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moonjxsung · 1 year

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Not Allowed

TV GIRL / NOT ALLOWED

⇢ Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

⇢ Summary: You and Felix are childhood friends turned fwb, with no strings attached. Felix leaves to pursue his idol dreams, and you begin your life as a college student. When he comes back to visit your town, he’s drawn to you again- but you’re both leading very different lives.

⇢ Warning: smut lol

⇢ W/c: 15k?

⇢ A/n: inspired by the TV Girl song “not allowed” <3 this has a lot of smut bc the whole song is abt sex so if ur uncomfortable with that, please don’t interact!

// MINORS DNI // DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST MY WORK

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are 18+. the actions and story represented in this work do not represent Stray Kids in any way; everything described is purely a work of fiction!

“What’s on your nasty old mind?”

Your childhood was by no means perfect. In fact, things seldom worked out in your favor. Born an only child in a middle-class working household, your parents were absent for long periods of time. Mom worked late nights at the hospital in the week, and dad was always away on business trips or out at company meetings. How many of these were actually late-night corporate gatherings and not just another woman he’d sneak off to see, you had no clue.

School was difficult, although you excelled in your courses, the stress ate away at you and withered you down like a dying flower. Decaying petal by petal, thorn by thorn, you’d find yourself questioning what the purpose of all this was if just to slave away at a desk and make money.

It seemed most everything was at the cost of your time, money, and sanity- except your friendship with Felix.

Lee Felix- even the name brought back distinct memories. Lazy, carefree afternoons when the two of you would spend hours upon hours scattering the sidewalks with chalk drawings of sea animals and hopscotch squares. Racing each other to the ice cream man’s cart when you’d hear the jingle from a block away. Laughing between singsong acrostic poems over colorful popsicles, the heat melting sticky sweetness onto your fingers, where you’d run them over your tinted red sunburns for some relief.

Most nights you’d spend at Felix’s house, tucked away in makeshift blanket forts in his bedroom- doing your best to keep hushed while you’d devise plans for tomorrow’s equally carefree July summer day.

Sometimes his sisters would join the two of you, learning all about your games as you’d walk them through the rules and dedicate one of them to the role of referee (per Felix’s sore loser request). But as you grew older, they made their own plans and friends, leaving the two of you to grow up alongside each other.

Days turned to months, which quickly turned to years that the two of you had been best friends. You observed as Felix grew taller and leaner, his short brown hair framing the introduction of freckles scattered all over his face- cheeks, eyes, and button nose. He couldn’t help but comment when you painted your nails for the first time, remarking he’d forgotten you were a girl sometimes.

Before you knew it, you and Felix made it to high school, where you each formed your own friend groups. You, a solid group of girls who shared your newfound interest in horror movies and girls nights. And Felix, a group of guys from the soccer team, the sport which he spent most of his teenage years wrapped up in.

Although you had your own lives, you and Felix remained close. You greeted him with a gentle wave every time you passed each other in the hallways, even if you were with your own groups of friends. Felix admired your newfound love for fashion, often complimenting your outfits when you had a second alone. His favorites usually involved anything olive green- which he made known was the best color on your naturally tanned skin tone. He gave his approval when you got highlights for the first time, experimented with different piercings, and even showed more skin than usual as the spring transitioned to summer.

You didn’t go unnoticed by the others in your grade- in fact, you became a particularly hot topic when you got your first boyfriend. He was a nerdy little member of the water polo team, with whom you’d spend your days after practice in his car listening to music and sharing stories of his day. It was also then that you shared your first kiss- a short, sloppy encounter in the front of his mom’s green minivan. Nothing that stuck with you in the long run, for the two of you broke up just two weeks later, citing “conflicting schedules”. He was with a new girl a week after that.

Felix was also a popular topic on campus. Girls visited his away soccer games just to watch him play, squealing when he’d score a goal and give them a little wave from down on the field. He had a girlfriend almost every year of his high school career- ranging from the most popular girl in school, to one a year older than him, and even rumors of some from rival schools (none of which were very serious). You often passed him locking lips with a girl when you passed his locker, looking awkward and a bit too happy to be there. It was those times that he had failed to acknowledge you, which you never cared about, considering you indulged in crushes on most of his friends anyway.

But he still kept you in his thoughts, making small talk when he passed you alone, and even bringing brownies from his mom when she baked a little too much (the famous recipe passed to Felix shortly after). You assured him that things were well, your parents still just as busy, your cat doing just fine, your college applications taking too much time these days.

He was just as giddy as his younger self, beaming when you shared good news and sending you off with a hug when his girlfriend or soccer buddies would drag him away. You weren’t sure any of them liked you, but they acknowledged you with a small thin-lipped smile every time they came around, which was enough for you.

Your final year of high school was a turning point for the two of you. You had made it into your first choice of university, a mere two hours from your household, with grades that reflected your hard work. Felix, on the other hand, chose a different career path.

When he knocked on your door one night, the last person you’d guessed it would be was Felix. You opened the door for him, wrapping your arms around your oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame.

“Hey!” he said enthusiastically.

“Felix!” you exclaimed quietly. Nobody was home at this hour, but the way the streetlights lit the dim world beyond your door, it felt odd to talk any louder than this.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked politely, to which you furrowed your brows.

“Yeah, sure... I mean, is it bad? You’re kinda scaring me.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to give you the news first.”

You squint your eyes, unsure if you should invite him in. It felt odd considering he hadn’t been over in a while, but you didn’t want to make things weird.

“Yeah- do you want to come inside? Should I sit down for this?”

He chuckled again. “I won’t be long.”

You stepped aside as he passed through the door, standing with his hands in his pockets as you shut it behind you.

You led him to the living room, where he sat on the edge of the couch and smiled up at you. You took a seat next to him, facing your body toward him and smiling back.

“Okay…” you said timidly.

“Okay,” he began. “You remember when we were little, and I took those dance classes?”

You furrowed your brows at that. “Yeah, the hip hop ones? When you had that little performance?”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Yeah, I remember. We were so little!”

“We were!” he replied. “Anyway, so I did this tryout at an audition a little while back. It wasn’t really something I told anyone about, you know, in case they rejected me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“And… well… they want me to keep at it.”

You cocked your head slightly, trying to make sense of his vague tone.

“You mean… you passed the audition?”

A small smile began to form on his lips.

“Kind of? They want me to keep practicing as a… trainee? And then if I get picked, I could possibly get… signed?” he finished with a questioning tone.

