled out of you. The stretch reversed, the heat slipping away, leaving you empty and raw. It wasn’t pain, but your body protested the loss with soft whimpers.

Someone pressed a water bottle to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You obeyed without thought, the coolness trickling down your throat a small mercy.

Another set of hands gently wiped you down. A cold, damp cloth slid between your legs, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.

Then your head was lowered into someone’s lap. Fingers carded through your hair.

“You did so well,” Steve murmured. “Look at you- perfect.”

You blinked slowly. Steve’s voice again, closer now: “Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your limbs twitched weakly, still responding to phantom pleasure. A quiet laugh came from Bucky.

“Still twitching. Still fucking gorgeous.”

You felt him kissing up your leg, mouth trailing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh.

Then your legs were being moved again- lifted, spread with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the earlier frenzy. There was no rush now, no urgency- just the soft reverence of Bucky's hands as he cradled your thighs like something precious, something breakable, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you minutes ago. You blinked, barely aware, as Bucky settled himself between them, laying flat, his breath hot against your oversensitive core.

He pressed a kiss there, soft and reverent, and your whole body jolted in response.

“And I’m not done tasting her,” he muttered, voice thick with need.

“Buck- she needs to recover,” Steve warned again, but his voice had softened to something indulgent.

“I’ll be gentle…” Bucky promised, his mouth already lowering, tongue dragging slow and careful over your aching folds as your head lolled back into Steve lap, eyes fluttering closed, lost to the warmth and the wetness and the impossible pleasure building again

TAGS: @buckybarnesfic, @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

[kismetlotts]

cw: money kink? Simon is obsessed, Simon loves you spending his money and giving you money, strangers online, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of oral sex, reader streams and goes live a lot, mentions of poor financial situation, Simon yearns, controlling, reader starts an OnlyFans, jealous Simon Riley, mentions of the name 'Daddy'

Simon Riley who barley uses social media and doesn't understand it well. He supposes he’s never really had a proper reason to. Sometimes he would check up on his teammates private lives, see how they are doing when they are away and off duty; sometimes he could be caught watching the odd dog meme video that pops up- earning a small, slither of a smile from the scarred stoic man.

But honestly, he’s never had a reason to bother, no account profile picture or bio and a randomly generated username he wouldn't know how to change even if he wanted to. Most of the time he would have two or three followers and always one of them was someone he had no idea of.

He never had a reason to give a shit about the online world, not until he saw you.

Sat at your desk, eyes sparkling under your warm ceiling light. Eagerly reading the chat-box at the bottom of your stream as you answered peoples questions with genuine interest. Your smile made his chest burn hot and his eyes caught notice of your fingers fidgeting with your hair. You were stunning, absolutely fucking breathtaking and Simon couldn't get enough; he needed you.

He would join every single live, not messaging or saying anything to you but just watching and suffocating in silence. He wouldn't miss the way you licked your lips wet and chewed on your lower lip as you waited for more people to join. If it wasn't for his expertise in self control he would've been fisting his cock to the sight of you.

He would have you full blast on his phone as he pottered around his house, your angelic voice singing out words of ecstasy through the cold empty walls like you were there with him. His precious little sweetheart, living with him in his head and in his home. Who would've thought a stranger like you could mess someone like Simon up this fucking badly?

He learnt things about you, jotting them down in the notebook of his brain. Learnt the places you wanted to travel to and experiences you wanted to live- and found himself wanting to be beside you: witnessing it first hand. He found himself for the first time in years wanting to live and not just survive.

Despite his toll of silence, you didn't miss the way he was always there. Checking the viewer count to see his account right at the top as per usual. Time didn't seem to matter either, when you had woken up at early in the morning and decided to go live out of boredom- he was there. In the middle of the day when you were on your lunch break, ragged looking earphones trailing out your ear as you whispered into the microphone at the back of the café, he was there watching. He was always there and it felt strange.

In honesty, his consistency petrified you. You knew it was all in your head but the nagging feeling that it was one of your fucked up, clingy exes, still keeping tabs on you despite going your separate ways, made you sick. Hoping was all you could ever do because you wouldn't dream of confronting the mysterious account that was watching, lingering and following you every second your phone was powered on. It was highly unlikely to be anyone you knew and you weren't entirely sure if that was for better or worse.

When your first couple of donations rolled in, you didn't know what to say. Smiling and thanking the donators by name as your cheeks heated up.

You never asked for money or pleaded for donations; the option was always there if people wanted to. You certainly weren't going to beg or come across as a 'money hungry' but some extra cash on the side was definitely not a bad idea. The fact that people were so generous and kind to donating pennies and pieces to help reach the goal of buying your own place. It wasn't much people were sending in but every little help strangers would accompany you with, made you realise the world wasn't so selfish after all: and when Simon noticed this. He reached for his card.

Hundreds, multiple hundreds and it was just a ridiculous amount of money that piled in from his account. It was the first time you had seen him interact with you aside from liking your content or watching your streams- what the fuck were you supposed to say? Your eyes would lock onto the screen, mouth slightly agape revealing your wet tongue as you tried to find the words. Simon fucking groaned.

The blank, grey profile picture looked back at you with numbers you couldn't comprehend attached to it. Simon was helping you tremendously and despite your gratefulness you couldn't help but end your stream- guilt surfacing in your throat because that was a lot of money to be handing away to a stranger. It felt rude taking it, you were scared to take it- it felt like borrowed money not gifted money because who sends someone that amount of cash. Who in their right fucking mind?

The worst part was he didn't stop there- in honesty, watching how fogged your mind got and watching the way you struggled for words- he couldn't find himself able to stop. It was a high for him, he wanted to give you everything you wanted.

He would crack his neck, a moan falling from his lips as he clicked on your live with a grin. Adrenaline fuelling his body as he sent more, and more, and more until he heard the shake in your voice. 'Stop' falling from your lips between nervous giggles and he knew you meant it, feeling his heart ricochet in his chest but still, he continued.

The mental aspect of the situation had led you to taking a short break off of streaming, you were sure he wasn't some crazy ex from the amount of money he had given you and the realisation it was some random stranger always being there instead, didn't make you as uncomfortable as you thought it would've. He was probably some old man with a fetish for seeing some girl like you everyday and spoiling you. The worst case scenario was that he could be a stalker or a murderer who had taken a liking into you- but even then you were highly careful of what you let slip online and who could be out there.

It was difficult, you wanted him to leave as much as you wanted him to stay- you couldn't block him after he had spent all that money on you and as much as you wished he wouldn’t have done that: it was very helpful.

A good few weeks had past since you had uploaded and you figured that he would be onto some other girl by now. Splashing the cash for some supermodel look alike as he whispers into her microphone things that drive men wild. But of course that wasn't the case.

Simon was going fucking haywire. He couldn't sleep without hearing your muffled little voice in his dreams, your sleeping little face and messed up hair with your tantalisingly lowcut pyjamas, where were you? Where had you disappeared to? He would check your account religiously, just in case you posted and his notification didn't go off. He had googled ways to tell if he had been blocked- but the reality of the situation was that you had just became inactive.

It made his lungs ache and knees weak without hearing your voice daily- just old videos he had re-watched over and over again. Your absence worried him and it worried himself with how badly he was getting attached to you. His days felt like months, his strong demeanour replaced by one that was moping and mourning. Jesus- you weren't fucking dead. If you were fucking dead he would ruin whatever stole you from him. Was this stalker like behaviour? Was he being a fucking loser for worrying about you?

Upon your return you had decided to create a dreaded OnlyFans account. It was just to raise money and you weren't expecting to blow up into some massive porn star earing millions from sex work- you kept it pretty downlow. It was as much humiliating as it was necessary- without Simon there to send you hundreds of pounds, you needed the extra pay for groceries and rent money. Plus- it seemed everyone your age was doing it so what was the harm? You uploaded a quick video to promote your new account, posted it and sat down at your one seat table.

The cold of the wooden chair hitting your thighs and the dim lights of your kitchen made you realise how tiny your apartment was. Even for one person you felt like you were incarcerated- stuck in a prison cell but you couldn't afford to leave yet. The sound of your swallow echoing into the silence as you finished up your instant ramen- humming in satisfaction as your phone hummed to. You picked it up, your stomach turning cold as a message request came through.

How much to delete your OnlyFans Account?

Simon was fucking seething. Posting your tits- your body, that little mouth of yours sucking on objects that weren't his cock for other men to see? For other men to pay for? He almost cracked his phone when he opened your notification to that and he would've if it wasn't for his urgency to get you to delete your account. He had heard of OnlyFans, he wasn't daft and you were coming off there whether you liked it or not.

Your heart stuttered seeing the familiar account and a scoff of shock fell from your lips. He hadn't forgotten you after all. The mysterious account had finally broke his silence and your stomach fluttered with feeling you couldn't make sense of. He hadn't moved on from you, he couldn't move on from you- should you be weirded out by this?

Sorry?

How much to delete your OnlyFans Account. Now?

The pulse in your vein throbbed as you finally made sense of his question. The giddy feeling from earlier at the realisation he was waiting for you, subsided into thick strings of anxiety. Hypothetically, if you had run your account on there for a good few months, posting regularly and having a handful of subscribers- you would bring home a good portion of money to save up. You couldn't ask him for a lot of money- especially after all the money he had already gave but you couldn't delete your account for little to nothing. So, you took the time to nicely write back to him and explain your financial situation to him. Explaining how you need to money to help save for a future house- that you need food and necessities and that your shitty job doesn't pay you enough.

The chat fell silent, Simon began to type and then stopped- disappearing and you shut your phone off worried you had either overshared and accidently unloaded everything onto him or upset him.

I mean- you didn't owe him anything- he donated all that money to you on his behalf but you couldn't help the niggling feeling of regret and shame that you had offended someone so nice that had done so much for you. You told yourself that he was still probably some creep, some fucked up pervert that probably only watched for one thing. But if that was the case, why would he be against your OnlyFans? Maybe you read him wrong- or maybe he wanted you all for himself.

You felt your phone ping again, opening the chat to a payment of multiple thousands.

This your spending money for food and whatever else you want. And I can buy you a house darling, don't you worry.

The high numbers full your screen and you blinked. Your head unable to comprehend if this was real or not. A whole house? Spending money? Was this guy fucking rich? He obviously had money to give away willingly so there was no doubt he was rich. But still though, did he not have a family to spend this money on- or anything better to do with it? Without properly thinking you typed back your response, sitting back on your chair as your eyes darted around your small apartment. Was he deadly serious about buying you a house?- Who were you kidding, of course he was serious.

Are you a sugar daddy or something?

Simons concrete façade broke as he snorted, reading your message. Imagining your sweet, pretty, intoxicating voice reading it out to him while he melts and loses himself in you. He should just send you his card and bank details- he should just send you all of his fucking money and spoil you absolutely rotten. He would give you anything you wanted- he would let you walk all over him and drain his fucking account. The thought of you all dolled up, new shoes, new clothes, new perfume. The thought of you comfortable, clean and fed- fuck he had never felt this horny and desperate before. He fisted his cock through his jeans as he sat up on his couch, stretching and adjusting a little before looking back down at the message. Fingers typing back a reply before plopping his phone down beside him.

Not a sugar daddy, I just like your smile, Sunshine.

But if you really wanted to call me daddy, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “kitten”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning, description of violence including murder.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: I am so not ready to go back to school..

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

His tattooed hand felt heavy on your thigh.

It was a respectable distance from your upper thigh. Really, he was more so holding your knee than your thigh. Throughout the drive, he’d spontaneously grip your leg, reminding you that this was exactly where you belonged.

Your words were jumbled in your brain, unable to form a sentence or a coherent question. You were stuck between thanking him and asking him how he got into the staff parking lot…

You also wanted to chastise him for speeding. It was reckless and unnecessary…

The silence was deafening, but the car’s engine made up plenty for the lack of talking. You looked out the window as it seemed you two were heading to Ginza, one of the most prominent high-end shopping districts in Japan.

“You made me a spectacle in front of my professor…” You finally found the courage in you to speak up. However, your eyes could not meet his out of fear. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of your life? Walking on eggshells around Sukuna?

“Is that how you thank someone from getting you out of a clearly uncomfortable situation, doll?” His hand squeezes your thigh again, and his thumb brushes against the fabric of your pants.

You mentally curse yourself. This is the first time Sukuna has seen you outside of Malevolent Mass, and you’re wearing yoga pants and a school-spirit hoodie.

Your eyes finally look up to meet his as he’s focused on the road. “Who said it was uncomfortable? My professor was just…”

“He was only trying to take my future bride out on a date… unbeknownst to her, clearly.” He finished your sentence for you, shooting you a small amused look on his face. “And you didn’t have to say it was uncomfortable. You wear all of your emotions on that pretty little face. I can read you like a book.”

You huff, looking away from him once again. Lawyers are meant to be good a bluffing. You’re suppose to have a poker face of steel, and yet… he’s able to tell.

“How did you even get into the staff parking lot?” you ask, switching gears to a different line of interrogation.

“I know people, doll. Are you going to continue to make a fuss, or are you going to enjoy our date tonight?”

“Date?” you ask as you immediately look over at him. A crease forms between your eyebrows. You’re not in anyway ready for a date!

A deep throaty chuckle leaves Sukuna as he gives your leg one last squeeze. “You know, the outings that people in a relationship usually go on?”

“I know what a date is!” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Get all that attitude out now while you can, kitten. Once we sign this contract tonight, I have a good way to correct that behavior.”

Correct that behavior..?

Your face burns hot from the realization, and you feel your heartbeat speed up. The most confusing reaction was the small thrum between your thighs. You shift in your seat, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Sukuna puts his car in park in the middle of the street in front of an elegant looking building. Mannequins were posed in the windows, wearing stunning clothes and jewelry.

You feel yourself swallow thickly. You’re so out of place here that it hurts. You’re glued to your seat, not wanting anyone to see you like this… in fucking yoga pants.

Your future husband doesn’t seem to notice as he gets out of the car. He hands his key over to the valet driver, and from the window, it looks like they have a brief intense conversation.

Sinking back into your seat, you pull your hoodie up over your head and pull the strings taut so you’re swallowed whole by your hood.

You hear the door open up to your side, and another amused chuckle escapes from Sukuna’s mouth. “Do you really think hiding yourself means no one else can see you?”

“I’m not going in there. You didn’t warn me that you were taking me out.”

“I don’t have to tell my future bride when I crave her presence. I’m only going to embarrass you more if you don’t move.”

You stay still. You can’t walk in there. You’re not meant for this lifestyle. The people inside are going to look at you and immediately know you’re an outsider. American. Your choice of attire will only heighten their dislike for you.

Your body flinches as you feel two strong arms wrap around your figure. One of his arms cradles your back, and the other hooks underneath your legs, carrying you bridal style out of the car.

“Put me down!” You thrash in his arms.

Sukuna’s voice responds in a low growl against your ear. “Keep making a scene, and I’m not going to wait for a contract to take you over my knee, do you understand?”

Your body goes still, and you slowly pull your hood off of your head, looking at him with wide eyes as he carries you to the door. The valet driver has already gotten into Sukuna’s car, driving it off to be parked somewhere safe.

“Speak when spoken to, girl. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you murmur back to him, conceding in the argument.

“Good girl. I didn’t take you to be such a brat.”

It was going to be a long life for you in this marriage… if Sukuna didn’t kill you first.

*** *** ***

You stood almost completely bare on a small pedestal in a fitting room while three women worked to get your exact measurements. Measuring tape was wrapped around your arms, hips, and bust.

Turns out, this wasn’t the destination of your date. This was a mere pitstop. Sukuna wanted custom made clothes for you, and he of course was going to buy something for you to wear on the date.

You were still mortified from everyone seeing you in yoga pants and a hoodie, but no one made any sort of offhand comment.

You didn’t get any “foreigner” comments. You didn’t get side eyes or flat out ignored. Sukuna’s presence was already affecting the way people treated you, even while he wasn’t in the room.

“You have such pretty skin color, miss — very healthy. Mr. Sukuna wants to see you in something red tonight. It will complement your features well.”

It didn’t take long for the ladies to drape your body in a gorgeous rich burgundy satin slip dress. Unease settled into your stomach as you noted the amount of skin peeking out from the dress.

What kind of respectable lawyer dresses like this..?

It doesn’t stop with the dress. Soon, you’re standing in black glossy YSL heels that you’ll be lucky not to break your neck in too. The sheer thought of the price tag on this outfit sends shivers down your spine.

With the amount of disposable income Sukuna has frivolously shown you, you and your dad could’ve easily lived a peaceful life nearing his death. He wouldn’t have had to have sat awake, calling all kinds of law firms and insurance agencies.

You push the thought to the back of your mind, staring down at the floor as you try to find the courage to be grateful for what you have now… for what you will have.

“Red looks good on you, angel.” That deep gravely voice breaks you from your trance. “Breathtaking.”

“Hardly something a future lawyer would wear,” you murmur, unable to figure out if you like what you see in the mirror or if you hate it. Have you lost sight in what truly matters?

“Oh?” Sukuna prompts, stepping into the dressing area further. He takes a seat in one of the chairs. This was truly like a private viewing area, where no one could bother you two.

Wordlessly, Sukuna curls his finger, beckoning you to him. He then pats his knee. Memories of sitting on his lap in the club fill your mind. It was one of the first times you felt alive — like you were truly living and not just trying to survive.

“I’m scared to sit in this dress,” you awkwardly laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror with an unsure look in your eye.

“Better get use to it, doll. We’re going out to dinner after this,” he says, continuing to pat his lap.

Letting out a sigh, you decide it’s best not to argue right now. You don’t have the mental energy to. Slowly, you take a seat on his lap, looking over in the mirror to see how his body completely dwarfs yours.

His hand rests on your hip as he too is mesmerized by your reflection in the mirror. “Looks like a future lawyer to me.”

You feel the tips of your ears and back of your neck prickle with heat. He sounds so sure of himself. No one has showed you that amount of faith before.

“I— I just meant.. not a respectable lawyer.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Lawyers aren’t allowed to feel sexy in their free time? I hate to disappoint you, doll, but we’re not going to some stuffy courtroom to eat dinner.”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you look at him. His eyes are dancing across your body with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“I know that,” you huff. “I just don’t think this is me.”

“Oh? Was that not you who was a bottle girl in my club? Sitting on my lap? Choking on my fingers? You weren’t the angel masquerading as some lithe imp amongst devils?”

You make a move to get up from his lap. “I needed money—“

His hand snakes up your body before carefully wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, merely holding you in place.

“Pretty girls like you go work at ski resorts or country clubs to make money. They don’t end up in a club called Malevolent Mass, and they certainly don’t offer themselves to men like me. Face it, angel. You’re drawn to depravity, but you can’t admit yourself. You want some excuse to enjoy all of the sick little fucked up acts your brain conjures up. You want to be known as some noble robin hood lawyer who steals from greedy corporations and gives back to the poor, but you’re not the saint you want to be.”

The sniffle that shakes your body surprises you. You didn’t even realize you were crying until one of your tears dripped off of your cheek and onto Sukuna’s hand.

His eyes slowly trail from yours down to your wet cheeks. “Such a pitiful sight,” he mutters before leaning into you.

His tongue darts out, flicking upward against your cheek as he licks the tears off your face. You hold your breath as you can feel his hardened length press against your thigh.

His warm breath tickles your face with every small tentative lick. The act is much more intimate than you expected.

Once satisfied, he presses a gentle chaste kiss right beneath your eye. “Better stop crying, angel. It only makes me want to tear into that virgin cunt so much more.”

He chuckles at the way your body tenses. You hide your flushed expression in the crook of his neck while his hand sensually strokes the small of your back.

“Also, lawyers are hired based off how good they are in the courtroom and how thorough they are in their pursuit of justice. No one hires a lawyer based on what they’re wearing, so get that thought out of your head.”

You meekly nod, unable to use your words after he just gave you such whiplash. Sukuna was truly an enigma.

*** *** ***

Domain Devour was a modern style restaurant with dark and moody decor. The lighting was low, and the walls were painted a rich satin black. Priceless art pieces hung from the walls.

There was a mostly empty back room which contained half-circle booths that were clearly built to entertain.

You could imagine Sukuna bringing his men here and them enjoying some of the… entertainment.

The staff were overly accommodating if not weary of you and Sukuna. It dawned on you that this was another one of Sukuna’s establishments after one of the waiters called him boss.

How many businesses did he own exactly? You were starting to wonder if Sukuna had monopolized the entire Entertainment District.

“The usual. Cook whatever the lady desires,” Sukuna grunted nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened a little bit as an awkward laugh bubbled in your throat. “Oh— I uh, don’t have a menu. I’m sorry-“

Sukuna can’t help but grin from your polite nature. “You don’t need one. Just order whatever you fancy, and the kitchen will make it happen.”

Decision paralysis struck hard. You could have whatever you asked for? Your fingers fumbled together as you tried to even remember what your favorite food was.

“You know, I’ll just have whatever he’s having,” you finally reason, nodding back towards Sukuna. You didn’t want to cause the kitchen any sort of bother by putting in an order for something they didn’t have.

The waiter’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure about that, miss?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed at the staff member. “Did she fucking stutter?”

“No! No— Of course not. I’ll have that right out.” He scrambled his way back to the kitchen to get away from Sukuna’s scrutinizing glare.

You were planted rigidly in your seat, staring at the table not wanting to be the reason that some poor waiter lost his job.

“I don’t tolerate insolence. He wouldn’t have questioned me or any other patron about their choice in meal, so he shouldn’t question you either.”

You don’t even know what to say, so you sheepishly shrug your shoulders. “The customer isn’t always right.”

The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “Such a clever girl, but you’re not a mere customer to him.”

That sentiment makes you squirm a bit in your seat. You always wanted to be respected by people, but you didn’t want to be feared like Sukuna is.

“So.. the contract,” you mention, sipping on your water to cure your dry throat.

“Straight into it, huh? No room for typical date conversation?”

You immediately open your mouth to say that this isn’t a typical date, but you think better of it. Why are you in such a rush to sign your life away to him in some form of contract?

“I’ve never been on a date before, so I guess I wouldn’t know what to talk about on one.”

That makes Sukuna’s eyes light up with a twisted sense of amusement. He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table to get closer to you. “Is that so? This is my bride’s first date ever?”

You hate the way a simple nickname makes you face flush with embarrassment. You silently nod in affirmation.

“How adorable,” he taunts while his eyes roam your figure for a moment. “What do you think you and the professor would’ve talked about if he had taken you out?”

“That wasn’t a date,” you scoff in protest, turning your head away from him as you remembered just how he presented to your school.

“Oh, but it was in his mind.” He takes a drink of the champagne he ordered earlier. “You’re just unaware to how men think.”

“Enlighten me then.”

Your defiant gaze and sharp words only seem to make Sukuna more amused. “In his mind, he was going to take you out to lunch. He would probably answer all your questions about law and whatever else your nerdy heart desires. Then, he’d offer to keep the date going by heading back to his place. Perhaps he would say it’s to look over one of your recent papers or he could show you something like his dissertation. However, once you were in his space, he’d see it as a sign that it was safe enough to take things further. It starts with small touches and gradually becomes more bold. Judging by the way he had his hand so carelessly on your back, I would say that he would’ve quickly escalated.”

Your mouth is slightly agape. No way was your professor going to do any of that. It was a harmless invitation to lunch, right?

“You don’t know him. He’s not like that,” you mutter, a crease forming between your eyebrows.

“Oh angel, you’re so naive. I may not know him, but I know how men like him think and where their intentions lie.”

“If we weren’t here to sign a contract, what would your intentions lie?” you ask, frowning at your future husband.

Sukuna actually looks off kilter for a moment. You managed to catch him off guard, but his face quickly smooths out to his default amused look. “I do not shy away from my intentions, doll. If I wanted nothing more from you, I’d already have you in my bed. No. Perhaps I wouldn’t even bring you to my bed, I’d have you in the basement of Malevolent Mass. As soon as I was finished using that cute cunt, I’d leave, and you’d probably never see me again.”

A strange tight feeling settles in your chest. How many women has he had in that way? He said it like it was second nature to him. Was he at Malevolent Mass that day to do that exact thing with some other girl downstairs? Had he just finished up downstairs and decided to stop by your booth for a drink?

Then, it hits you. Sukuna originally proposed a free use deal to you — not marriage. He had not always intended for you to be his wife.

“Jealousy looks cute on you, angel.” He grins, soaking in ever small line of your clearly frustrated face.

“I’m not jealous,” you grumble, taking another sip of your water.

A rich chuckle leaves Sukuna’s lips. “I didn’t know my wife was such a liar. You’re sitting there thinking about just how I was able to rattle that answer off without much thought.”

You tighten your jaw, hating how he was taunting you right now and hating how right he was. “We’re here to talk about specifications of the contract, right? I don’t want you sharing a bed or whatever surface you use with some other woman while you’re sharing a bed with me.”

A meek voice sounds next to you. “I uh.. have two lamb dinners..?” the waiter says as his face is burning red. He definitely just heard you say that, and now you’re face is also burning up.

Sukuna barks out a laugh. He loves seeing people squirm from embarrassment. First, you get jealous over him which makes his cock ache with the need to reassure you. Then, you go on to angrily lay out a rule against sleeping with other women right in front of the waiter. It’s truly the cherry on top for this night.

You’re sulking as the plates are put down in front of you and Sukuna. Then, you’re unable to stifle your surprise. No wonder the waiter second guessed you for ordering this. The plate itself was bigger than your head.

The plate was piled with mashed potatoes slathered in gravy. On top, several lamb chops sit that have been delicately cooked just right. Fresh stalks of green beans also sit to the side, and as if that wasn’t enough, a basket of rolls were also brought to the table.

Your eyebrows slightly furrow as you realize this isn’t any sort of Japanese cuisine that you would’ve expected. You take note of the fork, knife, and spoon carefully rolled up in a napkin next to your plate.

While you’ve been raised around Japanese customs and food options, your dad also cooked dinners that were reminiscent of comfort foods from the west. Seeing silverware sent a dull ache in your chest.

“So? My angel doesn’t like the thought of me sleeping with other women?” Sukuna’s grating voice ruins your nostalgic trip. You glare up at him, remembering how you just made a fool of yourself.

“It’s disrespectful and unhygienic,” you reason with a bit more bite to your voice than you intended.

Sukuna can’t wipe the shit eating grin off his face. “Careful doll, your jealousy is showing again.”

“Shut up,” you snap, stabbing into your food and taking a bite. Your anger is quickly soothed from the myriad of savory flavors in your mouth. You’re barely able to dampen the moan that expels from your body.