The smile on your face grew as he finished his sentence.

“They want to sign you?!” you exclaimed, a warm feeling overtaking your chest.

He laughed. “Not yet, not until I go there and try out officially. But there could be a chance, I guess?”

You jumped up, waving your hands with frantic excitement. “Oh my god, Felix! That’s amazing! You have to do it! When are you- I mean, where are the tryouts? I want to watch as much as I can! How’s that gonna work out with school?”

He sighed. “That was my next point.”

You paused, watching his expression grow worrisome.

“It’s… in Korea.”

Felix expected you to cry, to choke up or even to bawl your eyes out. But you didn’t- instead, you gasped with an even bigger smile and gave one solid nod.

“Go,” you said firmly. “You can’t pass this chance up. There’s always university, and the people here, and life. You may never have this again. Go, and I’ll be rooting for you.”

His smile returned, his eyes narrowing into little crescent moons as he beamed across from you.

“You think so?” he asked.

“Oh I know so,” you reply. “Besides, if you get all famous, maybe this stupid town will be known for something other than being a shithole. They’ll say ‘you know that Felix kid’? He’s from there!”

Felix laughed, throwing his head back a little. When the two of you stopped laughing, he looked back at you, appreciation in his expression.

“You’ve always been here for me. I won’t forget that. Not ever.”

You shook your head, waving a hand.

“I’m just being a friend, Felix. That’s what we’ve always been to each other.”

He nodded. “Speaking of my best friend, where are you headed after graduation?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, cocking your head in the direction of the acceptance letter on the coffee table. “I don’t think there was ever a version of this universe where I’d be okay with not going.”

Felix’s jaw hung open, head shaking in disbelief. “Well I think this version of the universe knows how lucky they’d be to have you,” he said, extending his arms out for a hug, which you gladly accepted.

Felix held you against his chest for a minute, rubbing small circles into your back as he remarked how proud he was of you. You parroted the statement, telling him you knew he was going to make it big.

When he pulled away, his eyes darted to your lips for a brief second, and then back up to your eyes. “I can’t tell if that’s the same lip gloss you wore when we were younger.”

You chuckled. “Why would I keep the same tube of lip gloss from a decade ago?”

He smiled, a little embarrassed at his own remark. “I don’t know! You always wore that one. Strawberries? Or something like that.”

“Raspberries,” you said with a smile, and he held his gaze on yours for a second.

“Raspberry,” he echoed. “She wore raspberry.”

And in the midst of lingering seconds, he gently leaned into you, a strand of black hair falling over one eye.

“y/n… Can I… Would it be weird if I kissed you?”

You were startled for a second, as the action hadn’t crossed your mind in the time you’d known him.

“I mean, nevermind… sorry, that was weird. I’m just excited and I guess I felt like that would… lock in the moment? God, I’m sorry, that sounds so dumb-”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “Felix, if you wanted to lock in the moment, I’m pretty sure that little tangent did it enough.”

He chuckled too, a little disappointed you didn’t agree.

“Right, that’s probably true. I don’t even know why I asked that. We’re just friends after all, and it’s not like I came here to do that. I literally just got out of my relationship and I promise I’m not hitting on you-”

“Felix,” you interrupted. “I’m happy too. Come here,” you said gently, pulling his face to yours.

He smiled before pressing a tender kiss to your glossed lips, smiling into it and instinctively reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

When he pulled away, you laughed and wiped the sweet residue from the corners of his mouth.

It didn’t feel any different between you two, only your happiness for him was elevated by the emotions running through you following the encounter.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you told him again. “And I know you’re going to do great things.”

“I’m proud of you,” he echoed. “I don’t leave for a few months, if you want to do something? I mean as friends, obviously…”

You rolled your eyes jokingly. “A celebratory kiss doesn’t change anything between us. Duh, we can do something as friends.”

He laughed lightly. “Cool. I should get going, but we’ll catch up later?”

You nodded, gesturing to the door. “You know the way.”

And with that, he slipped back out into the night, his own house only a few blocks away.

Graduation came and went, and the two of you seemed to have reconnected again in ways you hadn’t during the entirety of high school. Felix would stop by in the early mornings, sometimes with little desserts he’d baked, and you’d enjoy them in the warm summer heat that enveloped your front porch.

For the first time ever, the two of you connected as blossoming adults. He told you tales of his past lovers- girls you now learned he would usually meet at soccer games away from your campus. He said he only ever really cared for one of them, whom he later broke up with to pursue somebody else he had his eye on. Defeating the purpose of him stating he ever cared for her, in typical Felix fashion.

He recalled the time he got caught cheating on his final math exam in sophomore year, which the teacher excused for how “tired he looked” (his words), and let him off with a gentle warning. He shared that he stayed up late practicing his dance and recording little songs on GarageBand, files which he’d save under recipe names on his computer, in case somebody accidentally came across one. Chocolate Cheesecake was his most recent, one which he’d gone so far as to upload a little thumbnail of the dessert for anonymity.

You soaked in his tales like you did the sunshine, laughing at his ability to turn the most outlandish scenarios into an adventure. You envied the way he had this long list of stories to pass down before he was even in university. But you shared your own stories back to him, albeit not the most exciting ones. You failed your driver’s test 3 times before finally passing, to which your instructor tentatively warned you to avoid busy streets for a few months.You almost set your house ablaze one night when you slept with a candle lit on your window sill. Nobody was hurt, but your mom scolded you for what felt like a lifetime. Your parents were going through a difficult patch right now, one you could see the possibility of ending in divorce. At this, Felix’s expression turned serious, swallowing at your words and nodding empathetically.

After exchanging a series of comforting words, he smiled over at you, chuckling at the way you licked your fingers clean of his famous fudge brownies.

“Is there a lucky guy?” he asked suddenly, wiggling his eyebrows in a curious manner.

“What?” you replied, trying your best to recall if you’d ever passed his house in the presence of another guy. Nothing came to mind- you hadn’t even pursued another boyfriend since your little water polo romance.

He chuckled. “Come on, there has to be somebody. I just told you all about the relationship I got out of. Think that’s reason enough to distract me with your version.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Absolutely no one. I don’t think I can do another car seat romance right now.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A car seat? That’s risque! You weren’t afraid of getting caught?”

You shook your head. “What’s the harm in getting caught kissing? That’s hardly a big deal!”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh sorry, I thought… something else.”

You paused for a brief moment, understanding his implications. “Felix… are you… inquiring about my sex life right now?”

His freckles almost disappeared as his face turned a bright shade of red. He was afraid if you sat any closer, you might feel the heat radiating from the tips of his ears.

“No! I wasn’t- I just thought,” he stammered.

You laughed in response. “You could’ve just asked if I was a virgin, you know. That’s not weird.”

His blush grew brighter, if even possible. “Oh god. I didn’t come here to try and get details out of you, I promise. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head. “You’re one of my best friends. I would likely tell you if I killed someone, you know.”

He laughed, the flush of his cheeks dying out a little. “Right.”

After a brief pause, you tilted your head in his direction. “Never.”

He raised his eyebrows a little, trying not to offend you with his reaction. “Never?”

You shook your head no. “Never! It just never happened. Of course if the right guy came along, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. But I’m not going to have sex with just anyone. It’s not that important to me.”

He nodded, taking in your words. There’s a kind of admiration he had for your thought process. And then he began to speak.

“Me neither.”

You almost jumped up in the swinging bench bench from beside him. “What? No way, I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to make me feel better!”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I was with anybody long enough to get to that point. Plus, it’s not like I was ever away from my parents or teammates to get up to that kind of stuff.”

You made sense of his words, a silence falling over the two of you.

“I mean…” he continued. “One of the girls at our second away game of senior year kind of… touched me? In the locker rooms?”

You stifled laughter. “I don’t need to hear the gory details of your almost handjob, Felix.”

He laughed back. “It was over my gym shorts!”

“Okay, okay! I get the gist!” you retorted, laughing into your hands.

The two of you fell silent again, the buzz of the cicadas bringing you back to reality for a moment.

“I should get going,” you tell him. “But thank you for the brownies. You really don’t have to keep bringing them. I’m going out with the girls later so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We could,” he said suddenly.

“What?” you replied, unsure of where his statement fit into your farewell.

“We could. Have… sex?” he clarified. You began to laugh, until you noticed his facial expression had turned serious.

“Felix? What are you proposing right now?”

He shrugged. “I’m not dating anyone. You’re not dating anyone. Neither of us have crossed it off our lists. It’s not like it has to be some big, emotional thing, y’know?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then quickly transitioned into a frown. “Are you just trying to get in my pants?”

His face panicked. “No, god no. I’m sorry. I just thought maybe you’d want to. I mean you’re going to college and there will probably be a ton of opportunities for it there. I’ll be living with like 20 guys for a while… I dunno, I just thought… It's stupid. I’m sorry.”

You thought over his words for a while. The thought of it didn’t turn you on- having sex with your childhood best friend. In fact, it was a little gross. But he was right- you hadn’t really checked it off your young adult list. And you wouldn’t see him for months, so any awkward emotions that arose would have months to pass by and dissipate.

“I’m gonna get going,” he said. “I’m sorry, I feel like I ruined things.”

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s do it.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You’re going to propose it and then act like I’m crazy for agreeing?” you replied.

“No, no! I mean- yeah. But only if you want to. Nothing emotional, if you don’t like it we can stop there. But we’ll have the story to tell when we’re both gone.”

“You make it sound like we’re dying, Felix.”

He chuckled.

“Let’s go inside. I’m not having my first time on a bench outdoors,” you finished.

He nodded, swallowing a big gulp of air. “Okay. I- do you want to take my hand? Or-”

You shook your head, chuckling at how awkward he managed to be sometimes. “Just go inside, I’ll meet you in my bedroom.”

Your bedroom was messier than you remembered. There were boxes scattered from packing for university. You realized Felix hadn’t seen it in a long time.

Posters of local bands scattered the walls, your mirrors plastered with collections of stickers. Your bed wasn’t made, the sheets sprawled over the edge and tangled from your morning slumber.

You were the first to lay down, gesturing for Felix to come over from his awkward stance in the doorway. He obliged, crawling on top of you and hoisting his weight up by a single elbow.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked nervously.

You smiled up at him, noting the way his freckles were yet again concealed by the blush across his cheeks.

“Yeah, you can kiss me.”

Felix smiled down at you, leaning in and pressing a gentle, yet firm kiss to your lips. His ebony hair tickled your cheek, which you reached up to move out of his face.

It was romantic and slow, and his hands traveled to the small of your waist, pulling you closer to his lanky frame.

He kissed you for a good while, and you could tell that although he hadn’t slept with anyone, he’d certainly had his share of kissing girls. His lips were plump and soft, and his eyelashes fluttered with pleasure every time you sighed against his mouth.

You’d almost forgotten the agreement by the time he slid a hand under your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice a little out of breath.

You nodded quickly in response, helping guide his hand to the curve of your breasts. Felix’s breath hitched in his throat as he examined your curves with the pads of his fingers. He awkwardly ran his index finger over your nipple, sighing in response when you let out a little gasp. His fingers were smooth, and oddly cold.

“So soft,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

With growing eagerness in your core, you pulled back and slid your shirt over your head, glancing over at Felix who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off your chest. You chuckled softly at his expression, mouth agape and stars in his eyes at the sight in front of him. He sure knew how to give you an ego boost.

“Your turn,” you said, snapping him back to reality.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling the back of his white shirt over his head and tossing it aside, getting lost in the pile of your clothes already on the floor.

You observed his body too, taking in every new freckle you hadn’t seen before. They were scattered along his clavicles, painting his chest with little beige constellations and stopping just before his toned pecs. Where there was an absence of freckles, his muscles accentuated generously, jutting out as if begging to be explored.

You nodded, as if to say nice body, and a knowing smile grew on his pink lips. “Come here,” he said, pulling you close again and pressing chaste kisses to your neck and collarbones.

You really liked neck kisses, you learned, as he took his time brushing a tongue over patches of skin before peppering them with kisses and nibbling with feeble hunger.

Your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his silky hair, which he moaned gently in between kisses in response to. With your hands busy, he took the opportunity to slide a hand down, down- all the way down to your jeans.

Pulling away from your neck, he didn’t hesitate to snap open the button of your jeans and free your pelvis of the zipper. He didn’t even ask for permission, knowing by your reaction that the answer was yes, absolutely yes, please don’t stop.

Your hands left his hair to help slide your jeans off, and he towered over you to mirror the action. In between innocent giggles, he gathered both articles of clothing in his nimble hands, before making a dramatic show of tossing those on the floor, too.

You were down to just your underwear, a feeling which made you nervous as you became aware of how exposed you were. But Felix didn’t leave a single spot untouched, showering your skin with kisses as your hands found their way to his hair again.