Your future husband bites back the amused laugh from your blatantly pleased sounds. He knows that if he teases you, then you may stop eating, and he doesn’t want that.

“There is no other woman who I’ll want to accompany my bed, doll.” He cuts into his lamb chop, taking a bite for himself.

The sincerity in his voice makes you pause for a moment. Flickering an uneasy gaze up to him, you quickly shake away any feelings threatening to bubble up. This is merely an exchange.

“I assume you have stipulations you’d like to add?”

“Always so perceptive.” He puts down his utensils, and his gaze weighs heavy on you, demanding you to give him your full attention. He only continues once your gaze meets his. “I enjoy your defiant nature and independence, but there are things I get the final say on such as your safety and our future heir’s safety.”

You swallow thickly, wondering how far he’d take that rule. Would he start telling you what you can and can’t do? What you can eat? Who you can see and speak to?

“Beyond that, you’re blindly stepping into a world you know nothing about, angel. Thus, if I say the word ‘enchain’, you are to immediately obey me without question or thought. Do you understand?”

Sukuna expected your immediate refusal. He knew that was a big thing to expect of you, and it went against your very nature.

“No, I— I don’t understand. What situations would you need me to do that? I thought you said you’d keep me out of your livelihood..”

“I will keep you as far removed from my livelihood as possible, but my livelihood may find you whether I want that or not. Surely you understand the risk you’re agreeing to.”

You close your eyes, trying to sort through your thoughts. It was giving him so much power in the relationship — too much for your own peace of mind.

“You could misuse it…”

“I very well could, but where’s the fun in that? I already said I enjoy your mouthy attitude and the way you cry and squirm in my lap. Why would I take such joys away from myself?” He gives you a sharp grin.

“You won’t use it to make me hurt anyone or…?” you ask, still running possibilities through your mind of why he’d need to control you for an undisclosed amount of time.

“No angel. I won’t have you do anything that goes against your morals.”

You take a deep breath. You’re really committing to a trust fall here with this entire agreement. Though, he is also taking a gamble. You could cross him and turn him into the police if you wanted.

“Okay,” you breathe with a small nod. “We’re exclusive. I’ll remain a virgin until our wedding then I’ll… be of free use. You’ll support me and our future children after law school. I’ll get to use your last name to my benefit, and you’ll protect me at all costs from your livelihood.”

“And you’ll obey me about your safety and surrender yourself to me if I use our word,” Sukuna adds, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

You nod, signaling you understand.

“That’s not enough, doll. Say it. Say you’ll obey and surrender yourself to me.”

“I’ll… I’ll obey you when it comes to my safety, and I’ll surrender myself to you if you use that word with the clause that you can’t make me do anything against my morals.”

“Good girl,” your future husband purrs before he snaps his fingers once. The waiter from earlier comes barreling towards the table.

“Yes boss?” he pants, looking frightened out of his mind.

“Bring me the contract.”

You’re not even sure if you feel surprised when the waiter somehow brings you the contract that Sukuna intends for you to sign to set your agreement in stone. The devil works hard, but Sukuna’s a different beast entirely.

Your eyes carefully read each and every word. You know damn well not to sign your name to something you haven’t read.

You expected to find some sort of fine print or something that Sukuna had “failed” to mention, but everything in the contract was already verbally agreed upon by both of you.

“You’re going to take ownership over my debt as well?” you ask, looking up to meet Sukuna’s gaze.

“You’ll be my wife, will you not? Combining finances is typical of normal marriage,” he reasons with an unbothered shrug. “I promise you, angel. Your debt is the least of my concerns. It’ll be taken care of within the first week after our wedding.”

You sigh, continuing to read on. Everything seemed to be in order until you read the last clause.

“I’m to stay in the guest room until we’re officially wed?”

“That’s for your comfort. You’re more than welcome to share my bed before our wedding, angel. Just don’t cry when my body responds to you.”

You face flushes as you picture sleeping next to Sukuna. You can’t imagine someone as tough and hardened as Sukuna sleeping peacefully.

“I’ll stay in the guest room, thanks..”

He gives you an unbothered shrug. “You may change your mind. Who knows?”

You roll your eyes as you pick up the pen the waiter left behind. There was no way in hell you’d seek out Sukuna’s bed before you had to. You’d sooner start doing drugs.

Both of you are silent as you sign your name and date on the line. You pass the contract to Sukuna, and he signs right below your name.

With another snap of his fingers, the waiter was right beside your table once again. Sukuna gives him an expectant gaze.

The waiter nods nervously and fishes in his coat pocket for a moment. Your breath hitches as you wonder if Sukuna is going to make a scene out of some sort of proposal.

When you see the box that’s passed to Sukuna’s hand, you feel a bit of relief, noting that it’s too big to be a ring.

“Calm down, kitten. You and I are alike in our disdain for gaudy public gestures,” Sukuna chuckles as he stands up next to the table. “Allow me to put it on you?”

You nervously nod, wondering just what kind of gift he was giving you.

You turn your back towards him, pulling your hair to the side as he places the necklace around your neck. It was a short petite golden chain. Even while the chain wasn’t heavy, you could tell it wasn’t some fake metal from the grocery store. He was putting real gold around your neck.

You reach up, touching the chain as Sukuna is busy putting it on you. Your fingers find a small golden S charm, undoubtedly to mark you in his initial.

Noticing it’s taking him too long to work a simple clasp, you laugh softly. “Need any help back there?”

That’s when you feel the cool metal of pliers against the back of your neck. Your body goes rigid for a moment, wondering what the hell Sukuna was doing.

Your body is tugged backwards as Sukuna loops his fingers through your fully clasped necklace, pulling you towards him. He leans over your back, his breath ghosting against your neck.

“Let this necklace serve as a reminder that you are mine now, angel. Day in and day out. You can’t take this off like you can’t get away from me.” His lips gently brush against the delicate skin between your shoulder and neck, causing you to shiver before he steps away.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. Your hands automatically go up to where your airflow was slightly restricted by the necklace, and you tug on it forwards this time. The gold remains strong, biting into your skin instead of snapping. You then search for the clasp with your fingers, finding that there is no such thing.

This bastard just collared and marked you with a permanent piece of jewelry.

“Now, be a good little wife and close your eyes and cover your ears.”

“Why would I—“

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

Your eyes widen as your breath stutters in your chest. Everything was moving so quickly. What had you just signed?

You close your eyes tightly, already feeling tears of fear dampen your waterline. Your hands come up and cup your ears.

“Good. Slide over to your left, angel. Towards the wall.”

Doing as you’re told, you slide over in the booth towards the wall. Your arm presses against the cool wall before your entire body flinches.

BOOM!

A gunshot fires off right next to you. You try to silence a scream as you double over out of fear. Your eyes fly open just in time to see Sukuna aiming a handgun but not towards you.

You cringe as soon as you hear a thud. Your future husband just shot a man dining right behind you.

So much for not being brought into his world.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach @kunasthiast @jinxiewritings @mordacioust @rinofcike @therealjustpeachesback

[lowrisemiller]

ᴄʜᴀʀɪᴛʏ ᴄᴀꜱᴇ

pedro pascal x younger!fem!reader one-shot

insta smau

or just being pedro’s secret controversially young gf . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

a chance raffle win leads to unexpected texts, slow-burning chemistry, and stolen moments with pedro pascal. she’s younger, balancing school and real life. he’s careful, charming, and maybe a little too into her for his own good. what starts off light turns tender, and one cozy night might just change everything.

masterlist | 9k words | all fiction, pedro is 45-50 and fem!reader is 23 (I don't rlly gaf if you're annoyed with age-gaps if you don't like it fucking scroll), flirting, YEARNING (you’ll never stop me), kissing, celebrity things like that paparazzi, fingering, oral f!recieving, pussy job, unprotected piv sexxx

You hadn’t even meant to enter.

Your best friend, Kelsey, had texted you in the middle of a script revision meltdown with a link and three question marks.

“A Pedro Pascal charity meet & greet raffle. $25 to enter. Winner gets a private lunch.”

It was for some children’s literacy nonprofit, and you’d clicked it half-delirious, half-joking, adding one entry just to say you did.

Two weeks later, you got the email.

You thought it was a scam. Then your phone rang—an actual event coordinator from the organization, confirming details, verifying your ID, telling you a car service would be provided, that Pedro’s team had already cleared the date.

You stared at your phone long after the call ended. You were twenty-three, in college for a degree in screenwriting, juggling a bookstore job and unpaid pitch work. Pedro Pascal had been your comfort actor since your late teens—long before the mainstream hype. You’d watched his indie films, not just the blockbusters. You knew lines of dialogue he probably didn’t even remember.

Now you were going to sit across from him. At lunch. For an hour.

You didn't even have anything to wear that didn't look like it came off a Goodwill clearance rack.

The restaurant was tucked away in Laurel Canyon, low lighting, all exposed brick and polished glass.

You checked your reflection four times in the car window. A blouse that didn't cling too tight. Mascara you applied with shaking hands. You told yourself he probably did dozens of these. He wouldn’t even remember your name.

When you arrived at the restaurant the host said, “Right this way,” and there he was.

Pedro Pascal. In a dark blue button-up, sleeves rolled to the forearms. Sunglasses pushed up in his hair. Beard trimmed. Brown eyes soft.

He stood when you walked up.

“Hey, you must be the donor,” he said warmly. “Thanks for donating.”

You managed a smile. “Thanks for being the prize.”

He laughed. A real one.

You thought it would be awkward. Stilted. But he was funny, sharp, easy to talk to. You ended up rambling about how much his performance in The Bubble meant to you—how you watched it on your laptop in your dark bedroom during a bad depressive episode, how it got you through that awful year.

He looked surprised. Touched.

“I forget anyone actually saw that movie,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“I watched it five times. At least.”

He blinked. “Wait, are you messing with me?”

“Nope.” You grinned. “I even wrote a paper on it for a class on satire. You play a man who's aware he’s a fraud but keeps smiling through it—like, that’s the whole metaphor.”

Pedro blinked again—then gave you a slow, stunned laugh, mouth slightly open.

You weren’t flirting. You were just being honest. And maybe that’s what caught him off guard.

He walked you out after. His hand hovered at the small of your back but never touched.

“Seriously,” he said, “this was the best version of one of these I’ve ever done. I usually feel like a trained monkey. This felt like…” he paused. “A real conversation.”

You tried to play it cool. “That’s the goal. I’m supposed to be a screenwriter, right?”

He smiled, wider this time. “If you ever finish something, I’d love to read it.”

You stared at him, then snorted. “That sounded like a line.”

You were standing on the curb with him now, your rideshare still a few minutes out.

Pedro leaned against the building’s side wall, sunglasses back on, arms folded. The California sun caught the edges of his hair, bringing out the warm gray in his curls. You tried not to stare.

 You were failing.

“Do you ever get tired of people telling you they’ve been obsessed with you since they were sixteen?” you asked, mostly teasing.

He laughed under his breath. “Depends on how they say it.”

You glanced up at him. “And how did I say it?”

His mouth curled. “Like someone who isn’t obsessed anymore. Just curious.”

That made you blush, which only made it worse. “Right. I’m too grown for fangirling.”

He tilted his head a little. “How grown are we talking?”

You gave him a look. “Grown enough to know that question is a trap.”

He grinned. “Smart.”

The pause that followed wasn’t awkward—it was warm, almost private. Like something unsaid had passed between you, and he was waiting to see if you’d name it.

You didn’t. You weren’t that bold. But you did say, “So, are you always this charming at these things? Or did I just catch you on a good hair day?”

He chuckled, then looked at you fully, one eyebrow raised. “Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“I thought this would be fifteen minutes of smiling, nodding, and trying to avoid weird questions about The Mandalorian. I didn’t expect to actually…” He stopped, glanced away for a second, then back at you. “...like someone.”

Your stomach fluttered. “Someone?”

“You,” he said plainly.

Oh.

You blinked. “I—um. Okay. That’s… wow.”

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry. That might’ve been too much.”

“No—no, it’s okay,” you said quickly, too quickly. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He smiled again, softer now. “That’s fair.”

Then, casually—almost like it was nothing—he said, “Would it be weird if I asked for your number?”

You stared at him. “Wait—seriously?”

He shrugged, smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re comfortable. If not, that’s okay. I just—” he hesitated, then said, “I think I’d like to talk to you again. Not in front of cameras. Or PR people.”

You swallowed. He was looking at you like he meant it. Like he wasn’t in a rush, like he could wait forever.

“…Okay,” you said. “Yeah. I’ll give it to you.”

Pedro handed you his phone. No hesitation.

You typed it in, heart pounding a little harder than it should’ve. Saved ___(from lunch) and handed it back.

He glanced down at it, then nodded. “I’ll text you. So you have mine.”

“Cool.” You tried to act normal. “Cool, cool, cool.”

Pedro smirked. “You’re very cool, yeah.”

Your rideshare pulled up just then. Saved by the bell. He opened the car door for you, gentlemanly as ever.

Before you got in, he said, voice low: “I’m really glad it was you.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that. So you smiled, and got in the car, and tried not to immediately check your phone.

But when it buzzed two minutes later, your breath caught.

Unknown Number: Glad I made it through lunch without embarrassing myself. – Pedro

You didn’t text back right away.

Mostly because you didn’t want to seem eager. But also because you were still staring at your phone like it had just whispered your name out loud.

You waited ten minutes.

Then typed:

You: I think we both made it out with our dignity intact.

But that’s a pending review once I replay the whole thing in my head at 2am.

The dots appeared instantly.

Pedro: Damn, you’re already funnier over text. I’m scared. Should I be worried about my performance?

You smiled, flopping back on your bed.

You: You were decent. You only said “like” twelve times in that one story about Oscar Isaac. Pedro: You counted?? You: I’m a writer. I observe. Pedro: Dangerous. Pedro: Remind me never to lie to you.

He kept texting over the next few days. Nothing crazy. Nothing that could get him in trouble.

But his messages were always right there—close enough to be curious. Casual enough to deny.

Sometimes it was jokes about his press schedule. Sometimes questions about your scripts. One night, it was a photo of an old movie on his TV.

Pedro: I think this director peaked with this one. Tell me I’m wrong. [screenshot from Days of Heaven] You: You want discourse at midnight? Pedro: I want you to talk to me at midnight.

You stared at that one for too long.

Typed. Erased. Typed again.

You: That sounds dangerously flirty for a man with a whole IMDb page. Pedro: That sounds dangerously flirty for a girl who called me “decent.” Pedro: …But I’m not taking it back.

By the end of the week, he was sending you voice memos.

Low, rough-voiced ones. Mostly teasing. Sometimes just quiet thoughts he didn’t want to type.

“You know, I reread your screenplay sample. You weren’t kidding when you said it was dark. That final scene? Fuck me. Also, I think I’m obsessed with the way your dialogue sounds.”

Another night:

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought about texting you something sexy but decided on this instead: Do you think people fall for potential, or do they fall for the version of themselves they think the other person sees?”

That one stayed in your phone for days.

You didn’t answer it. Not directly.

But your next message said:

You: If you’re ever back in L.A. and bored, I know a dive bar that makes the best nachos in the city.

We could talk about your IMDb shame pile.

Pedro: You tryna seduce me with nachos? You: Maybe. Pedro: Tell me when. And don’t wear that blouse again. Or do…

Four Weeks Later

The texts don’t come every day anymore.

He warned you. Said work was picking up again—press junkets, travel, long days on set. You said it was fine. You meant it. You’d gone in expecting one hour of his time, not a month of flirty messages and midnight voice memos.

But still, you missed it. The tiny buzz of your phone. His name lighting up your screen.

You missed the way he made you feel like he actually saw you—like you weren’t just some girl who lucked into a celebrity lunch but someone with ideas, talent, nerve.

The last message had been five days ago:

Pedro: Sitting in a hotel bar in Berlin. Bartender looks like he’s judging my wine choice.

You responded. He didn’t reply.

You told yourself he got busy. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Still, you reread the thread more than once.

He kept opening your chat. Typing. Erasing.

He didn’t know why you stuck in his head. Why you’d gotten under his skin like a song he couldn’t stop humming. You were so much younger, so new, but you had a sharpness he envied. You made him want to say shit he hadn’t thought to say to anyone in years.

And you hadn’t even done anything, really.

You were just... honest. No agenda. No sucking up. You looked him in the eye like he wasn’t on a billboard but sitting across from you at a tiny table, halfway real.

And now you were quiet.

Maybe you’d gotten bored. Moved on. Maybe it was better that way.

But when his plane landed in L.A., jet-lagged and strung out, the first thing he wanted—before coffee, before sleep—was to see if you were still around.

You’re watching a terrible dating show in your apartment, sipping flat wine, wearing the same hoodie three days in a row when your phone buzzes.

Pedro: Back in town. That nacho place still open?

You stare at it.

Then:

You: It closes at 2am. So yeah. Still time for questionable choices. Pedro: Are we talking about food or me? You: Don’t make me say it. Pedro: Say it in person.

Then:

Pedro: Tomorrow night?

Your stomach flips.

It’s been weeks. You thought he forgot. You thought maybe you dreamed the whole thing.

You wait ten seconds.

Then:

You: Tomorrow night.

The bar is dim and humming when you walk in. Wood-paneled walls, strings of yellow bulbs, and that warm, greasy smell that hits just right after 9 p.m.

You spot him instantly.

Pedro’s in the far booth—back against the wall, baseball cap low, beer bottle sweating in front of him. He’s dressed down: jeans and a hoodie, that you recognize from one of his press photos. 

He looks up and sees you. Smiles.

Not the friendly kind. The fuck-I-missed-you kind.

“Hey,” you say as you slide into the booth opposite him.

“Hey yourself,” he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours.

You settle your bag beside you. Try to ignore the way your heart’s fluttering like it’s your first date in high school.

He leans forward slightly. “You look…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tired?”

He laughs. “No. Just better than I remembered.”

You smirk. “You say that to all the raffle girls?”

Pedro grins and takes a sip of his beer. “You think I’m doing a lot of raffle lunches lately?”

You don’t answer. You just meet his eyes—and hold them a second too long.

The first drink goes fast. So does the second.

Conversation’s easy again—teasing, snappy, laced with innuendos but grounded in that same curiosity he showed the first time.

“You’ve got that look again,” you say at one point.

He tips his head. “What look?”

“Like you’re thinking too much.”

Pedro taps his fingers on the table. “I am.”

“About what?”

“You.”

That shuts you up. For a beat.

“Okay,” you say carefully. “You’re officially flirting.”

“Only officially now?”

You glance at him. “Are we pretending we haven’t been doing that for weeks?”

He leans in a little, voice lower. “I haven’t been pretending, cariño.”

That word—cariño—drops right down your spine.

You sip your drink just to buy time.

Half an hour later, the nachos are cold and forgotten.

He’s shifted to your side of the booth. Close enough that his thigh brushes yours when he moves.

You can feel the heat of him—slow and steady, like a stove left on low.

“You’re braver than I thought,” he murmurs, voice near your ear.

You turn your head, pulse thrumming. “Why?”

He’s looking at your mouth when he says, “Because I think you know exactly what this is.”

You swallow.

“You think it’s a game?” you whisper.

“No.” His eyes lift to meet yours again. “I think it’s trouble.”

You let the silence stretch. Then, quietly:

“I think I want it anyway.”

Pedro exhales, almost like relief.

His hand finds your knee under the table, gentle at first—like he’s asking.

You don’t stop him.

Back at your place — 1:07 a.m.

He doesn’t kiss you right away.

He stands just inside your apartment, glancing around like he needs to ground himself. Like he’s cataloging every detail in case it’s the only time he sees it.

“Cute place,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s fine. It has a couch, at least.”

Pedro gives you a look. “So subtle.”

You smirk, toeing off your shoes. “I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m trying to sit down without my feet throbbing.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” he says, trailing behind you into the living room. “Because when you leaned over the jukebox earlier, I swear I saw—”

“—Shut up,” you laugh, swatting his arm. “I was picking a song.”

“You were bending the laws of nature, muneca.”

You plop onto the couch and toss a pillow at him.

He catches it easily, eyes dancing.

And then he sits.

Close. Closer than necessary.

Your knees touch.

And for a moment, neither of you say anything.

His hand brushes yours.

Once.

Twice.

Then it stays.

“I keep telling myself not to do this,” he murmurs, thumb tracing the back of your knuckles.

You tilt your head. “Then don’t.”

Pedro looks at you.

Long. Direct. Hungry.

And then he kisses you.

It starts slow.

His lips soft, searching. No rush. No agenda.

But your hand slides into his hair and his body shifts, just a little, and suddenly—

His other hand is on your thigh, gripping it.

You gasp into his mouth, and it makes him groan. A low, broken sound, like he’s been trying not to make it for weeks.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You started it,” you whisper, breathless.

His tongue traces your bottom lip. “Don’t remind me.”

He pushes you back into the couch cushions, one knee slipping between yours, just enough weight to make you feel it.

You arch beneath him. Hips rising—seeking.

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

Your hair’s messy, lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown.

“You’re so goddamn pretty,” he says, voice low. “You know that?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “You’re not bad either, old man.”

He huffed a laugh—and kissed you harder.

You end up straddling him, your hands under his shirt, his teeth grazing your neck. You whisper something shameless into his ear and he freezes, groaning into your shoulder like you just ruined his life.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice thick. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like it,” you say, biting back a smile.

“Too much.”

It doesn’t go any further.

Not because he doesn’t want to.

Not because you don’t.

But because there’s something delicious about stopping here. Something about the ache. The tease.

 1:41 a.m. your apartment

You don’t get off his lap.

Even after the kissing slows. Even after his hand stills on your thigh and his breath evens out against your collarbone.

You just lean into him, cheek resting against the warm curve of his neck, and say:

“So what’s your comfort movie?”

Pedro chuckles, a low, content sound. His hands stay on you—one lightly tracing your waist, the other cradling your knee.

“You want comfort?” he murmurs. “I watched Paddington 2 three times in a row on a flight once. I cried. Full grown man. Tears.”

You sit up just enough to look at him. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

You grin, brushing your nose against his. “Mine’s Coraline. I know it’s for kids. Don’t care.”

“Oh, I respect that,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Creepy doll button eyes? That’s some formative trauma.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Exactly.”

The conversation drifts.

From movies to music, then weird dreams, then the worst job he ever had (you make him promise never to do commercials for adult diapers), and the story of your first kiss (in a movie theater during a Marvel sequel, popcorn still in your braces).

You fall asleep like that for a while.

Wrapped around him. The TV is still on. His hoodie swallowing your frame.

It’s not a sleepover. But it’s the kind of night you only have when the flirting has already cracked open into something more dangerous—something real.

5:07 a.m. 

He kisses you again on the sidewalk, slow and tired and a little reluctant.

The Uber’s headlights bounce off the curb.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your hip.

You raise your brows. “You’d behave?”

“No.”

“Then go home.”

Pedro grins, teeth sharp in the early morning haze. “I hate that you’re right.”

“You love that I’m right.”

He kisses your forehead. “Text me when you wake up, cariño.”

Then he climbs into the car and disappears into the fading dark.

Later

You you looked like a mess when you left was kind of hot

Pedro don’t start i walked into my kitchen like a teenager head against the fridge door. dramatic sigh.

You “what is she doing to meee…”

Pedro don’t mock the broken man

You it’s cute I kinda like breaking you

Pedro yeah i could tell you were smiling while you ruined me

You and you didn’t stop me

Pedro never would

Pedro (real talk though… i haven’t kissed someone like that in years) what are we doing?

You no idea but i don’t really want to stop

Pedro good i’d be pissed if you did

You also i’m watching Paddington 2 tonight thought you should know

Pedro you’re trying to make me fall in love with you

You Trying?

A Few days Later

Pedro okay serious question what’s your go-to coffee order i’m at a café and there are too many words on the menu

You iced oat latte. extra cinnamon. no reason. just vibes. why?

Pedro just wondering what i’ll need to remember when i see you again it’s been a minute you free soon?

You maybe. depends. is this a brunch date disguised as a “casual hang”?

Pedro yes. and i might wear a hat and sunglasses like a criminal

You hot I’ll see you Sunday then

Two Weeks Later

Outside a café, 2:12 p.m.

You’re holding iced coffees, your oversized hoodie tucked into the waistband of biker shorts, and Pedro’s walking beside you—cap pulled low, hoodie up, sunglasses on.

You look like…friends.

Which is the goal.

Except his hand keeps brushing yours.

And when you laugh too hard at something he says about a failed audition back in ‘99, he looks at you like he feels it. Like he wants to bottle it.

You don’t even notice the guy on the opposite sidewalk.

Phone angled low.

The shutter click barely audible.

Another car slows down. Just a beat.

Pedro notices first.

His body tenses next to yours.

You follow his gaze. A pair of figures across the street. Hoodies. Big lenses. Moving fast.

Click click click.

You suck in a breath. “Shit.”

He doesn’t grab your hand.

He can’t.

Instead, he leans in like he’s just whispering something dumb.

“Just keep walking,” he mutters. “Act like you’re annoyed with me.”

You glance up at him. “That’s not hard.”

He grins, tight-lipped. “Atta girl.”

You duck into a bookstore.He buys a random novel and keeps the receipt.

You pretend to browse while your stomach spins.

He brushes his hand against your back briefly as you walk toward the back exit.

“Your face was covered,” he says quietly. “You’re fine.”

But he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

You slip your sunglasses on, exhaling.

“I knew this might happen,” you mutter. “Still sucks.”

Pedro looks at you for a second too long. Then, under his breath:

“If anything ever actually comes out…I’ll handle it.”

You nod.

But it hangs there. Heavy.

You’re still you. Still just 23. Still not used to this world he lives in.

But the part that makes your pulse spike isn’t fear.

It’s the way his voice dipped when he said “I’ll handle it.”

Like he already decided he would.

Like you weren’t just a girl from a raffle anymore.

Pedro they didn’t get anything you’re safe

You you sure?

Pedro i’ve done this a long time if they had something good it’d be online already trust me

You i do just didn’t expect it to feel that...real

Pedro it is real at least for me

You i know. me too.

Pedro next time no public sidewalks just you my place pizza and zero danger

You and maybe another dramatic sigh against your fridge?

Pedro oh i’m already practicing i’ll be thinking about you all week

You good maybe i’ll make you wait again

Pedro maybe i’ll let you

Few More Days Later

You i just bombed my stats exam tell my family i died doing what i hated

Pedro nooooo not stats not you :(

You i’m so tired i might actually cry in the campus parking lot like a teen drama character

Pedro you want company or silence? or pizza? or a forehead kiss?

You omg

You that last one just made my brain short circuit is that allowed???

Pedro it is if you want it to be offer still stands come over i’ll put on something dumb and hold you until your brain restarts

You you’re dangerous give me an hour

That night — 8:13 p.m. 