“Can I try something?” Felix asked, pulling away to gauge your reaction through his fluttering lashes. You nodded, observing as he positioned himself between your legs, and reached a single hand to your underwear.

It was your turn for your breath to hitch, growing goosebumps as he placed a single finger to your still-clothed wetness. You gasped in response, the feeling not far from when you’d squeeze your thighs together to sex scenes from your favorite movies.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” he admitted to you shyly. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

You brought your arms around his neck, smiling up at him and glancing down at his hands.

“Just circle my clit. With your finger. Like- yeah. Just like that,” you were interrupted by his successful attempt at following your instructions.

He smiled at your reaction, adding a finger and rubbing slow, thoughtful circles around your clit. You gasped at the heat growing in your core, happily accepting when he leaned down to kiss you as he continued. You stayed like that for several minutes, sweat pooling between your thighs as beams of sunlight glared through the window behind you.

Slowly, he hooked both fingers in your underwear, moving them aside to expose you, and placed fingers on your now fully exposed wetness. You gasped louder in response, humming with pleasure and gripping his toned bicep.

“Wait,” you said. “Let me just take them off.”

“Okay,” he replied in a gentle tone, pulling away a bit to let you slide your underwear off and over the bed.

Once bare, his fingers found their way back to your clit, now working little hearts into your skin. “Hearts?” you asked through a smile, kissing him harder and noting the lewd sounds of tongues and sweat and wetness that now filled the room.

He hummed in response, bucking his hips against your thigh, and you suddenly realized how hard he was for you. His bulge tented nicely in his gray boxers, the tip of his cock already flat against a generous spot of precum.

“Sorry,” he said, scared the accidental motion would make it look like he was moving too fast.

You grinned, shaking your head and propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “Take them off,” you requested plainly.

He gulped and nodded, admittedly scared of baring himself in front of you. You were already fully naked, and he’d forgotten the fact that he still had one article of clothing left to lose.

“You okay?” you asked, growing concerned at his silence. He nodded, responding by pulling his boxers down over his cock, which grew slowly against his abdomen.

He was just as you expected, veins bulging at his hardness, following the shape of his curvature to the wetted pink head.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, eyes fixated on his cock. He was flushed a rosy shade of pink as you stared, aching to explore every inch of him. Felix greeted your compliment with a toothy smile.

With a newfound confidence, he leaned back down to kiss you, his bulge sitting patiently at the entrance of your sex.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, and he responded with a nod.

“I never got rid of this after health class,” Felix said, as he fished a silver packet out of the pocket of his jeans which hung off the bed.

“You’re such a nerd,” you replied, and he laughed lightly as he tore open the packet with his teeth.

You helped him slide the rubber down his length, careful not to pinch any part of his sensitive skin. His breathing was heavy, and you could tell he didn't have much time before he gave in.

“Ready?” Felix asked, as he positioned himself in front of you again.

“Ready,” you replied, and you both kept your eyes locked down below as he gripped his shaft and slid just the tip in.

“Oh god,” you remarked, surprised at the sensation even though he was barely in. “Does it hurt?” he panicked, and you shook your head. “Just a little. Do more, if you can.”

At this Felix, pulled out slightly, and then bucked his hips forward so that he was just barely halfway in.

“Fuck-” you heard, and you looked up to his eyelids shut tight and nose scrunched. His hair hung lazily around his face, sweat pooled at the ebony roots.

“Are you-” you began to ask if he was okay, when he slid out and let out a deep sigh.

“I finished,” he replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smiled in response, relaxing your hands by your side and sitting up.

“Don’t apologize, Felix. It’s just your body.”

You took note of the tears welling in his eyes, and your expression shifted to that of concern. “Felix?”

He wiped with the back of his hand, sitting back on your bed like a scolded child. “I didn’t mean to finish so fast. I wanted it to last. I didn’t come here for sex, I promise. I just thought it would be a good idea and now it’s over and I did so badly.”

He hiccuped through tears, and you sat up to wipe them from his eyes. “You didn’t do badly, Felix. You did amazing. That was an amazing first time. Don’t apologize for a natural reaction. We’re not pros at this.”

He nodded slowly, sniffling and looking around for his shirt. “Well I guess I’ll go,” he said rather dryly.

You knew he was going to beat himself up for this, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Felix, don’t go,” you said. “I’m not letting you leave like this.”

“I already ruined things,” he responded.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said. “Plus, we always have next time?”

You surprised yourself with your own remark, blushing as he locked his eyes on yours again.

“Next time?” he questioned, his voice still frail and quiet.

You nodded. “I mean… if you want to? As friends, of course. I liked it,” you shrugged.

The last of his tears trickled down his cheeks as a small smile grew back on his face, illuminating the room with comfort once again.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like to do it again.”

You nodded, mirroring his smile. “Then we can do it again. It’s not a big deal, right?”

He shook his head, wiping tears with the back of his hand. “Just… practice I guess? That’s all it is.”

You nodded. “Just practice. Exactly.”

With bleary eyes, Felix rid himself of the condom and clothed himself again, pulling his shirt over his head and buttoning his jeans back how they were. You laid on your side, still nude in your bed, one hand tucked under your cheek, still entranced by the way the sun kissed Felix’s freckles in the June air. You hummed softly as the birds chirped outside, the sounds starkly contrasting the filthy moans emitting from your room just moments earlier.

“I’ll see you later?” he said, turning to you, his eyes flickering curiously to your chest and and between your thighs again. You tugged the sheets up to your chin, keeping your gaze on him for a minute.

“Busy later, remember?”

He nodded once. “Right. Are your parents home tonight? Or… what are you doing tomorrow?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his helpless words. “Gosh Felix, you’re needy already. I’ll call you okay? I’m not gonna leave you hanging.”

He smiled in response, cocking his head to one side and taking one last look at you.

He’d never seen you like this, more skin showing than ever before. The way your mascara pooled around your eyes from shutting your eyes in pleasure. The way the last of the sun rays set little orange patches aglow on your olive skin, highlighting your clavicles like an oil painting. The way your smile said so much yet so little at the same time, as if to tell him you’ll be right here the next time. And the next, and the next- and hopefully several times after that.

He wanted nothing more than to touch himself and stay in for round two, but he was dying to go home and shower the lingering embarrassment off his body. With nothing else to say, he raised two fingers and gave a little salute, trying to send you off in the most casual manner he could, fearing you might change your mind about there being a next time.