Pedro’s apartment.

The kitchen smells like garlic and fresh basil.

Pedro’s in front of the stove in a worn tee and joggers, barefoot, stirring pasta like this is just…normal. Like you always do this. Like he wasn’t in a galaxy far, far away a few months ago while you were still writing essays in the library, humming through AirPods.

“You ever cook for girls like this?” you tease lightly, watching from the counter stool.

Pedro smirks without turning around. “Not girls who make me nervous.”

You blink.

He glances back at you. “Just being honest.”

You open your mouth—then close it again.

Your throat’s warm. So is your chest. Your fingertips tingle against the glass of red wine in your hand.

The rest of the night unfurls gently. Like a held breath being let out.

He makes a simple pasta with veggies. You help slice strawberries for a little balsamic-glazed dessert (“This is so extra,” you laugh, and he just shrugs—“You deserve extra”).

You eat on the couch with the coffee table dragged closer, your knees brushing under the bowls.

Music plays low. Something acoustic and nostalgic.

His hand rests on your leg, casual but firm.

Yours finds his thigh a little later.

You’re sitting sideways in his lap again, back to his chest, your cheek against his jaw. He smells like citrus body wash and red wine and something inherently him.

His hands haven’t left you all night.

Thumb tracing slow lines into the top of your thigh. Fingertips under your hoodie hem.

He kisses your shoulder. Then your jaw.

You hum softly, turning your face toward his. He doesn’t hesitate.

The kiss starts easy. Then deeper.

And deeper.

You straddle him this time, your knees pressing into the couch cushions, your hands in his hair. His grip tightens around your hips—then softens again, like he’s reminding himself to slow down.

There’s heat. So much heat.

You shift against him, just slightly—and feel him underneath you.

He breathes hard into your mouth, breaking the kiss. “Wait—wait.”

Your foreheads press together.

You blink. “Did I do something—?”

Pedro shakes his head fast. “No, no. God, no. You’re perfect.”

You’re quiet. His thumb brushes your cheek.

“I just…” he swallows, “don’t want this to be fast. I want it to be right.”

You exhale, your nose brushing his. “Okay.”

He looks at you—tender, serious. “You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You trust me?”

Pedro leans forward and kisses you again, slower this time. His hands stay on your waist. Yours trail up the back of his neck.

Then he says the most dangerous thing of all:

“Stay tonight.”

You borrow one of his tees and wash your face in his sink with the cleanser he shyly offers you.

The bed’s big and warm. You climb in beside him, and he pulls you close, one arm under your shoulders, the other across your waist.

Neither of you says much.

But when you whisper, “You smell like something familiar,” he smiles into your hair.

And when he murmurs, “I like having you here,” you smile too.

You fall asleep curled up against him. No more nerves. No more pretending this is just for fun.

It’s not the night everything happened.

But it’s the night everything changed.

The Next Morning — 9:12 a.m.

You wake up warm.

Pressed against a solid chest, one of Pedro’s hands heavy over your waist, his breath slow and deep against the back of your neck.

It takes you a second to remember where you are.

The smell of his sheets. The weight of his arm. The stretch of your legs tangled with his.

Then it hits you.

Last night. Dinner. That kiss. Him asking you to stay.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake him.

But you feel him stir behind you.

His voice is a slow, rough murmur in your ear. “Morning.”

You twist in his arms to face him. His hair’s messy. His eyes are sleepy, half-lidded. There’s a small smile on his mouth that makes your heart kick like a rabbit.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He leans in and kisses you—soft at first. Barely there.

But then he kisses you again, firmer this time. Longer.

And it doesn’t feel sleepy anymore.

It feels like wanting.

Pedro’s hand moves under your shirt, smoothing up your back, dragging his fingers up your spine. You sigh into his mouth as you press your chest against his, your body already buzzing.

He rolls gently onto his back, bringing you with him so you’re straddling his hips. His hands settle on your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow circles just beneath the hem of your borrowed sleep shirt.

“You okay?” he murmurs, looking up at you.

You nod. “Yeah.”

His eyes search yours. “We don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you say, clear and certain. “I really want to.”

That’s all he needs.

He sits up, kisses you again—this time with intent. His hands slip under your shirt fully now, dragging it up over your head and off.

Pedro pauses when he sees you.

Like he’s trying to remember every inch.

“God,” he breathes, hands sliding up your waist to cup your chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You shiver as his thumbs graze your nipples. You shift forward, rolling your hips against his just a little, and feel him hard underneath you.

He groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you whisper, tugging his shirt off too.

It’s slow. He treats your body like something worth learning.

Mouth on your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone, tongue dipping below your breasts.

He lays you back and kisses down your stomach, looking up at you the whole time like he’s waiting for you to change your mind.

You don’t.

You arch for him, tug his hand between your thighs.

Pedro groans when he finds you wet.

“So ready for me,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. “Jesus, baby…”

He touches you slowly, gently, working you open with his fingers until you're panting, until you're grabbing at his hair and whispering his name like it's the only word that matters.

Then he comes back up and kisses you again—deep, messy, tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers stay between your legs, stroking you through every soft sound you make.

“You like that?” he breathes.

You nod, nails digging into his shoulder. “Yeah. God, Pedro—”

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You smile shakily. “I’ll tell you if it’s not enough.”

When he finally pushes inside you, it’s slow.

Painfully slow.

Like he wants you to feel every inch of it. Like he wants to feel you—wrapped around him, holding him, trusting him.

You gasp. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

“You okay?”

You nod, hand fisting the sheets. “Keep going. Please.”

Pedro groans, deeper this time, and begins to move.

It’s not fast. It’s not rough.

But it’s intense.

Every roll of his hips is deliberate, slow and deep, the kind of rhythm that builds unbearable heat between your legs. He stays close, his chest brushing yours, one hand cradling your head, the other gripping your hip like he needs to anchor himself there.

You moan into his mouth. “Pedro—oh my god—”

“I know,” he pants. “I know, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, tilting your hips to take him deeper. The change makes you gasp—your whole body tightening around him.

He curses, thrusts harder once, then slows again, like he’s fighting to stay in control.

“Not gonna last,” he groans into your neck. “You’re too good—fuck—”

You cling to him, mouth at his ear. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He fucks you through it—slow, patient, like he’s memorizing you.

Until you come with a cry, back arching, legs trembling.

And then he lets go.

Buried deep inside you, his arms locked tight around your body, he shudders with a groan that sounds almost broken.

Pedro lies beside you, one hand still tracing circles over your bare back.

You’re tucked into his side, head on his chest, your body boneless and warm and aching in all the right ways.

He kisses the top of your head.

You murmur, “So…”

“So?” he echoes softly.

“I don’t want to leave.”

He smiles. “Then don’t.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze.

“Okay.”

10:36 a.m.

The bedroom’s quiet, dim with late morning light.

Pedro’s hand is still on your back, fingers idly tracing slow, lazy shapes like he doesn’t want to break the silence. You’re sprawled across his chest with your leg slung over his hip, still tangled in sheets and sleep and warmth.

You murmur, “My thighs hurt.”

Pedro laughs softly under you. “That’s a good sign, right?”

You pinch his side gently, but you’re smiling. “You’re annoying.”

He kisses your hair. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m sweaty.”

“Same thing.”

You hum, turning your face into his neck. “We should get up.”

“We don’t have to.”

“We will eventually.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But I’m making coffee and putting on music and not wearing pants, so. Prepare yourself.”

You brush your teeth side-by-side in front of the mirror, barefoot and rumpled. He’s wearing plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips. You’re in one of his big, soft shirts that barely covers your ass.

Pedro spits, then wipes his mouth and gestures toward your reflection. “You’re doing the ‘walk of shame’ all wrong.”

“Oh yeah?”

He steps behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, kisses your shoulder. “Yeah. You’re supposed to sneak out. Look flustered. Not stand here looking like a smug little goddess.”

You lean back into him. “I can sneak if you want.”

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, mouth at your ear. “Don’t you dare.”

You perch on the counter while Pedro makes eggs and toasts thick slices of sourdough. Coffee gurgles in the French press. Music hums low from a Bluetooth speaker—Fleetwood Mac, or maybe The Rolling Stones, something vintage and cozy and a little flirtatious.

He hands you a piece of toast like it’s a peace offering.

“You’re spoiling me,” you murmur between bites.

He shrugs. “You stayed the night. That earns you toast rights.”

“What else does it earn me?”

Pedro leans on the counter next to you, pretending to think. “More coffee. Back rubs. The good chocolate from the top shelf. Maybe a foot rub if you beg.”

You laugh.

But he watches you for a second, quiet, eyes soft.

Then, a little more serious, he says, “You’re okay? With last night?”

You nod right away. “Of course I am.”

“You don’t feel—like it was too fast?”

You pause. “No. Do you?”

He looks away for a second. Then back at you.

“No. I just… I don't want to mess this up.”

Your heart thumps.

“You’re not,” you say, and it’s true. “I like being here. With you.”

Pedro steps closer. Kisses you on the forehead.

“You make me feel lucky,” he murmurs. “Like… really lucky.”

You hide your face in his shoulder, smiling into his shirt. “Sappy.”

“You love it.”

“I kinda do.”

You end up back in bed with the window open and your coffee cups half-full on the nightstand.

You scroll through your phone lazily while Pedro reads a book beside you, one hand resting on your thigh like he just needs to be touching you, even when he’s distracted.

Eventually, he sets the book down and watches you instead.

“Next time,” he says quietly, “let me take you out properly. Like a real date.”

You glance up. “Like…in public?”

He nods, hesitating. “If you want. I can be careful. Private table. Back entrance.”

You study him for a beat.

Then smile.

“Okay.”

He exhales, slow and relieved. Pulls you toward him.

And it hits you—how easy this could be. How dangerous. How close you already feel to something you shouldn’t want this badly.

But you let him kiss you again.

Because right now?

You just want more.

Pedro 🍯 Friday night okay for our scandalous outing?

You depends will there be food? and you opening doors for me like a gentleman?

Pedro 🍯 I’d open every door in LA for you even the ones I’m not supposed to

You that’s hot okay I’m in what’s the dress code? do I need to look famous?

Pedro 🍯 You are famous. In my phone. In my bed. In my head. But no—look like yourself. That’s what I like.

You you’re lucky you’re cute I’ll give you flirty and effortless

Pedro 🍯 It’s a look that destroys me every time

 Friday Night – 8:04 PM

Private restaurant in West Hollywood

The hostess barely glances at you as she leads you down a narrow hallway to the back, where the lights are low and the table is tucked away in a cozy, dim corner.

Pedro’s already there, standing when he sees you. Black dress shirt, a little open at the collar. Trim beard. That soft smile that’s reserved for you now.

He says, “Wow,” under his breath when he sees you.

You grin. “That’s what you were waiting for?”

“No,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “But it’s a damn good bonus.”

He pulls your chair out for you, brushes his fingers down your arm as you sit. The tension’s quiet but buzzing. This isn’t like being at his apartment in sweats and bare legs. This is real.

The waiter arrives quickly—Pedro’s arranged everything. Wine’s already poured. A cheese plate. You’re grateful, because you’re nervous.

“Not what you expected?” he asks, eyes warm.

“It’s nice,” you say. “Just… kinda crazy. We’re really out.”

He leans in, voice low. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“No,” you say quickly, surprising yourself. “I want to.”

You talk about movies. About food. He asks about your classes. You ask about scripts he’s reading. It’s easy, even with the candlelight and clinking glasses and murmurs behind you.

But at one point, you feel someone glance toward the corner—just a shift, a flick of someone’s head.

You both go still.

Pedro reaches across the table and touches your hand, thumb brushing the back of your fingers.

“Don’t look,” he says gently. “They won’t get anything.”

You nod, swallowing.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

His grip tightens slightly.

“So am I.”

Outside the restaurant

Pedro’s car pulls around to the back entrance just like he’d asked. You both slip out quietly, sunglasses on—even though it’s dark—and hoods up. The manager gave him a discreet nod on the way out, like this wasn’t his first time protecting someone.

Once you’re in the car, doors shut, windows up, and seat belts clicked… he finally exhales.

You laugh a little, heart still racing. “That was weird.”

“It was,” he agrees, starting the engine. “But not terrible, right?”

You glance at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been watched while eating cheese.”

Pedro grins. “To be fair, you looked very hot doing it.”

You nudge his arm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

You do.

 10:05 PM – His Apartment

He lets you in first. The lights are soft. The space smells like bergamot and whatever cologne still clings to his jacket.

You take your shoes off by the door without thinking. He shrugs out of his coat, throws it on the back of the couch. His shirt’s still half-unbuttoned.

“Wine?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Just water.”

Pedro nods and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from the fridge. You trail behind him, watching the lines of his back move beneath the dark cotton of his shirt.

When he turns, you’re sitting on top of the counter, arms crossed.

“You’re quiet,” he says gently, handing you the glass.

You take a sip. “Just thinking.”

He nods. Waits.

You hesitate. Then, “Do you worry? About people knowing?”

He pauses. Then crosses to stand in front of you, leaning back on the opposite counter, arms loosely folded.

“I do,” he says honestly. “Not because I’m ashamed. I just… I know how people talk. And I don’t want them to get it wrong.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He watches you.

“I also don’t want to stop seeing you,” he adds softly. “So I guess I’ll figure it out.”

That makes your stomach flip.

“You don’t think it’s a bad idea?” you ask. “This?”

He tilts his head, thoughtful. Then he shook it.

“No. Not when you look at me like that.”

You blink. “Like what?”

Pedro smiles a little. “Like I’m not just some actor you had a crush on once. Like I’m… real.”

You don’t say anything, but you take a step forward. So does he.

Your hand lands gently on his chest.

“I like the real you,” you say. “Even when you’re dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic.”

“You literally made an escape plan for dinner.”

He chuckles in a low tone. “Fair.”

Your fingers hook at the collar of his shirt.

“Can I stay again?”

Pedro leans down and presses his forehead to yours.

“Please do.”

Pedro steps between your legs, his palms firm against your thighs, slowly sliding up under the hem of your dress. The fabric bunches at your hips, but neither of you cares. You’ve kissed him before, but not like this—not when everything feels like it might break open if you dare to go a little further.

“You’re killin’ me,” he mutters, lips brushing just below your ear as his hands roam.

Your breath catches. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Pedro pulls back just enough to look at you. “You wore that dress.”

You tilt your head. “You told me to.”

He smirks. “Yeah. My own damn fault.”

His mouth is on yours again—hot, unrelenting. The kiss turns hungrier. You moan into it when he presses closer, the hard line of him slotting between your thighs.

His hands are greedy now, tracing the backs of your thighs, then cupping your ass, pulling you forward against him. Your hips grind instinctively. He groans into your mouth, like he’s trying to hold back but failing.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel—Jesus—”

One of his hands slips around to your front, dragging his fingers between your legs over your panties. He feels how warm you are, how soaked the fabric is. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and full of heat.

“This all for me, baby?”

You nod, lips parted. “Been like that since dinner.”

He lets out a low, guttural sound and presses the heel of his hand right where you’re throbbing. You roll your hips against it, helpless. Your legs tighten around his waist as your back arches into him.

Pedro leans in, his voice ragged. “You want me to touch you?”

You barely manage a breathy, “Yes.”

His fingers hook into your panties, dragging them to the side. And then he touches you—slowly, carefully—like he’s trying to memorize every reaction. The pad of his middle finger slides through your slick folds, circling your clit just once.

You jerk slightly, gasping.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching your face. “You’re so wet already.”

You try to kiss him again, but he teases you, keeping his lips just out of reach. His fingers move lower, pressing gently at your entrance. He slips one inside, slow but sure.

Your head falls back. “Pedro—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, adding a second finger, curling them just right. “You feel fuckin’ incredible.”

You rock your hips in time with his rhythm, your moans filling the quiet kitchen. The counter is cool beneath your thighs, but you’re burning everywhere else—chest flushed, heart racing.

Pedro leans in and kisses the underside of your jaw, then your neck, his voice hot and gravelly against your skin. “I wanna see you come like this. Just like this.”

You grip his shoulders, legs trembling slightly as the pressure builds. He keeps his thumb on your clit, circling it in time with every curl of his fingers.

“Fuck—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

“I won’t, baby. I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

It hits fast. Your hips stutter, mouth falling open in a whimper as you come around his fingers, clenching tight while he keeps working you through it. He watches every second of it, like he’s completely wrecked by the sight of you falling apart in his hands.

When it’s too much, you grab his wrist, panting. “Okay. Okay—”

He kisses you then, deep and messy and full of hunger. You taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow that just makes it hotter.

“Next time,” he murmurs against your lips, voice full of promise, “it’s gonna be in bed. And I’m not gonna stop until you beg.”

You smile, still breathless. “Who says I won’t beg right here?”

He laughs softly, tucks your hair behind your ear, and leans his forehead against yours. “You’re trouble.”

“You like it.”

Pedro hums, pressing one last kiss to your lips. “I really do.”

Pedro kisses you again—more urgently this time, like he’s chasing the taste of your moan. You’re still coming down from your high, but he’s nowhere near finished. His hand strokes down your thigh, then back up slowly, deliberately. His lips drag down your neck to your collarbone, tongue flicking over the skin as he murmurs, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby.”

You squirm in his grip, panting softly. “Pedro…”

He groans when you say his name like that, like a plea. His hands slip under your thighs, and in one swift, effortless movement, he lifts you from the counter and carries you into the living room. He lays you out gently on the couch, kneeling between your legs, spreading them with his hands.

Your dress is still bunched around your hips. Your panties are crooked, barely hanging on.

Pedro looks down at you—lips swollen, legs open for him, pupils blown wide. “You want more?”

You nod, voice shaky. “I—I want your mouth.”

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He leans in, dragging your panties down your legs slowly, deliberately. You watch him with wide eyes, chest rising and falling. He kisses the inside of your thigh first—soft, reverent—then bites, just a little, enough to make you whimper.

And then he licks you.

It starts slow—his tongue parting your folds, gentle strokes that make you arch your back. But he doesn’t stay soft for long. He groans into you like he’s starving, hands gripping your thighs as he locks you in place and sucks hard on your clit. Your hips jerk up, and he just tightens his grip, flattening his tongue and dragging it slowly up and down before circling your entrance.

You’re already close again.

“Pedro, fuck—oh my God—”

He looks up at you, mouth shiny, eyes wild. “Come again for me. Just like this.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself while he devours you. He slides one finger back inside you, then another, curling them just right as his tongue works your clit. You fall apart again—loud, shaking, hips grinding against his mouth as you come harder than before.

You feel him groan when you clench around his fingers. He fucking likes how wrecked you are.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless and trembling. He kisses your inner thigh one more time before leaning over you, lips slick with you, eyes blown wide.

You reach for him, cupping him through his sweats. He’s rock hard and twitching under your palm. “Your turn.”

He swears under his breath, grinding into your hand. “I’ve been dying since you walked in.”

You tug the waistband of his slacks down. He helps, finally freeing himself—and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

Pedro watches your face as you stroke him slowly, teasing him the way he teased you.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” you ask, sweet and soft.

He groans low. “Not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”

But he lets you guide him on top of you, your thighs still slick and spread. You rub his tip against your folds, not letting him in—just grinding, coating him in your arousal. You both moan at the contact.

He leans down, forehead pressed to yours, hips moving in slow, desperate circles.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he mutters.

You wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, your voice a whisper against his jaw. “Next time, you’re gonna fuck me for real.”

Pedro pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “This isn’t even close to done, sweetheart.”

He ruts against you again, both of you panting now, bodies slick and sticky. He kisses you—deep and messy—as he comes against your stomach with a groan, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

You lie there together, tangled and panting, the whole room humming with the tension that still lingers.

Pedro finally exhales a breathy laugh. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

You grin, heart racing. “Big, big trouble.”

He kisses your shoulder and smiles into your skin. “Worth it.”

You’re curled up in Pedro’s bed again, half-asleep with your cheek against his chest, his hand absentmindedly tracing lazy circles on your back.

He shifts a little beneath you, reaches over with a yawn to grab his phone from the nightstand, squinting at the screen as it lights up.

Then he goes still.

You feel it before you hear it—his body tensing just enough to draw your attention.

You peek up at him. “Everything okay?”

Pedro doesn’t answer right away. He swipes through something on his phone with a sharp breath through his nose, then hands it to you silently.

Your stomach flips.

It’s Twitter.

A photo. Grainy, long-lens, obviously taken from across the street.

Pedro Pascal on a late-night coffee date?He’s walking beside you on the sidewalk. His hood is up, and yours is too. Your face is angled down, half-covered by your oversized scarf. But it’s undeniably him.

His hand is on the small of your back. Gentle. Familiar.

The photo already has over 80k likes.

“Shit,” you whisper, sitting up a little.

Pedro watches you carefully. “Your face isn’t in it. You’re okay.”

“I mean… yeah, but people are gonna figure it out, aren’t they?” You hand him the phone, heart thudding.

There are already hundreds of quote tweets. Gossip accounts, stan edits, comments like:

“whoever she is… I fear I’m her now” “idk who she is but I know she smells like vanilla and reads poetry” “Pedro Pascal out on a date???? Real man hours” “y’all think this is PR? 😭”

You fall back into the pillows, groaning into the sheets. “I literally had exams yesterday. I was studying in a hoodie like twelve hours ago.”

Pedro chuckles softly. “And now you’re an anonymous femme fatale. Wild.”

You glance over at him. “This doesn’t freak you out?”

“Not really.” He reaches out, brushing your hair back. “I’ve been through worse. You okay, though?”

“I mean…” You sit up, wrapping the sheet around yourself. “I didn’t think this was gonna get real like that. That fast.”

Pedro watches you quietly for a moment. Then he reaches for your hand.

“We don’t have to rush anything. If you want to pull back, stay private, disappear for a bit, we can do that. But I also—” He pauses, thumb brushing your knuckles. “I like this. You and me. I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

You soften. “I don’t want that either.”

“Then we play it smart.” He smiles a little. “Let them talk. They don’t know anything.”

You squeeze his hand. “Okay. But if I get doxxed by a thirteen-year-old running a fan cam account…”

“I’ll delete the internet for you.”

You laugh, and he leans over to kiss your temple.

Just like that, the tension fades a little. Not gone, not really, but tucked away beside the coffee cups and slow mornings and quiet confessions in bed.

You wake up later to the smell of butter and fresh coffee.

The space in bed beside you is empty, but warm. Sunlight spills through the curtains in long strips, cutting across the crumpled sheets and your bare legs. You stretch slowly, sore in the sweetest way, your body still humming from the night before.

You find Pedro in the kitchen, barefoot in his plaid pajama pants, the ones with a little rip near the pocket. He’s focused on the skillet in front of him, brows furrowed, spatula in hand like he’s trying to win an award for best boyfriend breakfast.

You linger in the doorway, quietly watching him like you’re afraid saying his name will break the spell.

He turns at just the right moment, catching you with a sleepy smile.

“Well, good morning, mystery girl.”

You grin. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? You are a mystery.” He gestures to the open laptop on the kitchen counter. “You’re trending.”

Your stomach dips. “So it wasn’t just a bad dream?”

Pedro nods. “Hashtag 'Pedro Pascal Date Night' has entered the chat.”

You groan and pad into the room, barefoot in his T-shirt, curling your arms around his waist from behind. “This is so surreal.”

He leans back into you just enough to kiss your knuckles. “You’re still you. I’m still me. Nothing changes that.”

You rest your cheek against his back. “I know, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting it to feel this big.”

Pedro turns gently in your arms and cups your face with those warm, capable hands. “Then let’s keep it small. Just you and me in this kitchen. My bad pancakes. Your bedhead. The rest can wait.”

You nod. Let him kiss you. Let him hold you like that.

A few minutes later, you’re sitting at the little dining table while he plates the eggs, toast, and strawberries in a way that’s oddly charming and not very symmetrical. He brings you your coffee just the way you like it—too much cream, not enough sugar.

“God,” you say, taking a sip. “This is dangerously domestic.”

Pedro raises an eyebrow, settling across from you. “Dangerous?”

You smirk. “You’re lucky I’m into it.”

He lets out a low laugh. “You have no idea how into you I am.”

You pause, caught off guard by how easily he says it. How it doesn’t scare you the way you thought it would.

After a beat, you lean across the table and whisper, “So what happens next?”

Pedro reaches for your hand, his thumb brushing the back of it like it’s second nature.

“Whatever you want,” he says. “We will figure it out. Together.”

And there it is again—that quiet thrum of something honest. Something with roots.

Hope.

divider by @/cursed-carmine 🏷️ @zevrra @xodilfluvr @annulmaelae @millersdoll @inbred-eater @thezatannaprint @stvrl1ghtt123 @umadirectioner @aj0elap0l0gist @heather81 @subconsciouscollapse @catch1ngmoths @littlemillersbaby @lizziesfirstwife @amyispxnk

[anashins]

Room 803

Pairing: university student!Jaehyun x kindergarten teacher!reader

Genre: fake engagement au, neighbors au, age gap, hate to love, drama, romance, smut

Word Count: 26k

Warnings: reader is five years older than Jaehyun; Jaehyun doesn't treat women very nicely in the beginning; there is a lot of scheming going on; some characters have a questionable moral compass (cheating, blackmailing, lying, traditional family arrangements); there is an explicit rated scene (handjob, mc gets hand over mouth) and two suggestive ones, all of which you can skip if you want

Summary: You hate your neighbor in room 803 to the core, because his raunchy and very vocal bed activities always keep you up at night. There is no scenario in which you can ever imagine tolerating a lousy brute like him—until you get entangled in a web of lies and your neighbor comes into picture to play along. Your raunchy, lousy neighbor, who, to your surprise, fits the role of your fake fiancé very well. Almost too well.

A/N: Hi! So this is the result of ring window shopping and the Unconditional MV. I drew inspiration for the opening scene from my very own fic "Sinned" that I've first published on Aff. Leave feedback if you want <3 Happy reading! (D-482 until Jaehyun returns)

Finding a suitable apartment in the downtown of a very busy metropolis was a challenge. 

There were many things to consider during apartment hunting: the location, the price, the layout, the facilities, and also the distance to the next station depending on your commute. Nobody wanted to live in a rundown one bedroom on the 10th floor with no elevator and paper thin walls for which you still paid a fortune.

You were very lucky to have none of that.

Your apartment consisted of two rooms in a new building and was located on the 8th floor. It had three elevators, a concierge service, and even a small convenience store connected to the lobby. It cost more than a third of your salary, but with all the benefits, it was worth it. You couldn’t have thanked your co-worker enough to have passed it on to you when she had moved away, so that you could finally live closer to your workplace.