“Catch ya later,” he said a bit awkwardly, and turned on his heel to stride out of your bedroom.

You said nothing in response, shutting your eyes and letting the evening drowsiness overtake you.

“You should hear when you’re not around, when it’s just us horny poets”

It didn’t take long before you and Felix were fucking like rabbits for the remainder of summer.

Handjobs on your porch when it was too early in the morning to be caught. Blowjobs in the backseat of his car, Felix strategically parking on little off roads where no one could interrupt, while his hands pulled mercilessly at your hair. Kisses all over your neck during movie nights, where you’d fold almost immediately and wind up under him for the remainder of- what was that film again? You’re not sure. You were sure of his nimble fingers, and the way his lips could work up just about anything out of you.

You’re sure he’d been studying pornography, the way his lips pressed little butterfly kisses all over your aching pussy, coming up to suckle your clit and spread your juices all over your thighs with more hungry kisses and nibbles.

Felix even felt comfortable enough to present you some of the videos he got off to, shyly angling his phone at you mid-makeout session, inquiring about your interest in sucking off his fingers. You challenged him, making him suck your fingers instead, while you edged him over his sweatpants. Note: he really liked that move.

The two of you were different tunes working in perfect harmony, your erotic ideas playing off of each other, resulting in some of your most intense memories together.

Not every idea worked out as you’d planned, but the time was never wasted. Nights where you couldn’t finish from penetration alone, he’d spend hours working you up with an old massager, his deep voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fondled your breasts.

His words were so carefully picked, diligently selected from your favorite erotic fiction works you’d send him. “You like that? Is your pussy aching for me? Always so wet when I touch you. Could do this for hours…could hear you moan for hours.”

His breath tickled your neck, the sound of his own labored breathing growing louder and then quieter again as he’d brush his lips over your ear and fill your mind with little moans and filthy thoughts.

And the nights would always end safely. He’d bring his signature baked goods, massaging you in his lap as he fed you little bites of brownies and cookies and pies.

His words never stopped at sex, showering you with compliments and sweet nothings even if not to arouse you. “You did so well today. Thanks for letting me try that. I’m sorry if it hurts. Let’s try something more gentle tomorrow, yeah?”

And the weeks you couldn’t have sex, Felix never seemed to mind all too much. Sometimes he’d let you watch him pleasure himself, sometimes he’d brush off the idea all together. The stories you shared, and the laughs you got out of each other, were reason enough to spend just about every passing second together.

2:15am.

Felix pulled out, rolling over on his back again, letting out an exasperated sigh and shutting his eyes.

“Fuck. That was good. Are you okay?”

He forced an eyelid open, glancing over at your still lying body, too tired to speak but nodding through labored breaths.

“Yeah,” you managed a minute later.

The two of you remained like that for a few minutes, basking in the silence of the atmosphere around you. The world was quiet without the loud moans and cuss words that erupted when you were normally together.

And then came the sniffles.

When you began fucking, you quickly understood that you were learning things about Felix that maybe nobody knew before you. Not even Felix himself. Like how he scrunched his nose right before he finished, his open mouth following shortly after. The way he apologized after he let out an accidental slut or whore in the bedroom. They helped him get off on occasion, but he detested the thought of you internalizing the words. Or maybe the way his hands cramped quickly when he fingered you- he wasn’t used to using his hands as much as his legs or upper body. Soccer player problems.

But the most interesting thing you’d come to discover about Felix was his tendency to cry after sex.

Mornings, afternoons in his car, quickies in your room, it didn’t matter. 90 percent of the time, he’d cry after finishing, his whole face contorting into that of a guilty boy’s, eyes reddening as they welled with tears and found their home on the sleeves of his sweaters or corners of your sheets.

The second time it happened, you grew concerned for him, thinking it was something you’d done. You tried to break things off, saying “maybe this isn’t a good idea” and “I don’t want to do this if you’re not emotionally ready for it.”

But that only made him cry harder. Wrapping you in his arms and letting out gentle sobs in your knees. Begging you not to go, that he’d work on himself instead.

It never stopped, and although Felix tried to vocalize it, you always felt sorry for him.

“Sorry,” he’d explain through sobs. “Just felt so good.”

You never invalidated his feelings, always simply nodding at his words and holding him for as long as he needed to be held.

The truth is, Felix felt emotions so deeply, deeper than even he himself was capable of handling. The orgasms were an emotional high for him every time, pure bliss exiting his body and filling yours, you returning the favor with your praises for him.

When he came down from his high, it snapped him back to reality to remember that this was all temporary. That he’d be gone soon, that you’d be fucking somebody else in this bed within the next few weeks. That he didn’t buy you flowers, nor did he properly introduce himself to your parents, although you weren’t dating. That you’d be so generous to try just about anything with him, going at it for hours to determine what the two of you liked and didn’t like. That you sacrificed your body for his pleasure on nights you weren’t as horny as he was, and that you never made a fuss when he made a mess of you and your sheets.

That you held him after sex every time, massaging his hair with a gentle caress, telling him about how “amazing he did” and that he was “so, so good to you.”

And through tear-stained eyes, he’d do the same for you, thanking you until sleep overtook you both.

Tonight was no different.

“Hey, hey,” you said to him soothingly. “Come here.”

He sat up, face in his hands for a moment as he let out quiet sobs and shook his head. “It’s no use. I can’t st-stop c-crying…” choked sobs trailed his voice away from you.

“Felix, you did so well. You always do. Are you overwhelmed? Talk to me,” you said, sitting up to embrace him.

He turned to hug you back, tears falling on your bare shoulder as you shushed him and pressed little kisses to his forehead.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You’d heard it a million times from him, but he always felt the need to justify himself to you.

“Don’t apologize,” you told him. “Don’t apologize for your body. Do you want to grab something to eat? I know it’s late, but McDonald’s is still open.”

He wiped his tears away for the second time today, nodding as you reached over and handed him his sweatshirt.

When his tears came to a halt, he smiled at you and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your temple. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I know it’s the least sexy thing you can do after an orgasm.”

You smiled back at him, standing up to gather your clothes from where they’d fallen. “Hey, I don’t care if you want to do your taxes after sex. I had fun, you had fun. That’s all that matters.”

Felix always admired your ability to downplay everything. No reaction of his was too much when he was around you. He felt normal, comfortable. Safe.

“Just gonna grab a new pair of underwear,” you said to him. “I’ll meet you back at the car.”

Felix nodded, scrambling out of the tangled sheets of your bed and grabbing his car keys.

As he exited your room, you took careful note of your disheveled appearance in the mirror. Bruises, messy hair, puffy lips. Tear-stained shoulders.

“Okay,” you began. “If you had to pick what you’d want your dorm mates to be like, what would you say?”

You popped a french fry in your mouth, watching as Felix thought over the question.

“I’d say…” his Australian accent was thick as he pondered for a moment. “I dunno, maybe outgoing? I guess I’m not the most extroverted so I need some balance.”

You laughed. “Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes outgoing can be a veiled statement for annoying.”

He scrunched his nose at you. “Oh god. More annoying than me? I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

You slapped his arm playfully. “You’re right, I think you already beat them in that department.”

He remarked a sarcastic haha at you, taking a sip of his McFlurry before crossing his legs onto his seat.

“What about you- what do you hope the people at university are like?”

You swallowed, giving a small shrug. “I hope they make me feel comfortable.”

His eyes remained on you for a second, and you continued your response. “I just want to experience everything. I want to go bar-crawling with my friends at 2am. I want to go to parties, and study at the library for finals with a group of people who make it all worth it. I just want that typical experience.”

He nodded, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

He was reminded again that he wasn’t going to be a part of your university experience. You were going to meet new people, make new friends. Fuck new guys. And he wouldn’t be around to be part of any of it.

“You know,” Felix began. “I’m rooting for you. Even though I won’t be here to see how it all plays out.”

You pulled your lips into a thin smile, nodding. “I know you are. I don’t doubt that.”

“And,” you continued. “I’m rooting for you. I’ll be tuned in to all the programs they put you on. I’ll shoot you little messages about your silly stage outfits here and there. The whole kpop fan image? That’s going to be me, like, times a million. Maybe I’ll drag around your album everywhere I go.”

He laughed at the idea, tossing his head back. “Hey, don’t speak too soon. If things fall through I’ll be back in less than a month. I don’t even speak Korean. Got a lot of learning to do.”

You waved him off. “You’ll catch on. I know you will.”

He held your gaze for a moment, smiling again before leaning in to kiss you. His lips tasted like oreos, and yours lingered of salty fries.

“2 weeks,” he said when he pulled away. “I can’t believe how fast this summer went by.”

You agreed with a slight tilt of your head.

He glanced out the window briefly. The cicadas had gotten quieter now that August drew to a close. You were at the usual spot you hooked up at, parked in his car across a vista point just off the highway. The view overlooked a canyon of trees, which looked like something out of a horror movie at this hour of the night.

He looked back at you and nodded in the direction of the backseat, a gesture you knew very well. You climbed over the center console, already pulling off your sweatpants and adjusting yourself so your legs were propped open.

Felix followed after you, slipping off his jeans and pulling you onto his lap.

Hasty kisses met your lips and neck as he gripped your waist and massaged little circles into the dimples that met your lower back. He let little moans meet your mouth as you palmed his already-hard cock through his boxers, rocking back and forth on his thigh to stimulate yourself first.

One hand reached up and snaked two fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” he instructed.

You wrapped desperate fingers around his wrist, pressing little kisses to the pads of his fingers before slipping them in and out of your drooly mouth. He didn’t break eye contact as you hollowed your cheeks and stared at him through long lashes, moving slowly and savoring the taste of his soft skin.

“Good,” he said, and you released him with a gentle pop, a string of saliva connecting him to you still.

He licked a stripe along his fingers too, sharing the flavor of your needy spit, before reaching down and moving your underwear aside.

You gasped as a finger pressed hastily to your clit, rubbing little hearts as he usually did, which he knew drove you wild. He rubbed back and forth, grazing down your slit and back up again, before finding his way to your entrance.

Felix gently inserted a first, and then a second finger, inside your soaking cunt, using his thumb to graze your clit and make you emit breathy moans from the sensation.

“Fuck,” you breathed, watching him tilt his head to one side.

“That feel good? Hmm?” He cooed with a smile, already knowing the answer by your pleasured response.

You nodded, eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he moved faster. Felix nodded with you as you gripped his wrist, digging nail marks into his veiny forearm.

“Felix, would you fuck me?” you asked him politely, your breathing speeding up.

“Hmm? I am fucking you, sweetheart.” The pet names, god, the pet names. He knew exactly what they did to you.

“Want your cock in me,” you specified, gripping his wrist again to slow his pace. He hummed in response, moving a strand of hair out of your face and pressing little kisses to your exposed neck.

Feeling he’d teased you enough, Felix pulled his boxers down and tossed them aside, gasping as you jerked him twice and thumbed at his tip.

“Fuck, stop,” he begged you. “I don’t want to finish yet.”

You, nodded removing your panties with ease and waiting patiently as he slid a condom efficiently over his length and positioned himself. Before you could lay back and spread, he gripped your waist again, lifting you onto his lap and rubbing against your soaking slit.

“Wanna fuck up into you,” he said. “Wrap your arms around me.”

You did as told, grabbing hold of his warm gray hoodie and taking a deep breath as he lowered you on to him.

Felix let out a hearty moan, soaking in how good it felt. You’d ridden him once before, but this was something else. Needy hands grabbed at each other, making desperate attempts to grope your flesh and bring you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back and syncopated with your breathing as he lifted you down on to him and bucked his hips up into you.

You felt every inch of his cock twitching inside of you, about to fill you up before you caressed his jaw and pleaded. “Don’t move,” you instructed. “I just want to feel you for a second.”

Felix did as told, slowing his thrusts down and reciprocating as you leaned down for a sloppy kiss. His cock pulsated against your already throbbing clit, sending shivers down your spine as you kissed him again, and again. Making him feel every ounce of your want for him and only him.

His mouth was wet with drool, giant sultry eyes so full of want and need for your body. When you pulled away, you took in his face for a second. Although it was dark, you could still make out the flush of his cheeks around his freckles. Dark strands of hair hung loosely around his jaw, and the musk of his cologne filled the air as he sweated profusely in the steamy car.

“Okay,” you said finally. “Cum in me. Please.”

The words were all it took before Felix thrust up into you again, his nose scrunching and mouth agape as he shot thick, white strands of his pleasure into the rubber.

You let out a breathy sigh as he slid out of you, tying up the condom and tossing it aside.

But you didn’t move from off of him, instead holding him and pressing little kisses to his forehead. Like clockwork, the tears began to flow. You kissed them back up his cheeks, letting the salty taste melt on your already salted tongue.