You loved your new apartment. 

But you hated your neighbors.

A neighbor on the 9th floor liked to play the drums for at least two hours a day and usually chose to do that when you had already returned home from work. A neighbor on the 7th floor liked to discuss things very heatedly with his girlfriend right by the window. Three rooms away from you on the 8th floor, there was a dog barking constantly, and somewhere else in the building, a tenant invited guests over to throw a party almost every Saturday night.

But your next-door-neighbor living in room 803 was the worst. 

“Yes, right there! Oh my… yes, yes yes!”

It was 1am on a Sunday night and you were supposed to get up in five hours, not having found even a single minute of sleep until now since the noises had been going on for an hour already at this point.

“Oh… Jaehyun! Ahhh! Oooooh!”

You pressed your pillow against your face and muffled your agonized scream in it. Almost every night, it was the same. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, and you were able to count yourself lucky if he paused these sessions for two or three days in a row. But then they came back even stronger. And tonight was such a night. 

“Yes, oh god… oh my god! Ahhh, Jaehyun!”

You clenched your fist, raised your arm and hammered against the wall. 

But instead of slowing down, stopping or even reacting to you, you now heard his bed pound against the wall that separated your rooms, accompanied by the woman’s constant screaming.

“Shut up, it’s in the middle of the night!” you yelled.

“Get lost, we’re done already!” he yelled back.

Following his words, you then noticed the silence that had suddenly filled your room, finally allowing you to welcome your well-deserved sleep as tomorrow, another long workday awaited you. But your neighbor, of course, didn’t understand as he would start all over again tomorrow night. 

He was a university student in his senior year, his naturally dark hair constantly messy and bleached blond to the brink of extinction, always dressed in joggers and hoodies, and apparently enjoying life to the fullest. 

He was your neighbor Jeong Jaehyun, living in room 803 and your personal enemy since day one.

____

After having tried to conceal the dark circles under your eyes with heavy makeup the next morning, you were late again as you let the entry door fall closed behind you and hurried along the hallway with your heels audibly clacking over the floor. You called for the elevator by pressing the button and waited nervously, praying in silence that you would still catch the next subway.

From behind you, you heard another door getting opened and pivoting around, you spotted a woman stepping out of apartment 803. Or better say, she was thrown out as she only stood in the corridor in her underwear, another two pieces of clothing falling to her feet that had come shooting from the opened entry door. 

“I don’t even get breakfast?” she sulked as she picked up her clothes from the floor. 

“I told you not to rummage through my home.”

Jaehyun emerged by the door now, his blond hair sticking out to all sides as he seemingly tried to block her away back in. He was wearing a bathrobe and was clearly still tired too. Even though you wanted to, it was so hard for you to look away as you were curious about what was going on. 

“You’re an asshole!” the woman ranted while gathering her clothes. “I was only looking for a toothbrush!”

“You can look in your own home.” Jaehyun then dropped something else next to her on the floor while she was still crouching down. “Don’t forget your purse.”

You thought you were fast in turning away from the scene without anyone noticing, but he was faster in catching your curious eyes before you were facing them with your back. You drew in a breath and hoped he wouldn’t call you out on that, but Jaehyun wasn’t that kind of person. 

“Hey, Miss Neighbor!” he yelled. “Next time, instead of complaining… how about joining?”

Bringing your bag closer to your body, you suppressed your embarrassment and looked back again to threaten, “Next time, I won’t be yelling only, but come over with my baseball bat!”

You hated the grin he then threw at you. “So you’re into that kind of stuff, huh? Come over and we’ll see about that.”

Luckily, one of the elevators reached your floor at exactly that moment and you were quick enough to get in before Jaehyun’s one night stand could make it to the door at the same time.

The entire commute to the kindergarten, you thought about nothing else than your lack of sleep and how to finally put an end to this entire nonsense. At this point, it was ridiculous. You had been enduring that kind of shenanigans for one month already, and you were slowly getting fed up. No, actually, you had reached your wit’s end already. In the beginning, it had been all good and quiet, and from one day to another, it had suddenly started.

You didn’t know who had hurt him so much that he needed to compensate for his pain in this manner, but you’d rather he wouldn’t drag you into it. It only forced you to interact with him when you wanted to be left alone altogether to focus on your career.

“What is it?” your class’ homeroom teacher asked you as you entered the common room that morning. “You look so tired again.” 

“Ah, it’s just that I can’t seem to sleep well lately,” you tried to budge as you placed your bag on the desk. “A weird planet constellation or something.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. What were you supposed to say anyway? That your neighbor smashed different girls so loudly every night, it kept you up for hours? People would only laugh at you.

“Try lavender tea,” she recommended to you. “This always helps me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

On your way to your respectant classroom, you were greeted by the children who had just been dropped off and getting ready to start the day.

Teaching children had always been your dream, and being an assistant teacher at a reputable private kindergarten came with few advantages in comparison to public ones, a higher salary was one of them. The hardest part was not the amount of work or the long working hours, but the strict and high-demanding parents whose individual expectations you always had to meet.

But looking into these brightly smiling faces greeting you each morning, it was all worth it.

“There is something I need to tell you,” the homeroom teacher then announced when you reached the door of your respective classroom.

“Yes? What is it?”

She kneaded her fingers in reluctance, her bag clipped between her upper arm and body. “I’m going to transfer to another school.”

“Where would you go?” you asked, perplexed. “This is Shi-A kindergarten. There are no other more prestigious kindergartens in the entire district or even country if I dare say so. Except… It’s not a kindergarten.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m going to transfer to Shi-A elementary school. A teacher will quit by the next semester and they offered the position to me.”

You grabbed her hands, excitement written all over your face. “This is such great news! I’m so happy for you!”

“Hold on, the greatest part is yet to come.” She was five years your senior, but you saw her more like a sister than your supervisor. “I recommended you to the school board as the new homeroom teacher. The principal has agreed already, we’re currently preparing your recommendation letters.”

You were too stunned to ask more than, “Me?”

She nodded and squeezed your hands back in encouragement. “There is no one better here for this position other than you. You’re compassionate, you’re helpful and intelligent. The kids love you and rely on you. You’re finished being an assistant only, I can tell. And the principal as well.” 

“Me, as a homeroom teacher?” It sounded like a faraway dream.

“Miss!” A girl from your class, Soah, tugged on your coattail. She was holding something out to you. A yellow flower. “This is for you! I just plucked it, it was the prettiest on the playground!”

You took the flower into your hand and thanked her.

“Like I said,” the homeroom teacher commented with a wink as you entered the classroom, “there is no one better for this position other than you.”

____

“Ahhh, yes!! Jaehyun, Jaehyun!”

BAM BAM BAM

“I swear to god, Jeong Jaehyun, it’s 2am now, I will come for you!”

You jumped out of your bed, only dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a simple t-shirt, not bothering about throwing your bathrobe on or slipping into a pair of shoes at this point. You would only go to Jaehyun’s door and ring the bell to interrupt whatever they were doing right now.

“If I’m not getting any sleep, you’re not getting nutted either!”

Tomorrow, you had a very important meeting with the school board members and wanted to be well rested. So at least, for tonight only, you had hoped to get a few more hours of sleep. You had studied possible questions and answers for days by now and were not only tired, but also mentally exhausted.

But, of course, a reckless university student like Jaehyun wouldn’t understand.

When you reached your entrance door, just about to exit your apartment, you halted mid-motion, interrupted by a sound you had never heard before in this apartment building.

The fire alarm.

You were petrified at first, unsure how to react in such a situation as your mind wasn’t able to grasp the entire meaning yet. As it slowly sank down on you that it most likely meant danger as the alarm hadn’t subsided by now, you reacted very fast by finally opening the door and looking to your left and right.

At first, nothing happened, and you questioned whether your neighbors would react according to emergency plans. But then, one door after another opened on your floor and out stormed the tenants, passing by you and running down the stairs like their lives depended on it.

“Damn it!” you cursed and left your apartment the next moment as well, thinking about all your electronics and important papers that were still inside. 

But in kindergarten, you also regularly taught the children how to behave during a fire alarm, and the first and most important thing was to drop everything and get the hell out of the building. So when you were about to run down the stairs, you remembered that there was one person who hadn’t come out of their apartment yet.

“Hey!” you hammered against Jaehyun’s door after you had returned. “Hey! It’s a fire alarm! Can’t you hear?!”

Your own voice didn’t drown out the signal tone, but you tried nonetheless - to no avail. Jaehyun and whoever was with him wouldn’t come out.

“Miss, what are you still doing here?” The middle-aged man whose dog was always barking on your floor approached you with his pet. “We need to leave! Who knows where the fire has spread already!”

“But Jae-”

But the man just grabbed you by your hand and dragged you along the corridor, his strength too overpowering for you to resist. Even with your head turned and your eyes fixated on Jaehyun’s door, you couldn’t spot him coming out.

Inwardly, you just prayed that he perhaps had reacted fast and left already, but as all the residents slowly gathered in the front yard one by one, you couldn’t recognize Jaehyun among the people storming out of the lobby.

You didn’t know why you cared about that brute, just enough to look out for him.

Perhaps, your job as a teacher had made you sensitive to your surroundings and responsible for the people around you regardless of age and behaviour. You wanted everyone around you to be safe and sound, and that didn’t apply to children only.

“Where are you?” you muttered more to yourself as you got on your bare tiptoes and looked over the crowd as the last people were leaving the building, still no sign of Jaehyun.

“Looking for someone?”

“Oh my-!” you called out and stumbled backwards against the person that had just addressed you.

When you turned around, Jaehyun was standing in front of you, fully dressed in checkered pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt, his blond hair reflecting the light from the street lamp. So he had really made it out without you noticing, even after getting dressed. God knew how this had been even possible.

“Mrs. Choi,” you dodged the topic quickly. “I haven’t seen her yet.”

Jaehyun pointed at someone only two meters away from you, an elderly lady from the same floor. “There she is.”

“Ah, I see. Thank god.”

You buried your hands deep into the pockets of your pajama pants and stepped from one foot on another to warm them up a bit. You indeed had left your slippers behind in a hurry and had only noticed when it was already too late, so your toes were now cold and your soles dirty.

“Here.” Jaehyun slid out of his slippers and then stood next to you with naked feet. “Take them.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Look, your toes are slowly turning blue, and even if it’s still warm during the day, at night it’s already chilly since we almost have October already. So take them.”

You crossed your arms to warm yourself up a little more and, with much hesitation though, slid your feet into Jaehyun’s slippers. They were way too big and didn’t protect your feet from the cool breeze, but at least you didn’t need to stand on the cold and dirty asphalt anymore.

“Thank you,” you said.

Jaehyun raised his head up to the building complex. “It doesn’t seem like there is a huge fire anywhere, otherwise there would be fumes coming out of an apartment already.”

Red and blue light caught your both’s attention that was coming from the firetruck currently pulling up into the lane. Different firefighters got ready and stormed into the building in full attire, but Jaehyun was right. You couldn’t detect a fire either.

“Maybe it was only a small one and they managed to put it out already. Or someone was illegally smoking inside the apartment and the detector still picked up the fumes.”

“Whoever that was, they robbed me of a night’s fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate? If they hadn’t done that, then I would have come for you myself, because I have an important interview tomorrow. But unfortunately, this situation is worse. God knows when we can return to our homes.”

“What interview? Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“For my promotion, it’s in the headquarters. I want to be a homeroom teacher, and in my kindergarten, there is no such thing as weekends.”

“Sounds annoying,” Jaehyun commented.

You flashed your eyes at him. “Of course, for someone who sleeps until midday and whose only aim it is to smash different women every night, this sounds annoying. But I’m a full grown adult with a real job, and if only you knew about how hard it is, you wouldn’t be so reckless with your noises at two in the morning!”

For the break of a second, you had hoped that you could possibly hold a normal conversation with Jaehyun. That he wasn’t that much of a prick, that you could explain yourself and he would understand your standpoint. But he was nothing other than your expected player, and you had had enough of them during your own time in university.

You then fled to the very front of the crowd right by the lobby without Jaehyun following you, and luckily, not much later, the firefighters declared the building safe. The alarm had been set off on the fourth floor by the partying tenant and his guests who had indeed ignored the rules and smoked inside.

You hurried inside along with the other residents, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to linger around long enough until you weighed yourself in safety from Jaehyun’s presence. 

You only returned much later to your apartment than all the others and were back in bed by 4am without having to face your next-door-neighbor again. Too late to get enough sleep still after all.

_____

“We are very pleased with your answers so far, miss.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

You bowed in your seat, all the weight from the past days getting lifted off your shoulders. Despite the night before being a total chaos and you running on three hours of sleep only, you had made it on time to the interview and had even been able to revise everything during your commute.

Screw Jaehyun, you were great on your own.

“But there is one thing we’re concerned about,” the director said.

As you looked up, you perceived how nervously he was fidgeting in his seat as were the other board members, throwing some meaningful glances at each other. You knew it had been too easy until now. A woman in her late twenties who had only been teaching for three years overall, becoming a homeroom teacher at this prestigious kindergarten that quickly? There was always a catch.

“We’re concerned the students’ parents might not be content with our choice if we decide to put you in that position.”

“What could they be discontent about?” you asked as the director showed reluctance to continue. “I have my degrees, the experience, as well as the homeroom teacher’s and the kindergarten principal’s recommendation letters. With all respect, I am very qualified for this position, sir.”

“We are not concerned about your qualifications, miss.” He paused. “But about your living circumstances.”

You raised a brow. “My… living circumstances?”

“You’re a young woman living alone, who’s also unmarried,” a board member then raised his voice to take the pressure off the director. For sure, they had talked about this in private before. This felt like an ambush. “This is not something that is likely to be accepted among the childrens’ parents as they put great value in traditional family arrangements. As you know, it’s one of the pillars our schools are based on: tradition.”

You scoffed inwardly, but remained expressionless on the outside. Luckily, you knew how to deal with ambushes. You had so much to say about what they viewed as traditional family arrangements, but you loved it here and didn’t want to lose the job on the spot, so you kept your lips sealed and responded as politely as possible,

“I don’t know why my living arrangements would be any parents’ concern. If I can afford a nice apartment close to the kindergarten where I spend many hours preparing everything for their children to receive the absolute best education, shouldn’t that speak for my living arrangement? I also put great value on tradition. Just because I’m not married yet, doesn’t mean I never want to or won’t get married one day. Everyone has their own timeline and this should not block my career.”

“We’re aware about that, miss. But as you might also know, the parents have a fundamental right of co-determination in our schools.”

“Because since it’s a private institution, they finance everything,” you wanted to interrupt, but kept that sentence to yourself only. Instead, you said, “I dedicate all my time and passion to cater to their children. I am one of the firsts to enter and leave the kindergarten, even working more from home. I volunteer to teach on the weekends and during semester breaks. Does this not count more than the fact that I’m an unmarried woman who’s living alone?”

You were pushing boundaries by demanding an answer, you knew that, but it was nothing very reputable board members couldn’t rationally reply to. The fact that they didn’t, only proved that you were right and they were mere cowards under the invisible whiplash of wealthy parents. Without them and their money, their schools’ reputation wouldn’t be where it was now.

“We can’t change the parents’ opinions, miss,” the director eventually spoke up, retreating into a defending mode and putting the blame entirely on the parents instead of standing up for you, an assistant he had approved of hiring two years ago. Again, such cowards. “We will forward your documents and records to them, but that means a background check as well. And, if I may be frank, I can tell that you’re going to get ruled out solely for that reason.”

“Then change it,” you interrupted him. “Change my status to engaged. This is what they want, right?”

“Miss… we cannot counterfeit your documents.”

“They won’t be counterfeited, because it’s true,” you said with a confident voice. “I wanted to keep my private life private, at least until I get officially married. But I have no choice now to announce it before I actually wanted to. Yes, I am engaged and we’re going to get married soon.”

All the board members seemed to be taken aback by your sudden confessions. Perhaps, their reaction was genuine. Perhaps, they also knew you were lying. But what proof would they have to actually ascribe this lie to you? They threw meaningful gazes at each other again, unsure of what to make of this change in the situation. 

“Very well, miss.” The director eventually spoke up and nodded. “I will mention this in your documents and you can hand in a copy of your marriage certificate later when the papers are through.”

“But is this enough time, sir? It has to be decided within two months, the principal told me. I don’t know whether it will be enough time since the engagement is still new and we haven’t set a fixed date yet.”

“That’s true. If you want to convince the parents of your skills and background, I would recommend you to organize the school festival together with them. Volunteer for an activity in which your fiancé can participate as well and show them what a great couple you are. When they’re convinced, the paperwork will only be formalities.”

You swore you saw one corner of his lip tug up, either in malicious glee or in pure relief. Did he know?

“I understand, sir.” You bowed deeply. “Thank you very much.”

“And one last thing… You can start wearing your engagement ring from now if you don’t want to make a huge announcement. It’s more convincing.”

Oh, he knew. But he couldn’t care less as long as you didn’t get him in hot waters.

You nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”

On your way home, you stopped by a jeweler and picked out a nice, but cheap ring, a replica of your own dream ring, just beautiful and sparkly enough to get this lie through.

____

You had dedicated your entire life to this kindergarten, not only neglecting your family along the way, but also your friends. 

In fact you hadn’t talked or even answered your friends in months. You didn’t know what they were up to nowadays except for what they were giving away through status updates in your texting app. You scrolled through your contacts in the messenger, but sighed whenever one of the rare male names popped up. Some of them were married already, two had children.

They had all been your friends in university, but you hadn’t talked to any of them in an embarrassingly long time, so there was no one you could ask. How awkward must that be for someone to suddenly get a message about going along with a fake engagement from an old classmate they hadn’t seen in years?

“I’m so screwed!” you groaned and stretched out in your bed, throwing your phone aside. “Oh god, why!”

Perhaps, it was time to look for a new job, even though you loved the children and Shi-A kindergarten was the best reference for your CV. There was no coming back from all your lies anyway. Until now, you couldn’t quite grasp what had brought you to tell them what they wanted to hear. You should have just accepted their answer and moved on. Why did you have to be so impulsive at times, needing to get what you wanted right away?

People did separate before their wedding, that was possible, so there was a way out after all. You could stay an assistant teacher for several more years, there was nothing wrong with it. But the shame and pity you would need to deal with afterwards… 

The next moment, you sat up, your train of thoughts getting interrupted by the door bell, and the person behind the entrance was someone you hadn’t expected that day as he had never come over before.

“My shoes.”

“Huh?”

“My shoes.” A barefooted, messy blond-haired Jaehyun pointed at the shoe rack behind you. “You still have them.”

“Ah, right.” You quickly grabbed them and dropped the pair in front of his naked feet. “Here.”

But Jaehyun didn’t slip in right away. Instead, he questioned, “How did it go?”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Did what go?”

“The interview.”

You growled and your tongue loosened over the newly awakened stress, “Apparently, they don’t want a young, unmarried woman, who’s also living alone, teaching their children, so it did not go very well. It went all downhill when I said that I was going to get married soon to save my promotion. They invited my fake fiancé to the kindergarten to help out at the festival so that the parents get a chance to bond with him.”

“So you’re getting married?” He sounded as perplexed as the board members. Why was it such a big deal to imagine you getting married anyway?

“No! I’m not! That’s the catch. Now I have to get a fake fiancé from somewhere.”

“Hm. So you lied.”

“A bit.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like a bit of lying in my book.”

“I know, okay? Thanks for pointing it out.”

You didn’t know why you had told him all that. Perhaps, among the path you had chosen for yourself, you had lost all your friends and now had no one you could talk to whenever you faced a problem. He was just there, at the right moment.

“Really sucks for you.” Jaehyun shrugged and slipped into his shoes. He then turned around and disappeared back into his apartment.

You could have also talked to a wall.

____

“You never told me that you were engaged! And what an amazing ring with such a big diamond!” Your homeroom teacher jumped up and down in excitement as you two made your way to the entrance gate in the late evening at the same time as club activities ended. “I didn't even know you had a boyfriend! All this time you were keeping it a secret!”

“It has spread quite fast, hasn’t it?” you laughed out shyly.

“Totally! Is he going to help out during the school festival? My theater class still needs volunteers and your fiancé can join as well.”

“Sure,” you lied. “I can’t promise anything for him though, because he’s so busy, but he’ll try.”

“Has he ever been here though?” she asked. “Have we ever seen him?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Then who’s that?”

“Who’s what?”

She stopped in her tracks and pointed at the entrance gate. “The dark haired man standing there who clearly doesn’t look like he’s here to pick up a child since he’s only staring at you.”

Shifting your head, you spotted your neighbor standing right by the gate. You had barely recognized him, because the light blond hair was gone and now dyed dark. No way! What was he doing here? And how was he looking?

“It’s him, isn’t it? Hello!”

“Hey!” You grabbed her arm and pulled it down. “It’s just… he’s an introvert. Wait here, please.”

With hurried steps, you approached Jaehyun who didn’t break eye contact along the way. Surprisingly, he was dressed business casual today, in a pair of slacks and a button up. In combination with his new hair color and the strands neatly combed aside, he looked… decently handsome. It was not like he hadn’t been attractive before, that was a thought you had always tried to push away. But now it was like a fact you couldn’t run away from any longer.

You wondered whether there was a reason. Maybe, he had a date set for later. Good for him to take the women finally out and not always straight to home. Good for him to have finally found a woman who didn’t put up with his former appearance.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him without a greeting. “This is my workplace, you can’t just appear out of nowhere!” Your gaze scanned the environment and you could tell that you two had already caught a few parents’ attention, so your expression softened. “What is it?”

“I locked myself out of my apartment,” he explained. “I kind of typed the code wrong into the system and cannot get inside anymore. So I need to open the door from the inside.”

“And how is that exactly my problem?”

“I need to crawl out of your window to get into my apartment since I’ve left it open anyway.”

You frowned. “Are you nuts? Just go to the lobby and let them call the landlord!”

“There was no one there.”

“There is always someone there!”

He heaved up his shoulders. “Maybe an emergency.”

“Then use your phone!”

“I left it in my room.”

“And that’s why you came all the way here instead of asking another neighbor?”

“I thought since I’m locked out anyway, I can just come here instead of waiting. I knew where the kindergarten was located because of an envelope that had once found its way into my mailbox by accident. And I didn’t know whether you’d return directly after finishing classes or whether you’d have a date with your imaginary fiancé.” He suppressed a chuckle. “Or other imaginary friends.”

“You find that funny, right?” you chided. “But this is the job of my life. This is my life.”

“Alright.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “Can we just go home then?”

“Yeah, let me just…”

“Excuse me, you’re her fiancé, right?” Your homeroom teacher had suddenly popped up next to you, apparently too excited to be kept waiting around. “I’m sorry to butt in, but I’m so happy to finally meet you, because none of us have known about you until today! She’s so secretive!”

Perhaps, because there was absolutely nothing you could tell about your boring life. And even if, Jaehyun surely was not included! You wanted to clear up this misunderstanding when suddenly, you realized that this was your only chance to go with your lie.

He was a man. 

And he was here. 

You had no other option.

There would not be another chance this easy.

You should thank the heavens that today was the day he had decided to leave his bleached hair and joggers at home.

“That’s true!” you then declared and linked arms with Jaehyun. “He came here today to pick me up since I’ve already come forward with the truth. I’m sorry that I haven’t introduced you sooner. This is Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jeong!”

You pinched his arm and felt how he sucked in a rush of air. Given he knew the context, he understood. You only prayed to the heavens again that he would just go with it. The logistics of this all, you would figure out only later.

“Nice to meet you too! I’ve already heard so much about you,” Jaehyun greeted back politely.

You didn’t believe your ears. Even if you had hoped so, you hadn’t actually thought that he would play your imaginary fiancé so well from the spot. 

“I already suggested that you volunteer in my theater group for the school festival, but she said you’re always so busy. Nonetheless, I still hope for you to step by every now and then, or at least come by on the day of the festival itself. That would be awesome as many of the teachers’ families and the childrens’ families are also visiting. It’s a chance to get to know each other.”

Jaehyun smiled broadly. “Of course I will help out as well, that’s a given. I’ll make time, no worries.”

“Such a polite and kind man!” Your homeroom teacher beamed at you. “Where have you been hiding him all this time?”

That was a question you were asking yourself now as well. 

____

“Nice furniture,” Jaehyun commented when you walked into your apartment. “But a bit too tacky for my taste.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my interior. I still don’t know why you just didn’t refer to the lobbyist who’s already back by now.” 

“Calling the landlord and setting a new code is just too much hassle and takes up too much time. This way, it’s quicker.”

You opened the window in your bedroom and dragged Jaehyun across the carpet by his arm. “Then, get out.”

“When should I be ready?” he asked instead and turned to you.

“Be ready for what?” You blinked in puzzlement.

“The theater activity.”

“There is no way I’m going to let you join me in school!” you quickly defied him. “You’re… loud, rude and reckless! Only this one time was enough, there were enough witnesses to prove your existence.”

Jaehyun cleared his throat. “In your teacher’s words, I’m a very polite and kind man.”

“Only to authorities, apparently.”

“I can be very nice!”

“But not to me.”

“You’ve never given me a reason to be nice to you.”

You halted. “And the women you throw out every morning? You’re not nice to them either.”

“That’s a whole other story. I only throw out the rude ones, sometimes they get breakfast.”

You snorted when he grinned. “What’s differentiating me from them?” 

“They’re an obligation. You’re a choice.”

“So you’ve chosen to be mean to me?”

“No.” Jaehyun climbed on the window sill. “I’ve chosen to act according to what you’re giving me. Have you ever been nice to me at all? All you’ve ever done was hammering against my wall and ignoring me whenever our paths cross. That’s not very nice. Today, I’ve chosen to do something nice for you. Can I expect the same from you? I’m not quite sure.”

And off he went, out of the window, leaving you behind with much food for thought over what had happened since you had moved in. With slow steps, you returned to your living room, taking a seat on the couch. You stared into nothingness, pondering over Jaehyun’s words thoroughly. 

What did you know about him, actually? Not very much, if anything at all. Where you had spoken to your other neighbors almost in an instant upon moving in, you had never given Jaehyun a chance to properly introduce himself. You had quickly written him off as a player who you didn’t want to get involved with. What could you have in common anyway since he was so much younger?

But as a preschool teacher, you knew how dangerous it was to hold such prejudices towards people you didn’t know. This wasn’t your philosophy. 

So two hours later, you stood in front of Jaehyun’s door. It was past 9pm already, but you had to do the deeds today, otherwise you were afraid that all courage would leave your body by the end of the day.

“What is it?!” Jaehyun barked, then stopped. “Oh, it’s you.”

You held out the plate in front of him, still not having gotten used to the dark hair. “Here.”

He raised his brows, looking at a simple chocolate cake. “What’s this?”

“A peace offer.”

You didn’t dare to look him in the face, but his hand finally moved and clasped around the plate, touching yours in the process. With a slight smile on his face that you encountered when you lifted your head, Jaehyun took the cake.

“Peace offer accepted. So, when’s the start?” 

You inhaled deeply. “Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there.”

“But why?” you still wanted to know. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I think there might be something you can give me in return.”

Of course, there was always a catch. “And what would that be?”

Jaehyun made a meaningful pause. “Tutoring lessons.”

You nearly laughed out loud. “I teach kindergarteners, not university students. I mean, yes I studied with the focus on elementary school, but higher education is not my forte.”

“Isn’t it the same? Teaching people, who don’t know stuff, stuff they must know?”

“I don’t even know your major, your courses! How am I supposed to help you?”

“I’ll send you my sheets beforehand and you can teach me to understand the essence of them.”

You stood there, totally flabbergasted as you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the situation yet. “And that’s all that you want?”

He nodded. “That’s all.”

“It’s not on par with what you offer to me.”

He shrugged. “For me, it is.”

You didn’t know why, but you quite didn’t believe him fully. Either he bore some ulterior motives or he was so bad in university that he was on the brink of failing his classes anyway. In regard to his lifestyle, you could very well imagine the latter. Why not hire a professional tutor then? What was the point of all this?

“Fine,” you then gave in. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow right away. I’ll send you the stuff.” 

You walked out of the door, but not before shifting around to him one last time. “Your new hair color… I like it. It suits you. Though I was used to always seeing your hair first before your face.”

“I still have to get used to it as well.”

“Why did you dye it?”

“I thought it was time for a change.” Suddenly, his gaze fell on your finger. “That’s the ring I have supposedly given you? I should know about it.”

“Princess cut, two carats. Or so it seems.” You held out your hand and looked at the piece of jewelry. “Actually, it’s my dream ring, but it’s not real, just a cheap replica. I hope nobody will notice though as they surely wear diamonds much bigger than that.”

“Women… such an enigma. I never understood why they pay so much attention to an expensive engagement ring anyway. Triple the amount of the man’s salary it should be, no?”

“First, that kind of scale is already dated. Second, I share your opinion. But…” You were about to say something very private, but you felt safe enough to do it at that moment, “I haven't grown up being able to afford nice things myself let alone getting these kinds of things gifted. So the thought of me being so important to someone to invest in valuable jewelry for me means very much.”

“I see.”

He nodded acknowledgement and let you leave.

____

According to his papers, Jaehyun was studying business management. 

You didn’t know much about the subject, but the papers were quite clear with what they wanted their students to grasp, and as it was indeed your job to teach even preschoolers exactly how to study the material, you didn’t see a reason as to why it would be different with your grown up neighbor.

Of course, upon entering his apartment for the first time, you had also scanned the entire space that was exactly like yours in the layout, only mirrored. Against your expectations, he was furnished and equipped quite comfortably and modernly, not too spartanic as you had expected from a young man his age. The door to his bedroom was closed though. Too bad, you were curious about that one the most.

“That’s quite a delicious cake!” Jaehyun praised as he sat down next to you at the table, the plate with the slice in front of him. “You’re a good baker, I have to admit.”

“Having to participate in many kindergarten events, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

“Say.” Jaehyun put his fork back on the plate and leaned in to you. “Why do you love this job so much? Aren’t you annoyed by the children? The parents? The other teachers? Having people around you all day long?”

You flipped through his papers, marking the passages you deemed worth memorizing. “Of course it gets stressful and annoying when, for example, children won’t listen, when you can’t meet the parents expectations or when the teachers put so much pressure on you. But…” A smile spread across your face that Jaehyun still encountered even though you had kept your head low. “... the reward, when they all succeed in the end, is all worth it.”

“Hm.” He kept staring at you, and his unwavering gaze made you flush a little. “Sounds legit for someone like you who loves her job so much, she’s willing to put up with a fake engagement.”

“I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am now,” you explained to him with a calm voice. “I don’t want to throw everything away because I’m an unmarried woman.”

“What’s so bad about being an unmarried woman?”

You hadn’t expected such a question. “Nothing, honestly. It just doesn’t meet their norm.”

“And when it’s all done… What will you tell them? That your fiancé left you at the altar? That you broke off your engagement?”

“By then, if you play along, I will have the job already. And yes, then I will then tell them exactly that. That we’ve broken up.”

“I see.” Jaehyun leaned back, giving you room to breathe again. “Well, if you think so.”

“Can we start with your studies now?” you asked. “We’re not only here for you to question me.”

“Of course.” Jaehyun took the fork in his hand again and broke a piece off the cake that he then led to his mouth. “Go on, what should I know?”

In the two hours you were teaching your neighbor, you came to the conclusion that there was no difference between being his teacher or one to your kindergarteners. Even though Jaehyun was a university student, you could maintain your teaching methods despite having a different subject at the base.

“I’m done!” Jaehyun raised his arms and stretched himself. “Finally!”

You closed the books and jumped out of your seat. “It’s almost 11pm already! I need to go, catching up on some sleep.”

“Ah yeah, my visitor will also be here soon, so you better hurry.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you please stay a bit calmer tonight for me to sleep in peace?”

He winked jokingly. “As I said, you can always join. But today, I will, as a thank you for your tutoring lesson.”

He didn’t keep his promise.

____

“Miss, how do I look?” A little boy from the parallel group appeared next to you, dressed as an apple tree. His expression radiated insecurity, but you remembered very well how pumped he had been about finally landing a role in the play. “The others are all laughing at me.”

You crouched down and took the boy’s tiny hands into yours. It was Wednesday, so this was another evening dedicated to the preparations for the festival. His costume consisted of brown pants and a green shirt. He also wore a headgear that framed his face from which apples made of polystyrene were hanging. 

“You look amazing! Don’t listen to others. Your role is very much important. And you know why the apple tree is so important in the play?” He shook his head and you squeezed his tiny fingers in encouragement. “Because you’re the only apple tree. Without you, we wouldn’t even be able to perform. So regardless of what the others say, remember that you’re one of a kind, that you’re unique and very important. Okay?”

Now, a bright smile spread across his face. “Okay!”

You arose from your crouching position and turned around to let your eyes scan the hall. Then, you spotted your neighbor for whom you had waited already. And he was not alone.

With fast steps, you descended from the stage and nervously approached Jaehyun who was currently having a seemingly nice chat with a parent. And not any parent as a matter of fact. In front of him stood Shi-A schools’ main investor, and you hadn’t prepared him for that kind of situation! 

You had aged Jaehyun up to one year your senior and had also come up with a background story both of you agreed on was believable enough. Of course Jaehyun couldn’t be a student in front of these successful parents who were all directors, doctors and builders. You had first suggested for him to be a lawyer, but, in his words, Jaehyun didn’t want to be “such a stuck up suit-wearer”.

“Ah, miss, there you are!” Mr. Nam, Soah’s father and the owner of several bank branches across the country, welcomed you as you joined their chat and came to a halt next to Jaehyun. “I’m so disappointed that I haven’t gotten to meet your fiancé much sooner! Such a charming and smart man!”

You looked at Jaehyun who had dressed up in suit trousers and a white button up again, his hair neatly slicked back with only one strand falling into his face. His entire presence radiated a successful businessman, inferior to no one. You were quite impressed, he looked very much believable. And insanely handsome.

“Mr. Nam, it’s so good to see you! Yes, my fiancé is usually really busy, so I’m glad he was able to make time today to help out with the preparations for the festival,” you explained. 

“Of course.” Mr. Nam nodded. “I was only able to come today, because I canceled a meeting to see my precious Soah. I know what it’s like to run a business and having to miss important school events, so I talked about that with your fiancé. I didn’t know he was a COO!”

You tried to hide your surprise and forced a smile. Jaehyun had chosen to be involved in running a business according to his major, the age old enough to be COO, but not CEO yet. You just hoped he knew what he was talking about with the professionals, being so close to graduation.

“You know, honey,” Jaehyun addressed you, and it made your skin crawl how he used this pet name for lovers, “Mr. Nam invited us to his getaway in the countryside in two weeks.”

The middle-aged man nodded. “Mr. Jeong and I have instantly bonded over our occupations and our weekend getaway will help him form connections. Several friends of mine as well as parents of this school and other business partners will be present too. Your fiancé is still fairly young and new to the business as a COO, but I’m always pleased to show the next generation their way. It will be a great chance for you both.”

You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Two years of working at this school and no parent had ever invited you anywhere. But it had taken Jaehyun literally five minutes only to get invited on a weekend getaway with the main investor! 

This was such a big chance for you to strengthen the bond with the most influential parents and investors, and show them that you were indeed capable of doing this job right - with and certainly without a man. 

“Of course we will join, Mr. Nam!” You bowed to him. “We’re very grateful to have received this invitation.”

Mr. Nam went on with his duty of helping his daughter and Jaehyun followed you to the stage. 

“You know that it’s not going to be easy during that weekend, right?” 

“Yes, but I need this weekend. If they see that I fit in, they will acknowledge me as a capable teacher, even without a marriage certificate. This will be the best opportunity to win their favor and then play the broken hearted teacher who they will all sympathize with after my breakup. Only Mr. and Mrs. Nam’s approval is enough, and every other parent will do as they say, that’s how powerful they are.”

“And what does being a capable teacher have anything to do with you being married or not?” he genuinely wanted to know. “You said there was nothing wrong with you being an unmarried woman living alone.”

You stopped in your tracks and smiled crookedly. “Apparently, they pay much attention to tradition, I told you already. And an unmarried woman living alone does not live up to their expectations since they’re very conservative. But I’m sure I can prove to them-”

“This is bullshit and you know it,” Jaehyun interrupted you dryly. “If I were a parent, I would favor an unmarried woman, who is a great person herself, to teach my children rather than someone trapped in a loveless marriage, who passes on her misery to her students.”

“You’re not wrong, but what can I do? It is how it is.” You shrugged. “Are you saying you’re not with me in this now?”

“Of course I still am if you also still want it. But as I said, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Why? It’s going smooth now as well.”

Jaehyun cleared his throat. “Well… we truly have to act like a couple, you know, since it’s a private setting. With all the pet names, skinship and stuff, honey.”

Again, you cringed. “Shut up, Jaehyun, it’s not that deep.”

He laughed. “If you say so…”

You two approached the stage, stepped on the platform and immediately had a group of boys run towards you. 

“Mister, you’re so tall,” one of them said to Jaehyun. “Can you help us hang these lights up please?”

“Of course!” Jaehyun agreed with genuine joy. “Where do you need them?”

“Over there, please!”

He rolled his white sleeves up his elbows in preparation. With much caution, Jaehyun took the string of lights they had been holding out to him into his own hands and attached them shortly over his head to the background of the stage.

“You wanna do this yourselves?” he then asked the boys as they came over to him with another chain of colorful lights.

“But we’re too short!”

“Not anymore now!” Jaehyun got on his knees and lifted one of the boys up in the air. “You’re tall enough now?”

The boy giggled and pumped his fist. “A bit higher, mister, please!”

“Alright!”

Jaehyun laughed along with them and stretched out his arms until the boy could reach the marked spots in the background. The child was effortlessly able to attach the lights onto where they belonged before Jaehyun set him back on the floor.

“Thank you, mister!”

You watched the scene with a smile, unknowingly. The fact that Jaehyun was this good with children had been a secret to you too, until now.

Perhaps, he wasn’t always your prick of a neighbor and there was much more to him than his nocturnal activities. Somehow, this piqued your interest and you wanted to get to know more about him in all sincerity.

____

“So, you got the gist of it, right?”

Jaehyun nodded. “Enough for me to not flunk the exam this time again.”

“Alright.” You snapped the book shut and stretched yourself. “I’ll get going now then.”

“Are you hungry?” Jaehyun asked instead when you made a move to raise from the chair. “It’s past 9 already and I’m hella hungry.”

“Well… I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and just wanted to go to the convenience store to grab a quick bite.”

“I’ll prepare dinner.”

It was a subtle invitation, and although he didn’t speak it out, he wanted you to stay for a reason you didn’t quite understand yet. Reluctant at first, you wiggled in your seat, unsure of what to do. But Jaehyun didn’t leave you much room for decision as he already opened the refrigerator and took out a sealed pack of chicken.

“Should I help you?” you asked and jumped up, eager to put this awkwardness behind you.

“Yeah, you can cut the vegetables. They’re in the fridge, I just put them in there just in case, so they’re not frozen yet.”

“Okay.”

When you opened the fridge, you spotted the cake you had given to him, only halfway eaten and frozen. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, and surely not openly, but it kind of hurt you. Yet, you couldn’t bite down a snarky remark.

“You could have just told me the truth instead of lying… that it doesn’t taste good.” 

Jaehyun looked up from the chicken he was currently washing, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Your disappointment broke through your facade eventually. “The cake. It’s still there.”

With careful deliberation, Jaehyun put the meat on a cutting board and took out a knife. “Because I don’t want to share it.”

“What?”

“I can’t eat too much sugar at once. So one, at the most two, slices of cake a day does suffice. I used to grind my teeth in my sleep, so they’re very sensitive now and hurt when I eat too many sweets at once.”

“Oh, it’s like that.” You paused. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of this problem…” Again, it dawned on you that you knew absolutely nothing about Jaehyun. If you had known he wasn’t able to eat an entire cake within a few days, then you would have brought something else. “But you’ve had enough visitors over the past couple of days to share it with them, you don’t have to trudge through eating it to the last bites, you know.”

“But I want to!” he then defended himself and turned around to you. “I want to eat it all by myself, I don’t want to share it with anyone else what you’ve made only for me.”

This was not a joke, nor a mocking comment. He meant it in all honesty. You just had no idea why. 

“Okay.” You closed the door to the fridge with the vegetables in your hand now. “I’ll help you cut the ingredients. But we should probably hurry before your visitor comes, right?”

You didn’t want to sound mean by mentioning this topic, but the syllables fell from your lips much sharper than you had intended. It was none of your business anyway, but as you took the leek into your hands, you realized that you couldn’t help but to be curious about his lifestyle.

He shrugged. “It’s still a few hours, we’ll be fine.”

“But every night a different woman? Why don’t you get a girlfriend? Don’t misunderstand me, I just genuinely want to know.”

Jaehyun didn’t even bother thinking about coming up with a morally right answer. “I did have a girlfriend.”

“And?”

“It sucked.”

“Then you just didn’t have the right girlfriend for you.”

“We were together for three years,” he clarified and proceeded to cut the chicken while you did the same with the leek.

“Did she cheat on you?” 

“No. She stole all my money, lied about it and disappeared from my life from one day to another.”

“Holy-” You swallowed the rest of the sentence, your cutting hand now pausing too.

“My parents weren’t very fond of her from the beginning and told me to cut ties with her as she wasn’t the ideal daughter-in-law for them anyway. But I was a rebel and wanted to date whoever I wanted just because I could. She only used me as a money machine, and everyone knew - except for me as I was in denial. The me back then was so blind and so in love. I did everything for her, and in the end, I was left alone, robbed of my money and unfavored by my parents.”

You didn’t know what to say as you hadn’t expected such an honest conversation with him. The tough and cool Jaehyun had been through some miserable phases indeed, and you somehow regretted not having asked about it much earlier. 

“Jaehy-”

“It’s okay.” He brushed it off and put the sliced chicken in the pan. “Not all women are bad, I just need to pick better. Next time, I need to be a hundred percent sure she’ll be my future wife.”

“It’s odd hearing these words from a university student.”

“Why?”

“Nowadays, from my own dating experience, I can say that marriage or children are not one of the top priorities for many people wanting to enter a relationship anymore. They struggle a lot with these nowadays for so many reasons, most of which are valid, like money and economics. So I’m positively surprised to hear you’re not one of them and actually want to marry out of love.”

“Do you want to marry one day?”

This question took you aback. “Yes, for the same reason as you, actually.”

“Mhhmm. And do you believe there is someone out there for you?”

“Yes, I honestly believe it. When there is you and me already, here in this very room, then there are also more people with the same mindset out there in the world. I’m sure, there are many women who have so much genuine love to give to a man like you, even when you’re still so young.”

“A man like me?” You now made eye contact. “What do you mean a man like me?”

You averted your eyes again as you started to list while finishing cutting the leek, “You’re caring, because when we were standing outside on the night of the fire alarm, you noticed that my feet were freezing. You gave me your shoes to wear even when that meant you needed to freeze yourself. And I was so mean to you that night. You’re helpful, because you come to every single festival preparation date and support everyone wherever they need a helping hand, kids and adults equally. And not a single complaint comes out of your mouth. You’re intelligent, because even if you need my help to understand a subject, you’re quick to solve every answer in your very own way. On top of that, you volunteered to play the part of my fake financé. And to this day, I still don’t know why.”

Jaehyun was about to turn on the stove, but then stalled, looking at you partially confused, partially what you somewhat interpreted as… touched? His features then softened and he was moved by your words, you clearly saw it in his eyes.  

“Look at you, Miss Neighbor. Not knowing what you’re blabbering again.”

You cracked a smile and put the leek in the pan with the chicken. “It’s just the truth.”

“I help you out, because you’re a good person who is being treated unfairly. Is that so hard to believe?”

After how you had acted in his presence before all this? It was very hard to believe. 

“So you think it’s better if I stay in my old position and choose the conventional, non-scheming way?”

“I’ve seen you around the children. I think you’re too good of a teacher to waste your potential on insufferable parents who are too stuck up to question their own values.”

After this short time only, he had seen through this all, and was holding such a high opinion of you?

As you continued preparing dinner right here in room 803, of which you had never imagined setting a foot in, you came to the truthful realization that your neighbor was not resentful towards your behavior from the beginning anymore. 

Then, you started to forgive yourself as well. 

This dinner had been an invitation to do exactly that, and you were grateful for it.

____

“My, my… hello, miss!”

You turned around and encountered Mrs. Nam, Soah’s mother, approaching in your direction. Another Wednesday meant another preparation and practice evening for the kindergarten festival that was set to take place this weekend.

“Hello, Mrs. Nam.” You bowed deeply. “What brings you here?” 

“I heard my husband talk about your fiancé so fondly last time, I wanted to meet him personally since you’re going to accompany us to the getaway next weekend, right?”

“Yes, we feel so honored. What a pleasure!”

A lie. You hated this woman to the core. She didn’t care much about Soah, but more about her reputation and appearance. Yet, she was the main investor’s wife and thus one of the people you had to convince of your capability to be her daughter’s homeroom teacher.

“I'm going to introduce myself,” she declared and strutted away.

Jaehyun was currently sitting in a circle with several kids, helping them prepare their costumes with a glue gun. The kids were talking excitedly to him, interacting with him and laughing along with him. The scene warmed your heart and you smiled the longer you observed them. Jaehyun was so popular and got along so well with them. 

“Miss!” Little Soah stood in front of you. “Look what Mr. Jeong made for me!” She raised her arms and presented a golden crown to you, adorned with pink plastic jewels. “He helped me glue the jewels on. Now I’m a true princess, right?”

You smiled and patted her back. “Yes, you truly are! Here, let me help you put it on.” You got on your knees and settled the crown on her head. “All good now.”

“Miss, when you’ve married Mr. Jeong, are you Mrs. Jeong then? Should we then address you as such?”

“I guess so,” you laughed. 

You weren’t worried about the rest, because you were going to break this fake engagement off anyway. But somehow, her question had caused a lump to build in your throat that you weren’t able to swallow down. 

“Then I’m happy,” Soah beamed through her missing front teeth, “because I like him very much!”

With jumpy steps, she hopped away in her crown as your own expression fell. That was something you hadn’t thought about before. The fact that the kids could get attached to Jaehyun. Or the other way around. Eventually, you would need to break their world apart and rob them of a person they had gotten emotionally attached to. But that was life, wasn’t it?

“Everything alright?” You got stunned as Jaehyun suddenly appeared next to you. “You’ve been standing like this, totally motionless, for a solid minute.”

You nodded. “Have you talked to Soah’s mother?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “A very annoying woman.”

“Right?!” you whispered to him with a giggle, relieved he shared your opinion. 

“And she totally has the hots for me,” Jaehyun mentioned almost nonchalantly as he made his way to the stage.

“Wha-” You quickly fell into his step. “What are you saying?!”

“That she wants to rip off my clothes and take me right here and now. That she wants me to bend her over one of these small tables and make her scream in pleasure. That she-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you stopped him and feigned choking noises. “She favors you. It’s nothing surprising, honestly. She apparently has a weak spot for younger men and even teachers here. It’s an open secret she stays married to Mr. Nam for the sake of their business, and it’s also an open secret that some men here, teachers and parents equally, have fallen for her charms already.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Charms… Exactly.”

At the same moment, you lifted your finger. “Don’t you dare! I swear, Jaehyun, you’re involved here to help me with my promotion, not cause havoc. Stay as far away from my childrens’ parents as possible!”

Jaehyun stopped in his tracks, lifting his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I get it. Don’t worry! She’s annoying and not my type either way.”

“Because she’s much older than you, hm?” 

Somehow, this assumption put you at ease, but not fully. Because, in the end, you were five years older than Jaehyun as well. You weren’t quite able to wrap your head around the reason as to why this even bothered you in the first place. 

“No,” he denied. “I don’t mind age. Neither do I mind education or status, despite my parents saying so. I embrace smartness, wittiness and the gift to enrich my life.”

“And the girls you bring home are none of that?” It was supposed to be a tease, but your curiosity for an answer dominated the entire question. 

He laughed, scarcely and briefly. “Hell, no!”

“I see.” This was a response you could live with very well, along with the statement that he didn’t mind an age gap. 

“But this Mrs. Nam…” Jaehyun lowered his voice. “She’s neither of those qualities that I’m looking for. She’s only a shell with no personality who’s been living in her husband’s shadow and seeks quick affairs for validation.”

You were quite flabbergasted, because his judgment seemed totally on point. “Well, you nailed it.”

He smiled smugly. “You said I’m smart after all.”

You playfully slapped his arm. “This again?” 

“Nevertheless,” Jaehyun continued, “you’re all that, Miss Neighbor.”

You frowned. “All what?”

“Smart. Witty. And an enrichment to my life.”

With these words, he jumped on the stage where the children already came running towards him.

And you were left behind with hot ears and a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

____

As you had expected, the school festival turned out to be a success, and with as many parents attending as possible, you had been able to introduce Jaehyun as your fiancé to everyone who was interested in finding out who that young man was, supporting and playing with their children.

It had warmed your heart, seeing how they all got along so well with Jaehyun that, the further the day had progressed, the warmth had turned into a stingy ache. The sheer fear that probably, you would never find someone like him again to replace the hole that he would most certainly leave when you had to call this entire thing off.

After all, this was only a pretense. 

Wasn’t it?

____

The weekend after the festival, you drove all the way out to the countryside to spend two days in the Nam family’s second residence. Jaehyun had apparently rented a car and he was a naturally good driver, you had to admit. 

The family’s holiday home consisted of three big houses in different sizes that were all connected to each other and formed a huge residence, surrounded by many acres of nature. There was a tennis court, a pool, a festive terrace, and even a few horses grazing in the fields. The residence overall looked both spectacular and intimidating to you, who had never set foot into such a habitation ever before.

“This is your room,” the housekeeper announced to you and Jaehyun when she opened the door.

You swallowed, hard. This was a fact that had totally passed by you. The room where you were supposed to spend the night only had one bed. No couch, no canopy, nothing else to lie down on except for this one bed. 

“Thank you very much,” Jaehyun said gratefully, not having lost a single ounce of his composure in comparison to you who was still too stunned to speak. 

He led you into the room and closed the door behind him, dropping your two bags on the floor. It was a nice room that, apart from the queen size bed, had a balcony and huge windows where the sunlight was able to stream in. 

“You brought your tennis clothes, right?” Jaehyun asked, and at that moment, you were quite relieved he hadn’t encountered your sleeping arrangement problems yet or chose to purposefully ignore it. Either of it was fine for you as for now, there was another hurdle to master before this day would end: lunch, followed by tennis with the Nams, and then dinner.

“Yes, I just haven’t expected that you would be able to play.”

He snickered. “Oh, you would be surprised about many of my skills.”

“Ew, if this means what I think it means, stop it!”

“Come on, did you always have this huge stick up your-”

You lifted one finger to silent him. “Don’t say it out loud!”

“Fine,” Jaehyun gave in and shrugged. “But try loosening up every now and then, even when you’re in teacher mode. I tell you, life is much more fun like that.”

You decided to ignore him and circled the bed that was somehow ironically the center of the entire room. You then seated yourself on one side of the bed where you dumped your bag on your lap and started unpacking. 

“I’m sleeping on this side and you on the other. You're gonna stay as far away from me as possible and we’ll build a wall of pillows. If I catch you breaking through the barrier at any point during the night, I’ll kick you.”

“I promise, I won’t touch you.” And then, he added sneakily, “Unless you say so, of course.”

Luckily, he couldn’t see your face as you arose and put your clothes in the closet. 

Your cheeks were so heated.

____

Lunch went by fast with you not having to interact with the Nams much as you had eaten at another table. But you were able to connect with a few other parents whose favor you had won very easily - mostly thanks to Jaehyun who was perfect in his role and did most of the chit chat himself. You didn’t complain, it played all too well into your cards as smalltalk wasn’t your strongest character trait anyway. 

Jaehyun nailed the late-twenties COO scheme like he was living it in reality. It was insane how well he knew about almost everyone’s work environment as though he had indeed already graduated years ago and could keep up with the other guests in regards to business talk. He seemed well-educated, eloquent and charming. He was perfect in his role.

"We’re doing well, but I feel like we could improve our international growth a bit,” one man on your table, also the parent of a child enrolled in your kindergarten, pointed out. “The European market is proving to be a bit more complex than anticipated."

"I hear you,” Jaehyun acknowledged. “Expanding into Europe can definitely be tricky. It’s a diverse market with varying regulatory environments, consumer preferences, and competitive landscapes.”

“What’s been your experience so far in terms of the challenges?” the man asked back. “Have you already tested the waters?”

You inhaled sharply. How was Jaehyun supposed to answer that? 

“Yes, we did,” he replied almost nonchalantly though and sipped at his water glass. “Is it more about local market adaptation, or are there specific operational or regulatory hurdles that are slowing things down for you? Personally, I can tell-”

It was unbelievable. But you were not complaining and just let him do his job while you shifted your attention to the women at the table. One of them was the business man’s wife who had just asked about the European market, and thus a parent of the child attending your kindergarten as well.