“It’s okay,” you assured, and he sniffled with innocent puppy-dog eyes that looked up at you. You wrapped a hand around his hair, pulling him closer and ruffling his locks with empathy. “You okay? That was really good.”

He nodded, wiping his tears with sleeves that enveloped his hands like little paws. “Felt really good,” he said, letting out another choked sob.

“I know,” you replied. “I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

It was usually at this point that Felix’s crying began to lessen, but he started crying even harder at your consolation.

“Felix?” you asked, getting worried with his growing sadness. He nuzzled his face into your neck, letting tears fall to your neck and wet your hoodie.

“Don’t forget me,” he said suddenly, and you were taken aback by his pleading tone.

You pushed him away, tilting his chin up to meet yours again.

“Felix,” you said. “Nothing could ever make me forget you. You’re my best friend. We’ll see each other again.”

He nodded, but a smile was still absent from his expression.

You pulled him in for another hug, rubbing circles into his hoodie and shushing him gently.

“My star,” you cooed tenderly. “Could never forget you.”

Your hands grazed the back of his neck as he held you too, feeling small and vulnerable, but safe. Always safe.

“You may not like it, but you better learn how, ‘cause it’s your turn now”

Felix left on a Thursday.

It was a dark September morning, the day too early to reveal what the weather would bring. He wore a hoodie and his favorite sweatpants, looking especially boyish with a bulky pair of headphones around his neck, his sleek black hair pushed back with a headband. One of yours- one he’d found in the backseat of his car.

He packed the remainder of his bags, glancing over at your street in the chill of the September air as his mom loaded the car with his belongings.

I’ll see her soon, he assured himself. After all, you had promised you wouldn’t forget him.

The day prior was spent with his family, enjoying one last home-cooked meal with his mom and sisters. They exchanged a few gifts they’d generously picked for him, knowing they’d miss his 19th birthday, just 2 weeks out from his departure date.

Felix cried at the gesture, the idea of a birthday spent alone suddenly filling him with dread.

And after double counting his bags, his family was off to sleep. “Don’t use your phone,” his mother had remarked several times. “We need to be at the airport very early tomorrow.”

And when he was sure she was asleep, little snores confirming his theory, Felix climbed out of his window and disappeared into the dimly lit streets, mentally apologizing to his mom for disobeying every one of her orders.

The air was more unforgiving than when he’d escaped in the summer months, painting little goosebumps on his bare arms and showing his breath back to him when he exhaled.

Still, he ran. He ran and ran, and he didn’t waste a second booking it to your place.

Your window was left ajar as it usually was, you sitting up in bed with a book. When the crunch of leaves drew your attention to the paned glass, you knew exactly who it was.

Felix usually did his best to lead into your sessions as a gentleman would, inquiring about your day and sharing little bits of his. But his heartbeat quickened with every passing second, knowing this was it. This was the last time he’d have you for who knew how long, and his body ached for yours already.

You wasted no time helping him climb inside, already attaching your lips to his, as he guided you back into your bed.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, slipping off your nightgown too, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and moaning against your soft skin.

He wanted to say something, he wanted so badly to tell you how sorry he was for brushing past your day, that he did in fact care, but that he needed all of you first. He wanted to apologize for all the times he ignored you in the hallways back at school, mentally punishing himself for not being a more prominent part of your teenage years sooner. He wanted to tell you that Oreo McFlurries all tasted like you now, and they always would. For as long as he remembered you.

Your hands in his hair brought him back to the moment, and he wasted no time attaching his drooly tongue to your clit, moving back and forth like a starving animal eating for the first time in days.

His licks turned into saliva-filled kisses, wrapping his lips around your clit and making loud sucking noises as he pulled back and left no inch of your folds untasted. Between his licking and ravenous kisses, you felt your body tense as you reached your high. It must’ve been a new record, you thought to yourself, as your legs trembled and you leaked cum all over his pretty face.

Your orgasm was intoxicating, but your need for him kept you aching, and you knew you had a lot more left in you still.

Felix’s mouth met yours again, letting you taste yourself on his wet lips. He smiled in between kisses, trailing kisses down to your breasts and suckling each nipple with soft hums.

“Gonna make you feel so good tonight,” he said for the first time tonight, in between breathless kisses. “Just lay back. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

You shivered at his words, an agreement you normally didn’t do when you linked. You always returned the favor in one way or another, but tonight, he wanted to prove himself to you.

As he pressed kisses down your torso, he complimented you between gasps for air, making you giggle as you looked down at him. “So… beautiful…” he’d say. “So soft… love how you’re always ready for me…”

His mouth found his way to your clit again, and you didn’t care that you were already overstimulated from your first orgasm. He kissed you all over, paying careful attention to your swollen clit, moaning as you stifled screams and gasps.

Felix tasted you for what felt like hours. You’d finished all over him a total of three times already, and well into the fourth, you pulled him up by his hair. “Need you,” you said, your insides aching to clench around him just once.

He didn’t waste any time demanding you specify your words, knowing exactly what you wanted from him. His boxers were stained with dark gray spots of wetness, and you realized he must’ve been aching for you too. The thought of his straining bulge made you even wetter for him, if that was even possible.

Hoisting your legs up around his waist, Felix wrapped himself up and thrusted into you with more force than you’d felt from him before. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your nails scratching red marks all over his forearms.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pausing for a moment. You shook your head no, moving a strand of hair out of his face.

With that, he thrust into you again, and again, loud moans and whimpers escaping his lips like you’d never heard before. As he watched your fucked-out expression, he snaked a hand around your throat, lining your eyesight up with his.

“Look at me,” he demanded. You kept your gaze on him, pondering how this was the same person who so delicately kissed you and held your hand when you weren’t underneath him like this.

“You gonna miss me?” he asked between rhythmic thrusts. You nodded.

“You gonna think of me when you touch yourself?” he asked, and your heartbeat quickened at his tone.

“Yes,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

“You gonna tell me when you’re all wet and needy for me? You gonna touch yourself and think of how I fucked you?”

Your heartbeat kept quickening, his words both dizzying and unexpected.

“Felix…” you said, but your voice trailed off as he quickened his pace again.

“Say it again,” he ordered.

“Felix.”

“Louder. Want the neighbors to hear how good I fuck you.”

“Felix!” You said louder as he moved even faster, your nails clawing into his back as your own voice filled your ears.