“I heard that you were very popular among the children, miss,” she told you with a smile that didn’t seem quite sincere. 

Perhaps you were just paranoid, but you believed that by now, working among mischievous children for years already, you were able to tell the difference. With another two women turning their attention towards you, you felt like you had been thrown right into a shark tank, and your lifeline in the form of your fake fiancé was in no sight but caught up with the European business market. 

“I heard so too, miss,” one of the other women chimed in. “Tell us, what makes you so different from other teachers? One would guess you aren’t strict enough.”

There it was, the flash of guile that nearly simultaneously was visible in all the women’s eyes for not even the blink of a second, yet it hadn’t passed by you. You weren’t determined to let these hyenas eat you up alive, you had worked too hard to come this far just to let mean girls make you give up.

“I believe I strike the perfect balance between kindness and strictness,” you explained with a calm voice, but under the table, you were nervously kneading your sweaty fingers. “Every child knows they can always come to me, be it for struggles concerning their school experience or personal ones.”

Instantly, the eyebrows of the student’s mother raised up. “Personal struggles?” she nearly squealed, but the loudness luckily got drowned out by the heated business talk of the men at the same table. 

“Does this mean you’re asking them about personal things?” the second woman pressed the topic.

Now, you furrowed yourself. What were they on? “What I mean by it is that if my students ever encounter problems of any kind that they cannot share with anyone else at that moment, my door is always open for them, and they know it.”

“For me,” the third woman intercepted, “it sounds like you’re more of a friend than a teacher.”

“Respectfully, that’s not what I said, and I apologize if I delivered the message wrongly. But-”

“Oh.” They looked at each other meaningfully and let you become quiet before the first woman picked up the conversation again. “Are you saying we are too uneducated to get the gist of your sentences?”

You were completely flabbergasted. You had already gotten to know many parents, but always in a safe environment and in the presence of other teachers where they had never acted like this in any scenario possible. Was this how the parents treated the teachers in private? Was this the environment the children grew up in and you would need to deal with on a daily basis when you got the promotion?

While you were still in your thoughts and preparing a reply in your head that didn’t consist of any curse word, you suddenly felt a warm hand wrapping around yours under the table and giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

“What my fiancée wants to say,” Jaehyun interrupted confidently, but politely, “is that with the educational environment given nowadays, teachers are trained to be strict and rule with an iron fist. They are pressured to push their students towards the top regardless of their feelings and needs. Thus, the children feel pressured themselves and rarely have no authority person they can turn to.” You halted your breath, and the women apparently did as well as they looked at Jaehyun with shock over his provoking words. He was harshly criticizing the entire education system for which, to a huge part, the parents were responsible for as well. “Under these circumstances, they really appreciate a teacher like my fiancée, who does not only make sure that every child reaches its full potential at this young age, but she also gives them the feeling that not all teachers only care for their success, but also for their personal wellbeing. And if this is not a trait that more teachers need to have nowadays, then I don’t know what is. I think your children are very lucky to have a teacher with a strong message like my fiancée.”

The entire table had quiet down at this point to listen to Jaehyun’s words who still had not let go of your hand. He was right, to a hundred percent, but speaking these words out among these people was like an invitation to get you fired on the spot. 

“I agree with Mr. Jeong,” a female voice behind you then said, and as you shifted around, you spotted Mr. and Mrs. Nam standing right behind you. “His fiancée teaches my daughter Soah and not only does she get the best grades, but she’s also very happy with her teacher. I think we need more teachers like her.”

This was a support you had never expected of ever receiving. From them? And then, the men at your table, followed by the women, agreed with the Nams vocally. Was it really that easy, would they go with everything this married couple wanted just to stay in this circle? It was an interesting observation. 

But then, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Nam who stared at Jaehyun, and then everything fell into place. 

Well, if it helped with your promotion, then you would let her look at him as long as she wanted. 

As long as he only looked at you and held only your hand, just like now.

____

“Ouch.”

“I thought you were able to play tennis?” Jaehyun asked as he carried you up the stairs in a piggy-back. “I didn't expect you to trip and fall all within the first fifteen minutes.”

Even though you weren’t able to see his expression, you felt that he had to clearly suppress a laugh right now. “Be quiet, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

“Ah, did someone maybe sugarcoat their skills a bit too much? To your luck, the Nams were just as shocked and cared more about your wellbeing than your lack of skills, so all’s good. I believe they found it rather endearing.”

You grumbled and lowered your head, resting it on his shoulder. Jaehyun had regularly only worn loungewear, so you had never quite made out the shape of his body. Or you had never been particularly interested in it. But now that you were being carried on his back, you couldn’t help but feel his strong muscles tense beneath your body, lifting you like you weighed nothing for him. 

It was true. You had only taken three tennis lessons and had then dropped it for the lack of time and motivation. But since this had been not too long ago, you had thought the experience would suffice. You had been so, so wrong though. Mr. and Mrs. Nam were immaculate and Jaehyun didn’t fall short on them.

Was there something he did not master?

“Who are you even?” you asked Jaehyun when you were finally through your room’s door. He placed you on the bed where he inspected the wounds on both your knees. “Honestly, Jaehyun. It’s like you’re not only blending in, you’re really… living this role.”

Jaehyun approached the door to leave again and get a first aid kit, but not without pivoting back to you one more time and saying with a meaningful and nearly reproachful tone, “You still haven’t cared enough to get to know me on a deeper level, right? All you wanted to know so far was about women, not me as a person. You’d wonder how easy it is to find information about my family online if only you know enough.”

And with that, he left you alone in your room with not only scraped and bleeding knees, but a heart that slowly started hurting nearly just as much.

It was true. You had been too busy with preparations for the upcoming events, pulling through your scheme and working towards a potential promotion, that you had not once put a single thought into Jaehyun as a person. You had wondered at times, but had never really made the effort.

Wasn’t that what he had preached about you earlier? That you were so open-minded, the children could always come to you? So why did you lack this skill when it came down to your personal life? That was probably also very much the reason you barely had friends left anymore. Too selfish, too focused on your career and only using people for the sake of your own benefit. Like Jaehyun.

But you didn’t want to continue with this behaviour anymore and eventually become like the parents here, so bigoted, condemning and toxic. You couldn’t let that happen to yourself.

So you did what Jaehyun had wanted you to do all this time: You just looked up his name online.

… And stared at him with your mouth agape when he returned to the room with the first aid kit. 

He stood by the door, unsure how to proceed. “So, you know.”

You threw your phone on the bed and folded your arms across your chest. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Well, did you ever ask?” His gaze was sharp, but he didn’t seem reproachful anymore as he had most likely caught on the deep regret reflected in your eyes. “All you ever did was assume based on what you’ve seen or heard in some cases. Assuming I was some lazy student with nothing in my mind except for women. There were enough hints given by me for you to look through this facade. But you never cared in the first place.”

That was true, but it was also part of your job. Children were more likely to never tell you what was going on in their lives, so you had to be really attentive as a teacher. Most of the time, you were right about their current feelings, especially the struggles, despite them not talking about it. 

This skill apparently didn’t apply to adults as you had gotten proven wrong several times today already. Adults were way smarter in hiding who they truly were, only revealing what they wanted others to see. Jaehyun was the perfect example.

“I’m sorry.” Your head dropped and you only heard how Jaehyun shifted in his position, followed by his footsteps approaching you. 

He then knelt in front of you and opened the first aid kit as he started talking, “The corporation is my parents’ business, I have nothing to do with it and don’t want anything to do with it.”

“All this time, I thought it was just a company that you’ve made up yourself when you talked to the businessmen during lunch.”

“Of course my position was made up, and it won’t take them too long to find out that a certain Mr. Jeong, who coincidentally holds the same last name as its CEO, is indeed not a COO, but an entirely different man.” He took out some disinfectant that he then sprayed on your hurt knees. You inhaled sharply and under much pain, but were determined not to make a sound. “I’ve grown up in this business environment, so naturally I’m very conversational in this matter if you had wondered about that. I just know a lot of business chit chat to make them keep talking, nothing that needs too much deep dive into a topic. I also took tennis classes when I was younger and the car we came here with? That’s also mine.”

You gulped. You had not even asked about the car at all. All that you had been doing was assuming and assuming and assuming. You had pegged him as a lousy student from the very beginning, and not once had it crossed your mind to ask him about anything. 

All you ever had to do was ask, and he would have replied in all honesty - just like now.

“You said you wanted nothing to do with your parents’ business,” you repeated his words when he gently patted your knees with a clean cloth. “Why?”

“Currently, I’m still under my parents’ guard and sadly also financially bound to them. I didn’t have another choice after what happened with my ex, even though I really despise my current situation. I was lucky enough that they didn’t cut off my financial support altogether, otherwise I couldn’t study at all. But at least I can live alone and thus can taste a bit of freedom and independence. They expect me to join their business after my graduation, even though I refused so many times already.”

“What do you want to do then?” You were genuinely curious now. “If not joining their business?”

“Start my own business.” He then pulled out a long string of band aid and cut respective pieces from it, two in the sizes of your injuries. “I was able to enroll in this top university with a promise to my parents that I will join them after my graduation. Hell will break loose when I come forward with the truth though, but I will pay it all back to them. That is why I’m now saving up as much money as possible to be independent after my studies. There are so many varieties of fields business management is useful for.”

Gently, Jaehyun put a bandaid on your injury, one on each side. His touch was so tender, almost feathery-light, and you shuddered comfortably. “What kind of business do you have in mind?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I will eventually find out. After my graduation, I want to travel around first and go to Europe, see a little bit of the world. And then it will all fall into place, I’m positive about that. If anything, I don’t want to be dependent on my parents anymore and follow in their footsteps. I want to be my own person, I need to be.”

“The bleached hair… the women… when you only hung around in joggers… Was that some kind of rebellion?” A glimpse into a life he had never been fully able to live out under his parents’ guard. A bit of fun.

“Let’s say I got raised very strictly by my parents, just like the children in your kindergarten, so I can very much relate.” That was why he could grasp exactly how the parents and children felt. He had grown up in this exact environment. It all made sense now. “My mother nearly fell off the chair when she saw that I’ve bleached my hair and wanted to send me to a hairdresser right away. My father stopped bothering me about joining business meetings. It worked all to my favor. It’s not that I’m not grateful that they still help me out, they just haven’t learned to respect my own wishes. Maybe one day, when I’m successful too, they’ll eventually understand.”

“So, why did you agree on doing this with me then?” you wanted to know when Jaehyun put the utensils back in the kit. “Just to practice your skills for the future? For the connection? Because I don’t believe you need that much tutoring after hearing all this. Or was it solely for fun?”

“Perhaps,” he interrupted hesitantly, “I just wanted to help my Miss Neighbor when she needed someone without asking for anything in return, because nobody ever helped me. Is that too far off when I need to answer this question again? Does it not fit your narrative?”

Nobody ever helped him? Ouch.

So people could really be selfless. People like Jaehyun.

Even though you were older, you were still able to learn so much from him.

“You don’t fit my narrative at all,” you reluctantly confessed. “But I am willing to change it.”

He lifted his head to face you and smiled in agreement. “There you go, all good now.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you too.”

“So, Europe,” you picked up the topic again, swung your legs onto the bed and leaned back into the pillows. “Which countries excite you the most?”

That afternoon, you learned that Jaehyun had never been outside of the country, which really shocked you considering how wealthy his family was. But you also learned that, as the only son of successful business people, there had never been more to his world than his parents’ own little world. They had offered to send him abroad to study, but he had declined as he had never been on his own and got cold feet. Something he deeply regretted now.

You realized that Jaehyun had been living under the pressure and expectations of his strict parents all along and was only now slowly discovering the world. The fact that he fully went out in university, additionally with another woman by his side almost every night, was a response to his upbringing. You had studied this in your major.

It was the mere acts of a boy who had only discovered freedom, as he should.

“Living on my own was already a huge step towards independence. I can’t wait to see more of the world,” he elaborated, sitting on your bedside now. “Have you already been somewhere out of the country?”

“Japan and Vietnam, yes,” you replied and yawned. “But that was a long time ago, even before I studied.”

“You’ve never been to Europe either?” You shook your head. “Then you should consider coming with me.”

“I’ll probably be a teacher soon, Jaehyun. Even now, I hardly get any time off, so sadly, I won’t be able to do that. But it’s nice to dream about it. Maybe in the future it will be possible.”

“Hm.” He arose from the mattress and suggested, “You seem tired, how about you take a short nap until dinner? I’ll wake you up then.”

“Oh, that would be nice.” You yawned again. “But what are you going to do until then?”

“Making sure you'll get that job you really want.”

He was fascinating you more and more with each bypassing day.

____

During dinner, you were seated at the Nams’ table, exactly at the opposite of the married couple. You didn’t miss the fact that Mrs. Nam seemed to be in really high spirits, and she and her husband had asked about your wellbeing more than once.

“Tell us, Mr. Jeong, how did you meet your fiancée?” Mr. Nam eventually wanted to know from Jaehyun. 

You had prepared yourselves for this, you had made up an entire story about your first meeting with all the details someone could be curious about, and the rest you would just improvise. Jaehyun was supposed to say that you had met in university since you had both aged him up to fit the storyline.

“We first met when she moved into the apartment next to mine.”

Thank god you were already done with the main course, because you were sure you would have choked on your grilled beef they had served earlier.

“It was early in the morning, just a few days after she moved in. She was in a rush and I had just come back from an all nighter at the library. It was exam time and I suppose she was also in a hurry because of these circumstances.”

At least Jaehyun stayed true to the fake story by making you both university students. But what was he up to, why didn’t he follow your plan in all details? 

You desperately tried to lock eyes with him to give him some kind of signal to stop this, but he ignored you on purpose and just smiled at the guests while telling the story. Though he reached his hand out to your lap, searched for your fingers and embraced them as though in reassurance. Reassurance about what when he was not acting according to the plan at all?

“I was in the lobby, about to get on the elevator when the doors opened and a young woman stormed out of it. She had her bag in one hand, books and her jacket in the other, as well as a cup of coffee balancing on her fingers. She unsuccessfully tried to close the lid with the hand that was holding her bag.”

Wait… 

This was not a made up story. You vaguely remembered being in such a situation shortly after you had moved in. Instead of running late to university, you were running late to work, because you had calculated the commute time wrongly from this part of the city, even though it was closer to the kindergarten. You had successfully wiped this memory out of your mind, for the reason of…

“She was so caught up with her stuff that she didn’t see me and just stormed out of the elevator as soon as the door opened,” Jaehyun continued and earned a few giggles from the listeners. “She bumped right into me and the next moment, I had her coffee all over my shirt.”

… for this exact reason. It was too embarrassing to be kept as a memory. And the guy from that fateful having turned out to be Jaehyun himself was the cherry on top. Why had he never said a word about this incident?

Your embarrassment visibly showed on your cheeks as their color changed, gaining you a few amiable gazes from the guests. 

“She barely looked up as she apologized and tried to drop all her things to clean up the mess.”

“But I didn’t,” you remembered, speaking out loudly, “because you said I should hurry up and go to wherever I needed to go right now, and then cleaned everything up yourself.”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun laughed and a few joined. “You apologized three times and ran out, and I cleaned up the mess with the help of the lobbyist. I knew someone in such a haste had to be somewhere important early in the morning, and I didn’t want to be a hindrance to that, even though I didn’t know you yet.”

A few women at the table let out an “awww”, Mrs. Nam being one of them. 

Now, Jaehyun turned to you and met your confused face with a confident expression of his own. “I had barely looked up,” you added, “because I was too embarrassed, so I couldn’t remember your face. I was just hoping that I would never meet that person again, whoever it might have been.”

Jaehyun addressed the guests and declared, “Fate was not on her side when it turned out to be her next-door-neighbor. Luckily for her, I never mentioned it.”

Laughers from all sides now and you had a hard time keeping your mouth closed that was constantly on the verge of falling agape at this story. You had had no idea.

“Why not?” you then pressed the topic, your role threatening to crumble as you quickly filled in, “I think everyone here is curious as to why you have never told me until we got together.”

“Because I knew how hard working and busy you always were.” You returned to looking at each other, now unsure whether he spoke through his role or spoke as Jaehyun himself. “And I didn’t want to teeter your attention and let our first meeting get overshadowed by an embarrassing moment for you that might bear negative echoes. From that day on though, I was determined to win you over another way and kept this story a secret for later on. I just haven’t expected how difficult that would be.”

“A real gentleman,” a woman commented and she gently nudged her husband in the side.

“For two months, I was trying so many things to get her attention. But it turned out to be rather challenging, because this woman wouldn’t look at me even once if it was not for pouring coffee all over me.” Jaehyun covered his face with the back of his hand as if shyness threatened to break through. “I held the door open for her, waited for her in the lobby, took the same elevator or coincidentally ran into her in the convenience store. All to no avail. She didn’t spare me a single glance again. Not even when my attempts went more…” He paused and withdrew his hand, letting a serious expression full of regret flash by his face before it returned to his gleeful mien, “... vocal. I think at some point, she even started resenting me. But for me, it was enough. She finally recognized me.”

You didn’t know what to feel. It was a totally new story for you, and you were so sure he had just come up with it. But on the other hand, the entire storytelling sounded too real, too full of details and emotions to have just been made up on the spot. 

And the way he looked at you while telling all that... It was a story for the public, but the way he delivered it, the way he still held your hand under the table, indicated that he was telling it to you, and only you. The entire table, even the room, didn’t exist anymore, only you two.

Your fingers started to tremble.

“So, how did you eventually win her over?” Mrs. Nam asked curiously and Jaehyun’s gaze swiftly shifted to hers before returning to you. 

“I found out she needed help with a small favor, so I offered it to her. As to not make it so obvious and awkward for her again, I feigned to not be as good at studying as I actually am and needed to get tutored by her. Otherwise she would have never accepted my help without giving anything in return, or the feeling of it. And the rest is history.”

The crowd was partially in awe and partially shocked at this bold move. You belonged to the latter. Was this still part of your scheme? Then why was he telling the story so close to the truth?

“Mr. Jeong saw what he wanted and went for it,” Mr. Nam concluded. “That’s a true businessman here.”

“How did you react?” Mrs. Nam then wanted to know from you. “Finding out he schemed his way into your heart?”

It was supposed to be a funny remark, but you were not amused by it one bit. Yet, you brought yourself to crack a smile that was far too crooked to be genuine and shook off Jaehyun’s hand from yours. 

Luckily, no one noticed. 

Except for Jaehyun himself.

“I was totally shocked,” you answered Mrs. Nam. “But it turns out his scheming abilities have become really beneficial for him as he’s always geeting what he wants, am I right?”

Everyone at the table failed to notice your disappointed tone and made the connection to Jaehyun’s business skills as they all started talking again, first complimenting his traits, then falling back into a talk about what to invest in next.

Dessert arrived the next moment, but as you looked at the Panna Cotta in front of you, you didn’t crave for it one bit anymore. In fact, you felt sick to your stomach, and Jaehyun, whose hand now was placed on your thigh in a comforting gesture to make amends, was the cause of all this.

“Excuse me,” you quietly apologized, but nobody noticed you arising from your seat and then disappearing into the hallway.

Jaehyun followed you instantly.

____

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Shut up, Jaehyun, I don’t want to hear a single word anymore!”

He was right at the other side of the door, waiting patiently while you were sitting at the other side in your room, grabbing your head in despair and trying to string together the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

“But it’s true,” he said with a softer voice now. “What more can I say for you to believe me?”

“All these women…” It just didn’t make sense in your head. “You wanted me and still were with all these women.”

“I was only with them, because I couldn’t be with you. Sometimes, I’m just… a little boy still. What else was there for me to do when the woman I love wouldn’t even look at me? I’d rather had her look at me with disgust than not looking at me at all.”

A long pause followed. 

“Yes, you’re just a little boy, Jaehyun. You’d rather trick me than tell me the truth straight up.”

“What would you have said if I had one day just appeared at your doorstep and asked you out? Me, a student, five years your junior, who cannot even compare to the men you meet every day at your job? Sometimes, I regretted wanting to go a different path than what my parents mapped out for me just so that I could keep up with them. But I thought, if you finally got to know the real me, all my other qualities, you would eventually see that I am indeed a match to them. A match for you.”

“But that is no valid reason to lie to me! First the tutoring lessons that you clearly didn’t need just to spend time with me, then…” You gasped. “Had you also lied about getting locked out on that day you appeared at the kindergarten?”

The day he had suddenly exchanged his casual clothes for decent ones and had dyed his hair back to dark. That had not been a fateful coincidence. The fact that he had come to your kindergarten on that exact day dressed like that, it had all been carefully planned.

“I knew you probably thought I wouldn’t be the right candidate for that role with my appearance back then, so I wanted to prove to you that I, indeed, was the best choice with my background, and adapted according to the circumstances. I genuinely wanted to help you, even if not for selfless purposes only. I wanted you to want me too.”

“You tricked me, you manipulated me, and you schemed all your way into my heart.”

You heard him shuffle through the door, probably as perplexed as you were as you repeated your last words in your head. Oh no. You were grateful that he let it pass by him though.

“I’m deeply sorry. I am just a boy who didn’t know how to handle his feelings and who was used to getting whatever he wanted. I think I still have a long way to go to grow up.”

You pulled your knees close to your chest and hugged your arms around your legs. “Why today? Why did you choose today to reveal everything? In front of all these people? Was it one of your schemes too?”

“Not once did I have in mind that I wanted to hurt you. I came out with my feelings today, because they were genuine, and your reaction would be genuine too. And it worked, everyone out there believed it. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Yes, this was everything that you had wanted. But why was it hurting so much then? Not only because Jaehyun had gone through all these lengths to make your dream come true, but also because you had wasted this much time together. So, so much time.

“So what if I disposed of you right after this?” Your voice sounded icier than it was supposed to, and he noticed it. “Would you have told everyone the truth out of spite?”

“After all, is that what you still think of me?” His pain was almost palpable and you regretted your question right away. Perhaps, because you wanted him to answer differently, but he replied just like you had secretly wanted him to, “If I had helped you make your dream come true, and you had still chosen them over me, then yes, I would have been very hurt. But I would have been happy for you, too. Isn’t that what love is about?”

This was probably the most mature thing he had said to you today. “And if I had chosen you?”

“After tonight, I believe that if it comes down to me and them, you would pick them.”

Was that what he was thinking of you now? Your heart ached when you asked, “Why do you think that?”

“I saw what you’re dealing with, what you try to achieve. You are too much of a hard worker to throw this all away for a normal student with no real plans, no perspective. Someone who can offer you nothing but a promise that he will work hard to help you achieve everything you want.”

A student with no perspective. Was that how Jaehyun saw himself? 

Yes, he had grown up in a business environment and surrounded by wealth, but he was an enrichment to your life without all that too, in ways your workplace and the people in it had never been. Yes, you loved your job and your students, they were the center of your world, and you were working so very hard for achievement after achievement. 

So hard that it had totally passed by you that you yourself had been the center of the world for someone, and it was actually nice to finally have a person look at you when you had only been overlooked by exactly these people before, who you were trying so hard to impress. And what for?

Jaehyun might only offer promises, but he always made sure to live up to them. Wasn’t this worth so much more?

“I’ll go downstairs again,” he then announced quietly when you didn’t say something in an uncomfortable long time. “If you don’t feel like coming, you can stay here and I’ll find an excuse, don’t worry about that.”

Your front teeth sank into your bottom lip. Jaehyun had been right. Perhaps, you would have called him an idiot for having asked you out the very first day you met. 

“Idiot!” you called out to him now for a whole other reason as you opened the door and dashed after him.

With much surprise twinkling in his eyes, you now stood in front of him and crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated. “If you believe that after everything, when it comes down between you and them, I’d pick them, then you’re an idiot. Because I’d pick you.”

Jaehyun didn’t have much time to process what you had just said as you slung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you. 

The moment you kissed Jaehyun for the very first time you realized that all of this might not have entirely been a scheme at all, from both of your sides. 

He kissed you back with much passion and fierceness, and you felt that exactly these feelings had been lingering inside of you as well.

You just weren’t sure for how long already. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

____

“Here?” you asked Jaehyun with widened eyes when you fell back on the bed.

He crawled on top of you. “Do you think I’ll wait any longer for this?”

“But everyone is still downstairs, finishing dinner.”

“Good,” he whispered and kissed your neck. “Then no one will hear us.”

You chuckled when his playful pecks turned into sensual kisses and he eventually started sucking on the sensitive skin. Goose bumps spread all over your upper body, and you couldn’t remember when you had last been with a man while Jaehyun… You balked.

Immediately, he heaved up his head, looking at you with a surprised expression. He stroked your temple. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t want to admit it. The fact that you felt intimidated by his experience despite you being older. That you felt inferior to all the women he’d ever let in his bed that were far prettier than you. Or so you thought.

But Jaehyun didn’t share your opinion when you hesitantly tried to explain your worries to him.

“You don’t have to worry about any noise coming from my apartment anymore. Because you’re the only one who’s gonna lie in my bed from now on. Okay?”

“Okay.” You giggled when he kissed your cheek. “I really like that.”

Jaehyun sat back up on his knees while suggesting you to keep laying still. He reached out his hands and unbuttoned your blouse. You helped him take off the piece of clothing by winding your body to the side for better access. He then brought his head down to the beginning of your breast and placed a light kiss on a spot that made you shudder. 

With both his pointer fingers, he then searched for the straps of your bra and pulled them aside. You wiggled your arms out of the tightness it had provided, having Jaehyun drag the underwear down enough only for your breasts to lay bare. You turned your gaze to the ceiling and hoped he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks as you weren’t quite sure what to do or how to behave anymore. 

But Jaehyun, on the contrary, knew exactly what he was doing and how to behave. He put your nipple between his lips and started sucking on it, supporting his body with one hand. A pleasurable feeling streamed through your body whenever he wetted the mound and had his teeth gently tug on it. 

With his free hand, he massaged your other breast that had still remained untouched, and the blissful feeling of being pleasured on both sides suddenly started coiling between your legs where you already felt Jaehyun growing hard in between.

“You like that?” He was suddenly up by your ear again, muttering, “By the sounds you make, I take it as a yes.”

You had made sounds? You hadn’t been aware of that, but Jaehyun seemed to enjoy it very much, judging the way he beamed at you. 

He helped you up to a seated position so that you were able to take off your bra entirely before he let you fall back onto the mattress. Jaehyun had his own shirt unbuttoned and on the floor the next moment, and you swallowed a gasp at how well built he actually was. Prominent muscles showed off abs and his arms were unexpectedly muscular. You stared at him in awe, somehow desiring to have his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Like what you see?” He flashed a grin.

Jaehyun was on his knees now, fiddling with his belt that he intended to open, but you couldn’t wait that long to finally touch him. So you arose from your position and grabbed him by his belt yourself. With one swift motion, you had him freed from this barrier, but didn’t withdraw your hands right away. Instead, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants yourself.

Jaehyun stayed patiently silent during your actions, his hand entangled in the hair at the back of your head. When you were about to drag down his pants, a huge bulge was already foreshadowing what you would find underneath. Yet, you still let out a gasp when you slid down his boxers and his cock sprang free in front of you. 

You lifted your hands, but then halted. “May I…?”

You didn’t know if asking was even necessary, but given that it was your first time with him, you wanted to be sure that he really wanted his intimate favors to be returned. 

“You may do whatever you want with it,” Jaehyun growled in anticipation of what was about to come.

You cupped his entire length with one hand and watched in amusement how his head rolled back in satisfaction. His chest irregularly lifted with each breath when you started moving your hand up and down. 

You cracked a smile, speeding up your motions that then elicited moans out of Jaehyun that he eventually successfully suppressed through gritted teeth. People were still dining downstairs, but you also didn’t want to risk being overheard. With your thumb, you slid over the tip of his dick that was already wet and sticky from his precum.

You looked up to Jaehyun who turned his gaze down to you, probably wondering why you had suddenly stopped. But then he found you looking at him with much lust, bringing your thumb to your mouth from where you then licked up all his precum.

It was one of the hottest things Jaehyun had ever seen, and he immediately brought your faces together to kiss you passionately and fiercely.

Not much later, you were laying on your back again, entirely naked this time, and Jaehyun was settled between your legs, his elbows braced against the mattress on either side of your head. He nudged you to open your thighs, and you were more than willing to finally welcome him.

Jaehyun did everything in his might to reassure you as you distorted your face at the sharp pain shooting through your lower abdomen upon him entering you with his tip. It had been a long time, so your body was not adjusted to this kind of stretching anymore, and it let you feel it. 

Jaehyun moved very slowly though, with pauses in between, until he was fully sheathed inside of you. And eventually, when he stilled to let you adapt, pain turned into the long awaited pleasure. Suddenly, him filling you out so fully was not an inconvenience anymore, but something inside you screamed for him to go deeper than that so that you would feel more of him. 

Your fingers interlaced in the back of Jaehyun’s neck and his lips came down to kiss you over and over again. He wanted to be assured that you were really okay with him continuing before he ultimately started stroking. 

It still stung when he withdrew himself. But after only two thrusts, you felt nothing anymore except for the ungraspable desire for him to push inside you again. And again. And again. Whenever he pulled out, you couldn’t bear to have him in this position for too long, because you wanted him to hit the spot he had just found. And again. And again.

“Shhhh-” Jaehyun halted and laughed quietly before kissing you. “You want everyone to hear you now?”

“Oh!” You brought your hands in front of your mouth to suffocate the moans that you apparently had let out unconsciously. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t ever be sorry. You can moan if you don’t mind them.”

But you shook your head. “I don't want them to hear, but I just can’t help it.”

Jaehyun nodded in understanding and started thrusting into you again. And again, you let out a moan despite your efforts to keep your lips sealed. You slid your arms under his and hugged his back. Simultaneously, you brought your legs up and hooked them behind him. The bed shook under you, but luckily it was not making much noise. 

Gently, you bit into Jaehyun’s shoulder to muffle your sounds, and as he didn’t react to it with a wince of pain, you got assured that it was okay for him. On the contrary, he got even braver now. Where he had seemingly been holding himself back this entire time, he was now grabbing the headboard and used it as a support to speed up his stroking game. 

He slammed into you over and over, and you were holding onto him like a lifeline now with your head buried in his chest. Your thighs tensed around his hips as you felt the pleasure that had accompanied you all throughout the act coiling up to a destructive ball between your legs. It tugged on every fiber of your body, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on it, otherwise, you thought, it would tear you apart.

“Oh, Jaehyun,” you breathed, your nails digging deep into his skin on the back. “I-”

You let out a long breath, very well aware of the fact that when the feeling finally came crashing down on you, you would be in no position to hold in the noises that would pass your lips. 

You then were petrified, eyes widening in shock when you suddenly overheard steps and noises in the hallway. People had finished dinner and were now returning to their rooms, it seemed. There was no way you could now end this with noises!

Jaehyun was very well aware of your surroundings too though, but was not determined to let anyone disrupt what he had been dreaming to do to you for months already. He nodded in silence and pressed you back down on the mattress. With his palm flat, he then covered your mouth, but made sure your nostrils were still free for you to breathe properly. You looked at him with glistening eyes, your arms now loose around his neck.

“Scream,” he summoned. “Scream all you want. I’ll make sure nobody will hear you.”

And you did. 

You screamed your heart out into his hand when you came undone beneath him, fingers scratching over his shoulders and toes curled up as your entire body convulsed. And he drowned every single sound so that nobody could hear you except for him only.

When Jaehyun let go of you with a sneaky grin, your mouth was dry and your vision blurry, but you could still watch his sweaty chest arise above you when he prepared himself for his own heights. Deep toned moans entered your ears and you smiled softly as you let him cum all inside you with a few more thrusts that eventually slowed down.

Jaehyun fell limply next to you, but, with his remaining strength, he still managed to pull you up to his chest so that you could find a comfortable spot there. It was already dark outside and you heard one door close after another, indicating that people were now ending the day.

“So, you still want to sleep with a wall of pillows between us?” Jaehyun teased and played with a strand of your hair.

You laughed when you remembered how you had initially been so worried about the one bed setup. 

Now, it was very conventional.

____

You only remembered falling asleep and dreaming soundly in Jaehyun’s arms after two more rounds of muffled screams and shaking orgasms. 

When you woke up much later, still in the middle of the night though, those arms that had held you warm were no longer wrapped around you, and your bed was missing his body.

Your first thought was that Jaehyun had fled and your heart jumped to your throat. That he had realized he didn’t want you after all and just dropped you like that. That you were, in fact, unlovable.

You slowly started to calm down again though when you saw his bag still laying where he had placed it and part of his clothes that he had worn the evening before still neatly folded on the chair in front of the dressing table. 

“Jaehyun?” you asked carefully when you got out of the bed and threw on your pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You approached the bathroom, but no light was coming from inside, indicating that no one was in there after all, and when you eventually opened the door, you found out that you had been correct. 

Where could he have disappeared to? It was so odd. 

You slid into your slippers with the intention of leaving the room as quietly as possible. You knew you could have also waited for Jaehyun to return, but something inside you wouldn’t be able to casually get back to sleep without an anxious feeling, so you needed to get rid of it in an instant and find him.

You didn’t need to look for long though. The moment you opened the door, he was already standing right in front of you, not less surprised by your sudden appearance as vice versa. 

“Where have you been?” you whispered when he closed the door behind him after stepping into the room.

With a swift motion, he held a bottle of water in front of you. “I was thirsty, so I went to get something to drink from the kitchen.”

“Oh…” You had been so anxious for nothing. 

“What?” he grinned when he went over to the table and placed the bottle on it. “You thought I sneaked out in the middle of the night?”

You shrugged and seated yourself on the bedside with a long sigh while Jaehyun opened the water bottle and drank from it. “When I woke up after my nap this afternoon, you weren’t here either. I know you went to the talk with the Nams, but…”

Jaehyun placed the bottle down again and closed the lid. “Were you afraid I had suddenly left? Or worse… that I was with another woman?”

“Well…” You averted your gaze by turning your head to the side. “You’ve been with many women after all. And I’ve always heard everything.”

Jaehyun didn’t respond until he stood in front of you and had your face cupped with his hands. “What if I tell you that throughout this childish act, there has always been just one woman I wanted to be with, and now that I have her, I don’t need anyone else anymore?”

You lowered your gaze and smiled reluctantly. Despite the darkness, you saw the entire truth flicker in his eyes and believed every word that he said. Why shouldn’t you after all? He had done all this just for you.

“I believe you.”

“Very well.” He kissed you and crawled back into the bed to where you followed him. “So, what should we do when we return home tomorrow?”

You first got on your knees and fluffed up your pillow. “What do you mean?”

Jaehyun grabbed you by your arm and pulled you towards him. The next moment, you laid with your stomach flat on top of him and he brushed through your hair, gently kissing your parting. “I don’t mean we have to get married by the time of your promotion. Yet.” You blushed, but luckily he couldn’t see. “But if you start going out with me, I’d be just as happy, Miss Neighbor.”

You braced your arms against the mattress and lifted your upper body up so that you could wind yourself and face him. “If you think I would ever give up that spot next to you on the bed now, then you’re so wrong.”

“I like the way you think.” 

A deep kiss followed, only interrupted by your muffled whimpers when he pulled down your pants and nudged hard between your legs again.

____

You had parted with the hosts on magnificent terms with Mr. Nam exclusively promising you that he would vote for you to get the job. As of this weekend, you, with the help of your fake fiancé turned real boyfriend, had proven to be the best candidate for the soon to be open position, and if anyone still thought otherwise, Mr. Nam would convince them himself. 

Mrs. Nam had only silently nodded, seeming displeased over something, but you didn’t bother too much about her mood swings since you had never liked her anyway. If you had her husband’s word, then nothing else mattered anymore.

You had one week left to prepare yourself for the meeting with the board, but since everything seemed to be home and dry, you could relax most days and spent every night at your neighbor’s over there in room 803. 

“Scream,” Jaehyun had said the first time you went next door, sitting naked on top of him with your hips locked on his. He had let his hands roam over your cheeks and squeezed tightly into the flesh. “You can scream as loud as you want here. Don’t care about the neighbors.”

And, as a matter of fact, the screams that came out of room 803 from that night on, only belonged to you.

____

“I’m very sorry to deliver this message to you, miss,” the director said, “but we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city.”

In front of you, you visibly saw your whole world shatter.

What had gone wrong? Had you not spoken to the Nams just last weekend, who had promised you that you had secured the position already and the rest were only formalities? What had happened in the past days that must have apparently changed their minds completely?

“I’m sorry, I think I might have misunderstood,” you apologized, “I assumed the parents who are also part of the investor group, for example Mr. and Mrs. Nam, also have a say in this. Do they not?”

You had already been welcomed with a dreadful feeling when you had opened the door and only found the director sitting in the room. None of the others had been present unlike the last time. Still, you had hoped that you were wrong.

“Oh, they do, miss. Actually, every parent has approved of you.”

“Then, what changed your mind?” You had a really hard time keeping your voice at a respectful level. You had done everything they had expected of you. Save from… “Is it because I’m still not married? They all know I’m engaged and they know my fiancé. I can always hand in a copy of the certificate later, but we do not have a date yet.”

“Miss…” The director lifted up his hand, smiling this time. “I said we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city. I repeat the last words: in this city.”

Your brows drew together in skepsis. “So that means…” You didn’t want to speak out loud what you were thinking as you didn’t know yet whether these were better or worse news.

“Congratulations!” The director arose from his chair, rounded the table and approached you. “We offer you the position of an elementary school teacher in one of our Shi-A schools in Busan!”

“In… Busan?”

It was odd how the city’s name was the first word that resonated in your head. Not “elementary school teacher” which even meant a significant upgrade from your current position. But the city’s name. A city on the other side of the country where you would need to move to if you accepted this position. Which meant in retrospect that you had to move out of your current apartment, away from…

“Miss?” The director looked at you curiously. “Are you not pleased about this?”

“I am!” you corrected yourself. “I am truly happy over the fact that you offer me an even higher position now.”

“Fantastic! We are aware that you will have to move then, but don’t worry about the logistics, we will provide for all expenses you need. You can start with the new semester, so there is plenty of time. Isn’t it fortunate?”

He wasn’t aware of the fact that this, indeed, was really unfortunate for you.

____

Not long after you had gotten the work contract to read through and sign until the week after that, you were standing outside of the director’s room, petrified to the core. Too many thoughts were flying into your head that you struggled with to organize. 

This was your dream. This was your dream coming true, yet…

“Not happy about your new position after all?” 

In front of you stood Mrs. Nam, arms folded across her chest, standing high on her heels. Her lips were curled up to a smile that was all too wicked and did not resemble the persona she had shown to you the majority of the past weekend. 

You were at a loss for words as you couldn’t define her expression, but she was happy enough to help you out when she explained, “In the beginning, I fancied your fiancé very much. I thought he wouldn’t say no to a bit of fun with me. Nobody ever had. Until then. Or should I better say… fake fiancé?” Your mouth fell agape, but you were quick to close it with a hard swallow. “Yes, my chin also dropped when I overheard your little conversation after dinner.”

“Let me ex-”

But she only lifted her hand to gesture to you to stop speaking. Her nostrils flared, anger clearly mirrored in her eyes. “After our tennis match, before I found out the truth between you two, I met with him and suggested that he would come to me during nighttime. I had so much fun watching you being all giddy during dinner, knowing that once you’d be asleep, he’d slip into my bed.”

You needed a moment to process everything she had said. When you had been asleep, Jaehyun had met with Mrs. Nam who had then offered him a place in her bed? You were furious. A married woman making advances on a taken man… you had heard about her reputation among the childrens’ mothers, but never had you thought that one day, you would become her victim too. 

But more so… Another thought suddenly cut off the air in your lungs. “Jaehyun has not declined?”

Her eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t declined.” Your heart dropped. “When we met during the night, I didn’t mention what I found out. I didn’t care if it meant I could see him more often. But he had recorded the entire conversation and then dared to blackmail me. That bastard had followed his own plan all along. He told me that if you wouldn’t get this position without him needing to share my bed, then he’d play it to my husband, to the entire board and the school if necessary. I told him that if he did that, I would tell everyone you weren’t even together. Unfortunately for me, unlike him, I didn’t have any proof.”

Suddenly, you felt like you could breathe again. Jaehyun hadn’t declined her invitation, because he had his own scheme mapped out and wanted to help you all along.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” you asked sharply. “Luring taken men into your bed as a married woman?”

She raised one brow in questioning. “As far as I know, he hasn’t been taken at that time, am I right?” Unfortunately, she was, but you kept quiet. “The men I’ve been with have never once been happy in their marriage or have drifted apart from their partner already. At best, they already had affairs going on. The only mistake I made this time was choosing someone who I thought was a naive kid. My fault.”

“Is that why you’re sending me away? To get revenge on him for doing what was right and not betraying me?”

Mrs. Nam slowly moved her head from one side to the other. “I’m not sending you away, otherwise my husband would start questioning. I’m giving you a choice. Either stay here in your old position or move to chase after a more glorious future. After all, that’s what you want, right? The lengths you’re going through to get what you want? What’s making you so different from me, then?”

She had thrown the truth over you like a bucket of ice cold water. You had lied your way into the promotion and dragged Jaehyun along with you in the process. Were you really different from them? It was written all over your face, apparently.

“Exactly.” Mrs. Nam grinned. “You remind me of me when I was younger. I also wanted power and wealth, and eventually got trapped in a loveless marriage. I’m not heartless, miss. After all, it only takes me a few phone calls to ruin your fake fiancé and everyone related to him. His little audio has nothing on my power.”

“Then why?” The contract was rattling in your shaking hands. “Why give me a choice in the first place and not fire me on the spot?”

“My daughter adores you very much, she talks about you every day.” A flash of regret passed over her face, but before you could catch the entire meaning of it, it had already vanished. Perhaps, she cared more about her daughter than she had let seen past, but failed to show it. “Back in the days, I made the wrong decision on what to choose. Perhaps, I hope, you’re going to make the right one.” She turned on her heels and lifted up her hand as though she wanted to bid farewell to you. “I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

The contract was still shaking in your hand long after she had left.

____

When you walked into Jaehyun’s apartment later that day, your face was still like stone, the contract also still in your hands. 

On your entire way back home, you had read through each paragraph over and over again. It sounded too good to be true. Nearly the double amount of salary, more days off during vacation and your own assistant teacher. You were offered to teach the first two years of elementary school and if necessary, they would even provide housing for the first three months.

This was everything you’d ever worked hard for and dreamt of. 

“I got offered the position of an elementary school teacher from next semester on,” you declared nearly absent-mindedly as you sank down on the couch and handed him over the contract. 

“Congratulations!” Jaehyun wore a solemn expression on his face when he flopped down on the cushion next to you. “You want to celebrate?”

His happiness pulled you out of your thoughts and you faced him with an agonized expression. “There is nothing to celebrate about this, Jaehyun! The position is in Busan! That’s on the other side of the country!”

“Okay calm down…” When you made attempts to arise, he touched your upper arm and indicated to you to stay seated. “I know where Busan is. That’s no problem. I’ll just go with you, because I’ll finish university in two months anyway. And after that…”

You cracked a pained smile. “After that you want to go to Europe.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need to go to Europe. I can go with you and find a job there.”

“And not living your dream? What you have worked so hard towards after you helped me achieve everything that I wanted? You want to drop that?”

He looked at you like you had just uttered the most ridiculous question someone could ask. “You’re more important to me than that dream.”

“Was that what you also thought when you blackmailed Mrs. Nam?”

Jaehyun drew in a sharp breath. “So you know.”

“You lied to me again!” you yelled. “When will you ever stop lying to me about serious stuff, Jaehyun?”

“I was about to tell you as soon as I knew about the offer, when your position was secured! I saw the chance and I took it! What did she tell you?”

You told him about your encounter with the parent and had arisen from your seated position by the time you finished, walking around the living room in nervous circles now. 

“She didn’t just suggest it,” Jaehyun opposed. “She told me, for you to get this position, I’d need to sleep with her, otherwise she would tell her husband what a bad teacher you are. And I was absolutely not going to do it, so I thought if she dared to blackmail me, I could do the same and pretend to be interested just to let it all blow into her face. What would you have done if you knew? There was absolutely nothing you could have done! I turned the situation to your advantage!”

“She could have come forward with the entire truth! She could have gotten me fired and your true identity revealed!” You came to a halt in front of him on the couch and he took your hand into his, trying to calm you down. “Do you know what that could have meant? If you had informed me, we could have tried to figure it out together!”

“And then for you to resent them and quit what you were working so hard for? I was not about to risk that! I was only acting in your best interest.”

You wiggled your hands out of his and shifted around, away from him. “You put both of our futures at risk by doing that, Jaehyun! What if exactly the opposite had happened? What then? Would you have taken responsibility for it?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time and you braced your hands against the table, losing a long breath. 

“I just… I just wanted to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help! I never had! Look at what happened!”

You were just so, so frustrated. You had only gotten this offer, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only been invited to the getaway weekend, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only fallen into the parents’ favors, because Jaehyun had interfered. 

Had you achieved all this without him as well? Something inside you was assured that you wouldn’t have.

And you resented him for that.

“In the end, you’ve ruined everything I’ve planned and worked so hard for! Had you not come into the picture at all, then I would have gained their favors myself! After I’ve gotten the offer, I would have announced my separation and everything would have been fine!”

Suddenly, Jaehyun was behind you, turning you around by your shoulders. “You know that’s not true,” he said calmly. “I know how these people are, and you now know too. It wouldn’t have worked.”

Yes, you knew. That was why your resentment was so strong. Everything you had ‘achieved’ was ‘achieved’ through a man, with the help of a man. Even the board had only consisted of men, and in the end, Mr. Nam had given you his permission after having bonded with Jaehyun, not yourself. 

This was not entirely your own achievement. Everything you had worked so hard for, was in vain in the end, because Jaehyun had only needed to do a bit of small talk, play with his charms, and they were butter in his hands.

Yet, it still hadn’t all worked out in your favor.

“I also have the option to stay, but only in my old position.” 

“As I said,” Jaehyun interrupted you with a gentle voice, “I’ll go wherever you go.”

But you weren’t sure whether you wanted this.

You moved past him and grabbed your purse from the couch. “I need time to think.”

When you walked out of Jaehyun’s apartment, you found two neighbors in the hallway, talking to each other. 

One of them was Mrs. Choi and the other person was the neighbor with the dog. They were trying hard to pretend that they hadn’t eavesdropped all the yelling coming out of room 803 earlier as opposed to the usual noise, and greeted you, but you just ignored them.

That night, you didn’t return to Jaehyun’s room.

____

When you had first voiced the desire to become a teacher, your priority was to support and foster children who really needed special attention. Those who got overlooked in school, who suffered from the intense pressure and who possessed talents that weren’t recognized.

You had landed the assistant teacher position in that prestigious private kindergarten, because you had been sent there from your former teacher’s program when the previous one needed to be admitted to the hospital due to severe burnout. She had never returned and you were able to stay as it was in the middle of the semester. It had been sheer luck.

As an assistant teacher, you were only doing that: assisting. None of the things that had driven you to study this major could have come to use yet, and you were tired. You wanted to become a real teacher, because you thought you could finally get the wheels rolling this way.

Jaehyun saw it in your eyes the moment you opened the door. “You’re going to Busan.”

You bit into your lower lip, nodding almost noticeably. “I’ll go to Busan.”

“Without me.” He smiled in defeat.

“Yes.”

“Is it so hard for you?” he asked. “To just let people you love into your life?”

“It’s not that I go because I don’t love you.”

He had you in his arms and inside his apartment before the first tear fell. “I know. I love you too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears dropped onto his shirt and lifted your arms, holding meekly onto the fabric. “You’re just so young and you’re going to finish your studies soon. You shouldn’t go with me.”

Quietly, he whispered into your hair, “I know.”

If Jaehyun went with you, he would give up his dream of finally breaking free from his parents and seeing the world. You were not going to rob him of that. If you didn’t go, you would need to give up your own dream, and he wouldn’t want that either. 

Perhaps, it was because you were older and more experienced than Jaehyun, but you had felt from the beginning that whatever you had started was going to find an end soon anyway. There was just no future for two people who were at such different stages in their life. 

Sometimes in life, there were no winners in love.

You snuggled up to him more and sobbed, “I’m really grateful for what you have done for me. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to come so far.”

In the end, you had come to your senses. You were not going to throw his selfless acts away and accepted the gift he had been willing to give to you without anything in return. Just because he selflessly loved you. As simple as that. You were willing to pass this message on to everyone who needed it.

At his age, perhaps it was really this simple to love so fiercely and unconditionally. Later in life though, he would realize that it would take much, much more.

“Nonsense.” Jaehyun chuckled lightly. “You can achieve anything you want, you know that. You were just in the wrong environment. You can still-”

You shook your head and withdrew yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t change anything. You helped me achieve my goal and I’m not going to stand in the way of yours. You never dreamed of staying here after your graduation. If you do, even with all the love you hold for me now, you’re going to resent me one day, and I don’t want to take credit for that. Perhaps you don’t understand now, but you will in the future. You have to go.”

Mrs. Nam was wrong. You didn’t choose wealth and power over love. There was a third option. You chose your dream. And Jaehyun should do that too.

“When I’ve finished my travels and started with my business, can I come find you again?”

He wanted a sliver of hope, a silver lining. If it put him at ease, you would give him that, even if the chance was so less, you wouldn’t even dare to dream about it in secrecy.

“I’ll wait for you.”

With the kind of lifestyle Jaehyun had been living before you, you were sure that he would forget about this sliver of hope all too soon.

When he met girls in other countries, he would forget about his neighbor in room 804 at his former apartment complex who had always been so mean to him. Soon, you would only be a blurry picture in a string of memories, joining the ranks of his many, many lovers.

He would not suffer too long, if at all. 

He would be fine, knowing that in the end, you still had picked them over him, just like he had initially predicted.

When Jaehyun kissed you goodbye, you were quite sure that this was the last time you would ever see him again despite living next door, which made getting over this breakup even more painful.

Back in your own room, you took off your fake engagement ring and put it into the far corner of a cramped drawer.

Whenever you went to bed the following days, you hoped that noises would start coming out of room 803 again. 

You were scared that without the noises, he would hear you cry yourself to sleep every night until you nearly passed out from exhaustion and only woke up with a swollen face the next morning over the pain of your heart breaking apart.

But no noise could be heard ever again coming out of room 803.

And it broke you even more, knowing he was suffering as much as you.

____

Two months later, in late December, Jaehyun moved out.

You came home to movers carrying box after box out of his apartment. You had lingered a bit longer at your front door, heart pounding at your throat, just to get a glimpse of Jaehyun for one last time. But he had not been present that day. When you left your apartment a few hours later to grab dinner from the convenience store, his room was entirely empty.

According to the semester plan, he must have finished his last exams by now, so he was unofficially done with his bachelor studies. You doubted he would come back for a ceremony in February, so he was free to do whatever he wanted now. Perhaps, he was sitting on a plane to Italy or France at this very moment. 

A few days later, an elderly woman moved into room 803.

And life went on.

____

One year later

“Teacher, what are you going to do during vacation?” one of your students, a four-year-old-boy, asked.

It was the day before winter break, but working for a public kindergarten meant you would at least get a week to yourself during New Year in January apart from desk warming the remaining break. A week in two months of winter break and thanks to public holidays only, but it was better than nothing at all.

“Perhaps,” you answered while putting one hand crafted paper star after another that the children had made for christmas on the classroom’s windows, “I’ll take a little trip.”

“To where?” another girl, one year older, chimed in. “I’m going to Busan to visit my grandmother!”

“I’m going to Busan too!” the boy then announced. “Teacher, have you ever been to Busan?”

You shook your head, reaching for another star he held out to you. “I’ve never come to visit there. Can you recommend it?”

“Yes!” Both children yelled excitedly. 

“Then I’ll ask you where I should visit when I go there!”

They nodded in acknowledgement and returned back to their work which was crafting more stars so that the entire windows would be covered in them by the end of the day. 

Twice a week, the kindergarteners were divided into different groups which either focused on art or music. The main subjects taught were reading, writing and maths. Apart from that, the children had enough free time to enjoy being real children, which they spent playing together, being outside and getting taught other necessary educational topics like brushing teeth and healthy nutrition in a playful way.

In comparison to Shi-A private kindergarten, where the teachers had paid homage to the parents with impressive courses including Chinese and English, topped with real diplomas and graduation ceremonies as well as teachers who had to work all throughout each break, this public school was where you felt you belonged.

This was where you finally felt you could actually support the children like you had always wanted, in an environment safer for them and their teachers.

And that was the very reason why you had never signed the contract for Shi-A elementary school in Busan in the first place.

In fact, you had never planned on doing so. How else would you have convinced Jaehyun to leave after everything? Just because you couldn’t live your dream didn’t mean he shouldn’t either.

You had never picked other people over him, you had always picked him. 

Before you had gone to him to break up, you had thought about the upcoming decision for very long. You had loved those children, but eventually, they would move on and forget you. While you would have been stuck in a slave contract in a worse environment than before with parents from hell. All the money and other benefits could have never made up for the mental suffering.

It had always been your dream to work for a reputable private school, but one day, you had remembered the little girl inside of you who had not wanted reputation and recognition and was only there to help children.

So you had quit altogether.

And then you had eventually landed a job as a teacher at this public kindergarten where the salary was much lower and the commute took over an hour one way, but the work conditions were much better and the teachers and children just as lovely. The parents were not less strict, but tolerable and nobody tried to sabotage anyone.

Yet nowadays, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was still not everything to your life as a teacher. This could not be it, there had to be more you could move in this entire system. You just couldn’t point a finger as to what it could be as this was everything you had ever dreamed of having.

“What are you going to do during our time off?” you asked your assistant teacher. 

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s family for the very first time, they’ve invited me to spend New Years with them,” she giggled shyly. “I’m so excited. And you?”

You smiled, happy for everyone who had plans except for you. 

“Perhaps, I’m going on a little trip to Busan. I’ve never been there before.”

____

It was already late when you arrived at home, and as always during winter, it was dark outside now as well. 

While you typed in the door code combination, you wondered which convenience store food you would get for dinner today as again, you were too exhausted to cook something yourself. A small vacation would surely help you relax and start into the new semester more fresh. Yes, you should definitely go to Busan.

You halted though when you opened your front door. Had you accidentally left the lights on?

You hurried through the narrow hall, at one point wondering if you had been robbed during your absence when a voice spoke up before you even reached the living room,

“I still remember your passcode from the day I climbed through your window.”

Jaehyun arose from your couch and your breath caught. 

He was still as handsome as the last time you had seen each other over a year ago. Nicely dressed, hair still dark and neatly combed aside. He looked healthy and happy, and it made you happy too to see him like this.

At one point, you had dropped your bag on the floor while you could do nothing else but stare at him and stare, wondering if this was a dream. One of too many from the past year, of which you had never hoped could ever come true.

“What… are you doing here?” You didn’t know what else to say, you had so many questions.

“I’m living here now.” With a grin, he pointed at a suitcase in the corner of the living room. “Temporarily.”

“Well…” You cleared your throat and feigned braveness. “As far as I remember, your room is the one next to mine, room 803.”

“Yeah, but sadly that one is already occupied by a very nice, elderly lady who was quickly able to assure me that you were still living here.”

Before you could think twice, you had already closed the distance between you two, and he held you tightly in his arms, quietly, for a very long time.

“You liar,” Jaehyun eventually said, with no trace of reproach in his tone though, pressing you even closer to his chest. “You big, fat liar. When I called Shi-A elementary school in Busan. They told me they never heard of you, and when I called your former kindergarten, they said you quit a year ago.”

“I’ll take credit for being a liar this time as opposed to you.” You smiled through your tears when Jaehyun gently pushed you away from him and cupped your face. “I didn’t want you to stay here with me. I didn’t want you to give up on your dream just because I did.”

“Say no more. I understand." His expression was so gentle, his face free of any worry and doubt. “I was a regular student with no real perspective and just one dream. You just told me to do what a good teacher would have told all their students. This time, all the trickery rightfully belonged to you, but I would be really happy if we stop that now.”

You nodded, your tears salty against your lips, but Jaehyun kissed them all away from your cheeks. “I’m so glad you came back,” you sobbed.

“I told you I would.”

It had never been only a sliver a hope for him. It had always been a promise.

“But what if I wouldn’t have been here anymore?”

“Then I would have come to Busan or to wherever in the world to get you.”

You blinked through your blurry vision. “To get me where?”

One corner of Jaehyun’s lips tilted up when he let go of you. “Eventually, my parents came to their senses and didn’t abandon me like they always threatened. The longer I traveled and the more people I met, the more I realized that with my background and roots, I am able to achieve something, to change something, and far faster than anyone else. I am so privileged and took it for granted when I can twist it to an advantage instead of being a selfish brat. When I have the possibility and opportunity, I don’t want to throw it away. So halfway through my trip, I was just building connections for my future. I will join my parents’ business after all, but not to work for them, but for myself. I will build my own sister company.”

“Jaehyun, that’s amazing!” you congratulated him. “I’m happy you figured out your future path! I can assure you, you’re going to do such a great job.”

Sometimes, it just took someone a few months off to figure out where they belonged, what they wanted. If he had followed you, he might or might have not come to the same conclusion. You couldn’t figure out an answer. But what mattered was that he had one after all.

“So all throughout your Europe trip, it was not only drinking and girls?” you teased. 

“Please.” He waved aside. “Everyone was annoyed by the fact that I kept talking about one woman only who I would return to eventually.”

You blushed. “Still, you told me you came to take me. To where, tell me?” 

Jaehyun’s expression turned stern, but hopeful. “To the UK. That’s where I want to build my company, kind of like an overseas branch. I still can’t offer you much, but in a few years, I promise you, when my business is flourishing and we live in a nice townhouse in the center of London with a small garden and a dog and children, you won’t regret it. But…” He halted as though a sudden thought had crossed his mind. “But if you have already found someone who can offer just as much now or even better, then I understand if you decline.”

“How many?” you asked while losing a breath you had been holding in.

“What?”

“How many children?”

Perhaps, that was it, what you were missing. Perhaps, you weren’t supposed to work in this environment for the entirety of your life. Perhaps, just like Jaehyun, you were destined for so much more, for another path, and that path was perhaps not etched into the grounds of this country.

How were you supposed to find out if you didn’t try just like he had?

“T-two,” Jaehyun responded, unsure whether it was the right answer.

He could have said one or ten for all you cared. “Sounds good. I should then tell my fiancé our engagement is called off, because he wants three.”

“...what?”

You shook your head and laughed. “There is no fiancé, neither real or fake. There… hasn’t been anyone since you.”

“Good. It’s good to see you so happy and carefree finally.” Jaehyun approached you and put his hands on your waist, drawing you close to him. “And I’m relieved there is no other man. Because when I’m going to propose to you, it’s going to be for real this time.”

A smile radiating pure bliss left your lips when you got on your toes and finally kissed him.

You were blissfully unaware of the fact that Jaehyun had already picked out the ring before he had left the country, one identical to your fake one, just made of platinum and adorned with a real diamond. Princess cut, two carats. Just like you had dreamed of. 

He had carried it with him whenever he went, like a lucky charm.

The ring was a reminder to him that there was always a reason to come back.

Because his future wife was waiting for him, and she deserved everything she had ever dreamed of. 

[stelladoesstuff]

DETARUNE CHAPTERS 3 AND 4 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

I’ve got a prophecy/endgame theory lads, buckle up

I think it’s safe to say that the ending of chapter four is alluding to Ralsei’s death. Which absolutely SHOOK me, but the two chapters overall both were hinting at this going in. The multiple instances of him insisting they shouldn’t care about him, the empty room because he knows he won’t survive to need it for very long, the blood on his cheek with his words about fate being decided, and, of course, his parallel to Asriel in Undertale in being sacrificed for a greater cause.

Suffice to say, unless this is all a red herring, the game spent a large portion of the two chapters building up to this ultimate reveal. However, I think this final scene also hints at HOW Ralsei is supposed to die despite the prophecy being shattered by Susie. It’s subtler, but there.

Susie is supposed to kill him.

The blood on Ralsei’s face is initially from Susie’s hand. “The blood is on her hands.” She turns to touch his face after insisting none of them will let it happen, ESPECIALLY Ralsei.

Over the course of the chapter, Susie is consistently interested in the prophecy, and especially her role in it. This, and her story in chapters three and four heavily revolve around her growth as a person. She’s reflecting on herself, and learning to see herself has more than the ‘bad kid’ she was. It’s a focal point for a reason; it’s going to get flipped on its head.

Ralsei reiterates throughout the chapter that Susie is “a really really nice person.” It’s brought up in Chapter 3 after speaking about the festival, and after this conversation in Chapter 4. Ralsei’s question of “How can she be so kind?” isn’t reflecting to Susie’s own reflections of herself, or because of her consistent consolations of Ralsei’s doubts (in her Susie way), despite it being framed that way. He’s constantly questioning how she could possibly be so kind when she’s fated to kill him.

And Ralsei’s hope that the prophecy would change. Consider it: Would he have been trying to change his own death the whole time if it wasn’t for one of the lightner’s sake? No. Because multiple times again, he states he will take the pain for them. The reason he has been so insistent on “being kind” from the get go was not to change his own fate, but Susie’s. To try and ensure she wouldn’t be stuck with the fate of being the one to take his life, and have to live with that guilt.

He thought the answer was teaching her kindness. But with the prophecy unchanged, it leaves him stuck with that question: “how can she be so kind” and still be his inevitable doom? How can someone so kind still be fated to end his life?

…

Anyways, if Ralsei actually dies I’m still crying.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

"In a world where you can be anything......

..............be kind"

Pt1 Pt2 This is part three. Girlscout reader! III

If someone asked you what the cutest thing in the world was you'd probably say otters ,or pandas depending on the day.

But as Bruce looks at you from across the table he could almost swear on all his money that nothing in all the world was cuter then you.

You ate happily and babbled about your favorite Powerpuff girl not noticing the tense atmosphere he and your mother noticed because of their disagreement moments ago.

It was funny how one moment you had been dropped off to sell your girlscout cookies like usual. And the next you have a billionaire super hero absolutely wrapped around your finger.

But you pay no mind to that fact as you continue with your ranting and your mother doesn't seem to stop as she peaceful eats her food.

This must be normal for the both of you Bruce's thinks to himself.

Both talking -well more like you talking but her listening to your every word. Even as you talked about things that didn't make a link of sense she'd happily agree with you as she ate her food.

You and your mother must've had dinner together every day. That was pretty clear on how natural this seemed for two of you. Bruce never had all his kids at dinner. And on the rare occasions that he did it'd always end in a fight or disagreement.

But you and your mother had none of that. No, this dinner was very diffrent then the dinner that took place at the manor. This dinner was...calm.

Even if the food would in Bruce's eyes be considered a 'struggle meal' and nothing like the lavish food Alfred prepares ,you both ate it happily. Just grateful that you both had food. Watching the small interaction of how you and your mother were content with your small life simple life Bruce had begun feeling overwhelmed with.....jealousy?

Some might laugh at the thought a billionaire being jealous of a nurse that make minum wage and her daughter? What foolishness they might think.

But it was clear as day to Bruce how jealous he truly was and if you or your mother had known him well enough you'd see it too.

His jaw was clenched tight something that not even his kids worst attitude could bring was the lump in the back at his throat from trying not to scoff.

What would he scoff at? He doesn't even know but he was angry. Not at you or your mother but at himself.

Because he's one of the richest men in the world and yet he can't have what you and your mother so simply have.

A simple dinner with his family.

"Who's your favorite my little pony character?!"

Your excited voice and question snaps Bruce out of his trance.

"I...I've never watched that movie." Bruce says which earns an amused laugh from your mother and a fits of giggles from you.

"My little pony isn't a movie ,silly!" You pause and think to yourself before you continue.

"Well it does have some movies ,I guess..." You mutter the last part looking deep in thought almost like you couldn't decide if my little pony was a show or movie.

But Bruce just felt like an idiot. Especially because he could see your mother trying to muffle her laughs. I mean I how was he supposed to know it was a show? He has all sons! And they literally never watch TV with him anyway....

The dinner went on almost in peaceful silence other then you babbling about just about anything.

And though the dinner isn't as extravagant as his usual dinners he finds himself becoming addicted to love ombroded into it.

It was a simple life you and your mother lived and probably a hard one too. But Bruce couldn't deny the fact of how the family atmosphere in your house. Or the way you respected and loved your mother.

No matter how bruce looked at it your house unlike the manor at times was a home.

Not a nice or big one but a home.

The dinner has soon came to an end and despite Bruce's disappointment it was time for him to leave.

You hugged him right before he left looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

"I'll see you Saturday...." You say quietly and he smiles softly at your words. It was like one of his kid actually wanted to see him. It was like you were already one of his kids.

Your mother holds the door open for him and as he's walking out he can't help but think.... how can he just willingly leave you without a fight?

But the cruel reality of you not being his child hits him. But still.....so he thinks fast. And before your mother can close the door he puts his foot infront stopping it from closing.

"Actually....my..my sons birthday is tomorrow....I'd love if you guys could come." Bruce says and now he's the one looking at your mother with pleading eyes.

Hoping she wouldn't deny the offer. She sighs and you know that sigh. She's about to say no. So just like bruce you think fast!

"Can we please go mommy? Tomorrow's Sunday you don't have work and I don't have school... pleaseeeeeeeee?" You whine and beg.

And she curses your smart brain for memorizing her schedule before she sighs but this time it's a defeated sigh and you smile knowing you won.

"I'll think about it....it'll be at your house right?"

Your mother says already dreading the thought. And Bruce nods with his charming smile. "Yep 2pm....don't be late." He says smiling as he turns around acting like he already one. (Which he kinda did.)

Your mother scoffs watching him walk off like he made a statement.

"Idiot." Your mother mutters under hear breath but she smiles as she hears your excited squel.

"We gotta go mama! We gotta!"

And gosh she can practically already see your happy smile before she even turns around.

But she isn't complaining especially when your this happy.

Much to your mother's dismay you and your mother are both standing outside with a gift bag in hand outside the manor the next day.

It's a pretty gloomy day so it's obvious the parties inside. Your mother is pretty confused as to why there's really no one here because the son of a billionaire has a birthday party and there's not hundreds of people? That's crazy...and very unusual.

But she ignores that as the door opens and you both see the big kiddish birthday banner that's hung up near the chandelier.

"I'm so glad you two could make it....please come in." The sweet old butler you had told your mother so much about says.

And you were right he does seem pretty sweet your mother thinks. Walking in ,there seems to be about two or three other family's inside but other then that it's just you guys and the Wayne's.

You look around excited and let go of your mother's hand before she can react.

"Kitty!" You yell squealing as you chase the cat to the kitchen.

Your mother tries to grab you but stops when she sees its useless. Bruce seeing the whole interaction walks up to your mother before she can go looking for you.

"She'll be fine..." Bruce says before clearing his throat. "I'm...um glad you two could make it." He says his usual confidence faltering.

Your mother bods giving a awkward smile.

You on the other hand are having an absolutely wonderful time as you pick up the surprisingly calm cat.

"Good kitty..." You say softly to the cat as you gently rub its back not noticing the confused and slightly irritated preteen walking up to you.

"He's not a kitten anymore. He's a cat." Damian says sternly looking at you up and down trying to figure out who you were.

"All cats are basically kitties...." You say and damian looks at you like your ridiculous because to him you are.

Dick the ever golden child tries to defuse the fight before it happens.

"Hey there sweetheart....who's your parents?" He asks putting a hand on Damians shoulder to calm him.

"Yes who is your parents? I specifically told father ,I didn't want anyone other then family at my party." Damian says before you can answer.

You giggle as the cat begins to purr from you rubbing it.

Looking at you and your behavior Dick can't help but guess.

"Is your dad Clark? Like Clark kent? You don't look like him...did he adopt you?"

You giggle again at their confused faces and shake your head.

"No? Well thats unfortunate.....Clark usually has the happy kids....anyway who is your parents then?" Dick says now very curious.

Now you have Damian and Dick both curious but before you can respond Bruce steps up out of nowhere.

"This is the kid I was telling you guys about....remember?" Bruce says putting a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him smiling. Which really throws them off.

"Bruce...can I talk to you for a moment?" Dick says sounding worried. And Bruce nods confused did you not make a good first impression?

Walking to the side Dick speaks up.

"So that's the kid your planning on adopting?"

"Yes....is there a problem?" Bruce says utterly confused.

"Well no....but usually the kids you adopt...are different....." Dick says motioning his hand around to make a point.

"Well yes she will be the first girl but...."

"No she's the first kid not traumatized ,father." Damian says interrupting Bruce.

"Oh......."

Bruce takes a good glance back at you as you carefully continue petting the cat with a smile....yeah you were definitely different then his other kids....

"Well I think it's a good thing!" Tim says with a smile popping out of nowhere.

"The hell did you come from?" Dick says taken back.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Tim says rolling his eyes.

"I just told her about quantum physics and she actually listened! She didn't call me lame or anything! She actually told me I was smart like twilight...and I have no idea who that is....but they sound smart!" Tim says happily as if he just won the lottery.

"See atleast one of you already likes her." Bruce says trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't not like her....I just didn't know you chose her is all...." Dick says shrugging.

"Impossible" Damian says and all eyes turn to him.

"What's impossible?" Dick questions.

"That." Damian says pointing to you.

And low and behold what you are currently doing is nearly impossible. You still holding the calm cat in your arms have begun talking to the one an only red hood. Or like he told you Jason Todd.

And not only are you talking you have him....smiling? Damian is right.....it's impossible.

"When the hell did he get here?" Tim asks confused.

To which dick shrugs and replies.

"I stopped asking those stupid questions a long time ago."

Bruce just stares in disbelief...and happiness.

"That's no fair...he's stealing my future favorite sibling away from me!" Tim say throwing his arms up dramatically.

Damian scoffs rolling his eyes.

"Oh please drake don't humor us. Everyone knows that she'll favor me."

"And how exactly are you sure of that little wing? I mean the youngest usually favor the oldest...." Dick says with a mocking smile.

"Well she is holding my cat." Damian retorts.

"That doesn't count." Tim says putting his hand on his hips.

"Well it looks like she already has a favorite...." Bruce says looking as he looks at you and jason from afar... It was a quiet a sight a big druglord smiling and having a calm conversation with a little girl in a puffy pinky dress.

But Bruce loved the fact that you and jason were getting along and he could see why. You had that special spark about you. That made you light up a room...just like jason had when he was robin......

Jason finally seeing that the others are watching him he kindly ends your conversation and walks over to them.

"Who's the kid?" Jason says gesturing back to you as you continue petting Alfred the cat.

"That's the kid Bruce plans to adopt." Dick say with a smug like smile.

Jason's eyes narrow but not enough to be considered a glare. "Hell no, Bruce." Jason says his voice firm and Bruce shoots him a puzzled look.

"Not that one....you don't get to ruin that one." Jason says and Bruce can't hide the fact that Jason's words sting.

"Don't be ridiculous Todd...it's already being done." Damian pipes up clearly eager to have you in the family.

"Actually no it's not....this one actually has a family....a mom. A good one too." Tim says in a 'know it all way'.

"Well that can be easily fixed....." Damian whispers shrugging as if it's simple problem.

"You see what I mean! Even the biological one is fucked up!" Jason says pointing at Damian.

"Now let's all calm down... I'm sure Bruce has a good reason why he feels the need to adopt her." Dick says trying and failing to calm everyone down.

"Is her mom abusive?"

"A drug addict?"

"Neglective?"

"Irresponsible?"

"Well no.....she's a good mother..." Bruce says awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Have you ever heard the term if it's not broke don't fuckin try and fix it!?" Jason says sighing and rubbing his face.

"Alfred wants her too." Bruce defends quickly.

All eyes turn to him in shock. Because Alfred had never told bruce to adopt one of them. Sure Alfred loved all of them the second they stepped foot in the manor but he had never told Bruce to get them.

"Your lying....." Dick mutters in disbelief.

"Sadly he is telling the truth." Alfred says walking up to them.

"Well I change my mind. I'm in." Jason's says which makes everyone more confused.

"Why are you in now?" Tim asks.

"Well if Alfred wants her....she must be pretty special." Jason says shrugging.

"She indeed is." Alfred clarifies with a smile.

"In what ways is she exactly 'special'." Damian questions confused.

"I believe she could....fix us." Alfred says nonchalantly.

".......huh?"

"Alfred's right.....we could use some help...." Bruce says nodding.

"Well I won't speak for all of you ,but I do speak for myself when I say I personally don't see anything wrong with me." Damian says raising his eyebrows silently daring anyone to tell him he's wrong.

"You literally just offered to kill the girls mom so we could adopt her." Dick says shaking his head like a disappointed mother.

"I was trying to be a good big brother ,and offer assistance. You should try it some time ,grayson." Damian says scoffing.

"See what I mean where fucked up!" Jason says groaning and shaking his head.

"Well I wouldn't say she'd be helping us improve. I prefer to call it needing light in a time of darkness." Alfred says calmly putting his hands together but he isn't looking at any of them.

They all trace his gaze and look the way he's looking which leads back to you.

Looking back at you they see your mother already scolding you for running off but there's no true bite behind her words and they can tell.

I mean who could yell at you when your pouting so cutely?

"What about the mom?" Jason asks not taking his eyes off of you.

"Like I said that can be arranged."

"No Damian!" They all say in sync.

"Well then pennyworth....since this is your idea. What do you suggest?" Damian asks quietly so you and your mother don't hear.

Now all eyes are on Alfred but Alfred doesn't take his eyes off of your mother.

And like always the butlers words are calm ,and surprise everyone.

"Marriage."

Thanks for reading!!

Likes reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Notes: this is not proofread please do not judge!

Taglist: @rovcarmen @yua-who @nervousalpacalady @jsprien213 @blue-flower-lady @ghost-0rch1d @vanilliona @vanessa-boo @cat-lover-over-9000 @itsmossy @nightstarblue @imhere2dosomething @hearts4mica @minny-ka @alishii @tsxukikami @its-simply-just-krys @maskedvoyance @theworldscalamity @kazuuhali

[rexhya]

note — i built these into each other js for funsies 😛

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who wakes up feeling empty, and was right when he can't find you anywhere. he thinks your just hiding from him as usual, he thinks he'll find you in the bathroom somwhere crouched beneath the sink, trying to make yourself feel useful, but there's nobody.

he doesn't panic yet, you can be slippery from time to time, not to mention the fact you insisted it was better you sleep in your room last night. ( something about being on your period and dirty sheets ) and you'd bee so good lately he was easy to comply with your demands.

now he wishes he hadn't, Anul tore his bedroom and living room looking for you, tears prickinging his cheeks, hand shaking manically. where had you gone? and were you okay, what if something bad happened to you?

he was abput to search the kitchen when he realized there was too much ground to cover, instead he made an announcement to all the staff working that day: find you.

when it was quickly realized you werent in the castle Anul almost felt his heart stop. you werent hiding from him, you were running from him. uou'd escaped his grasp and took off without a word.

he was hot with anger, but would save that for later. first and foremost was to locate his precious girl, the woman of his life.

but that didnt come easy either, 2 weeks had gone by snd he was starting to feel helpless, he'd exhausted most of his resrouces looking and looking for where you could be. how long would this take, he didnt know. his patience was thinning along with his willpower, this was it, there was only one place he hadnt searched for yet and if you weren't there he'd be sure then that someone had taken you and he needed to go further to find you.

and then he did, after two long weeks and a lifetime of worrry later you were there. smiling from ear to ear, a basket of something in your hand talking to whoever had the pleasure. he didn't waste a second, it wasn't a very steep incline from the hill he'd recognized you on downwards. he'd left the horses there, he could see the ansty villiagers, what was the prince doing all the way out here? it couldn't have been good.

news travel get to your quaint little town as fast, anul was approaching you from behind as your mother and father spoke to you fondly. but then they stopped, and a young gave them a confused glance.

"are you two okay, you look a little pale.."

"everything is spendid!" a cherry voice aaid behind you.

fear rippled through your body, you whipped your head around and your worst fears were fufilled. he'd found you.

"but-but how I..." you trailed off as anul frowned, he didnt like it that you weren't estatic to see you considering how much time he spwnt looking for you. he'd thought you'd been kidnapped for christs sake!

"what are you doing here!" you blurted out, regretting it immediately.

anuls gaze was like ice, you took a step back closer to your parents arms. anul didn't say anything for a moment, he only started at the picture in front of him.

his only love, and your mother and father. "I think i should be asking you that question, don't you?"

"I-," you gulpled, terrified. "I'm sorry." and another protetive step back.

this made his smile, "oh i know you are."

that's when it dawned on him, "well, I belive it's quite rude, and probably treason to turn away the crown prince from your door, is there no tea?" and your motger immediately jumped into action, swooping the three of you into your childhood home and trying to calm the atmosphere.

when the tea was set down anul scooted closer to you so that his arm could slink around your waist, it was a feeling you thought you'd forgotten about.

you parents sat there quietly, trying to make sense of whst was happening in there home.

then anul opened his mouth, "Mrs. [Last Name], Mr. [Last Name] I'd like to graciously ask the two of you for your blessing."

and you flinched, this wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. you could only watch as he explained to your parents, then just as quickly as he came, he left, only this time with you in his arms, fit perfectly right where you belong.

[shockercoco]

Peas in a Pod

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - swearing, fluff, reader’s nickname is Pea

Word count - 4814

a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :) Part 2 out now!

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind. 

It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you. 

You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead. 

As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you. 

You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.

It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.

When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be?  You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.

You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you. 

Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.

“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.

Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.

“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.

You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.

“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.

“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”

A loud laugh leaves Stack this time. 

“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”

Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod. 

After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea. 

Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.

You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.

“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”

“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”

“Unfortunately,” you smile.

“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”

Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”

“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.

“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.

“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”

“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”

“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”

The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.

“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.

“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.

Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.

Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”

When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.

Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.

“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”

“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.

You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.

Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.

“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”

Oh.

“And what if I had plans?”

You don’t.

Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”

“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”

“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask. 

You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.

“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.

Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.

“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.

“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.

“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.

And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.

You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”

“Now, that’s just wrong.”

~

Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack. 

And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?

You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.

“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.

“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“

“Not birth, it was more like-“

Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”

You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.

Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”

“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”

“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”

You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.

“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”

“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the fun out of my night.”

-

The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene. 

Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.

Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.

“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.

You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”

“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”

Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.

Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”

“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.

Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.

The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside. 

Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.

“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.

“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.

“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.

Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”

You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.

When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.

“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you. 

You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.

“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.

“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say. 

This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.

Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.

“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.

You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”

Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.

“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.

“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.

Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen. 

Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.

It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.

Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally. 

You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.

Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.

After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.

You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building. 

You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.

Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.

“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.

“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”

“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.  

“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.

“What are you up to these days?” 

“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”

“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”

“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”

Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”

“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.

Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”

“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.

Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”

The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building. 

You wish you had brought a fan with you.

Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you. 

You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.

“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”

Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”

“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Your heart flutters.

“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch. 

Damn.

“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.

“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”

“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter. 

“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.

“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”

“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”

You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you. 

“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.

And there goes your breath.

“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”

“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”

Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”

Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.

You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”

Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.

“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”

Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town. 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”

“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”

“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And if I’m right?”

“What would you like in return?”

You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”

Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”

“So, who is it?”

Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.

“You.”

You.

You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”

“I am, Pea.”

All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him. 

Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.

“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him. 

Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.

Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”

Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks. 

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