When you opened your eyes, his nose was scrunched in pleasure, followed by his plump lips parted, which chased his high. He moaned for what seemed like several minutes, thrusting himself empty, and slowing inside of you, making sure you were completely overstimulated before pulling out.

You sat up quickly, knowing he was going to cry himself silly tonight. As you pressed your hands to his cheeks, already rubbing your thumbs at his lashes, he nuzzled into you and pulled you closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaky with overwhelming sadness already.

But this time, you felt yourself start to cry, too. Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him, holding you like a small child clutches a teddy bear, crying into your knees and letting little sobs escape his parted lips. When he heard your sniffles, he looked up at you, pouting through tears at the sight. It was his turn to pull you close, placing a gentle hand to the back of your head and holding you close to his chest, afraid he might break you if he didn’t maintain his fragile embrace.

He didn’t ask why you cried. He just stayed like that, holding you close to him, listening to your quiet sobs like music and grazing his hands over the skin he’d previously bruised and made a mess of.

3:56am.

Felix hadn’t meant to lose track of time this badly, and you knew he was supposed to leave for the airport in just an hour.

“Felix,” you said to him. “I didn’t mean to keep you up this late…”

He shook his head firmly, wiping his cheeks with the corner of your sheets.

“I can sleep on the plane,” he responded. His eyes were puffy and red, and you thumbed over his eyelids in attempts to soothe the irritated skin.

You pulled away, sliding out of your bed and pulling on your nightgown. “Have a little surprise for you,” you said, hoping to get at least a smile out of him before he left tonight.

It worked, his lips pulled into a curious grin as he slipped a shirt on himself, too.

“What is it?,” Felix remarked.

You didn’t respond, instead digging through your drawers and pulling out a small tube.

You tossed it over to him, his skilled fingers catching it quickly and observing it under the moonlight peering through the window.

“Your chapstick!” he said with a smile. “Raspberry.”

You smiled back at him and shrugged. “Little taste of home.”

He twisted the tube between his slender fingers for a bit, uncapping it and bringing it up to his swollen lips.

You watched as he glided the cherry color across his smile, running over the tint with his tongue and smacking his lips together lightly.

“Tastes like you,” he remarked.

You shrugged again with a smile. “We match now.”

You urged Felix to go home and get at least an hour of sleep, but he refused defiantly, asking to be held in your blankets until he had to leave.

So you did. And for the last time he was able to, Felix asked about your day. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, careful not to blink excessively in case he missed the way your face lit up at the mention of your future college life. He took note of the way your chest rose and fell with slow breaths, clearly tired but not enough to leave his side.

You told him all about what you still had to pack before leaving for university. About the book you started this morning, the second one in a trilogy. You recounted your favorite songs, suggesting a few to him, which he added to a playlist for his flight.

The two of you reminisced the summer days, which had slipped by you in the blink of an eye, taking all your carefree thoughts with them. You voiced your favorite moments in his car- both sexual escapades and late-night McDonald’s runs, and he shared his own discoveries and favorite moments back to you.

He said he hoped your next lover would appreciate the smell of your raspberry lips as much as he did. And you silently wished he’d find someone who held him after intense sessions the way you learned he needed.

But before you knew it, the clock read 4:48am.

You knew Felix’s mom would be waking him any moment now, and he needed to be back in his own bed fast.

“Go,” you said, as he propped himself up and scanned over your alarm clock once again. “You’ll get in trouble.”

You followed as he slid out from your warm comforter, fixing up his hair and towering over you.

With a straight, yet heavy expression, he looked down and tilted your chin up with one finger, placing a gentle kiss to your lips and pulling away after a few seconds.

“It was fun,” you said, and he smiled in response, though saying nothing back.

You followed him back to the window, where he hoisted himself over the ledge and back into the cool September air.

Turning on his heel, Felix brought two fingers up to his forehead, giving you a little salute and a smile.

“Catch ya later,” he said, and disappeared again into the morning fog.

You hoped so. You really, really hoped so.

“I’m starting to suspect you don’t intend to do anything you say at all.”

The months that followed were tainted heavily by Felix’s absence. The lulling clouds and light drizzles that spanned far into November reminded you that the seasons did in fact change, whether you wanted them to or not.

Your college dorm was small and cramped, and the smooth white walls felt like that of a prison most days. But your roommate was nice, and the two of you hit it off fast. Late nights were spent snacking in the dining hall, where the two of you would gossip about the boys you shared classes with, making lewd remarks that remained a fun game between the two of you.

You spent most of your days in the library, a favorite spot of yours on the 8th floor that overlooked the busy streets and provided ample content to people-watch.

And you never heard from Felix.

You didn’t reach out, knowing he was busier than ever, his phone usage probably monitored heavily by the executives there. And such was life- the summer interactions like the games you now played with your new college roommate; between the two of you, and not meant to be an object of permanence by any means.

But some days, you took it harder than others.

Some days you were angry with yourself for sacrificing so much, barely recognizing the curves and birthmarks that painted your nude frame, upset that anyone had ever touched them.

Other days, you stifled toothy smiles in the palms of your hands, when you remembered the activities both of you got up to that summer. Some of the most incredulous, dirty-minded positions came flooding back to your memory, and no one around you would ever suspect such a pristine girl to have tried the things she did.

You did touch yourself to the memories of them, hoping your roommate wouldn’t hear the little gasps you let out with your hands between your thighs at such an ungodly hour. But as time passed on, the memories were less vivid, melting colors and tastes into obscurity, until you couldn’t get off to them anymore.

And then one day in your second year, Mark entered your life.

At first, you were convinced there had to be a catch, when he approached you in the library to borrow a pencil, slipping his phone number to you in exchange.

His dusty blue hair and stylish outfit had caught your eye in passing once, but you’d never considered the possibility of him noticing you.

Yet that he did, sealing his action with a closed-mouth smile, gesturing to your phone and miming a texting gesture at you. “Yo, like, you should text me or something. I always see you around here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, fascinated with the casual way he talked.

“I don’t even know your name,” you remarked jokingly.

“Oh my bad,” he said, reaching a hand out to you. “I’m Mark. My friends usually call me Mark.”

You laughed again, meeting his hand halfway with yours and shaking once. “Y/n.”

“Dang, that’s a cool name,” he said. “It totally suits you.”

You cocked your head slightly, his words igniting a spark in you. “I’d hope so,” you replied. “Had it for 20 years.”

“Oh cool, you’re like a year younger than me,” he replied. “Second year?”

You nodded, taking in his features for a second. His warm smile and doe eyes were inviting, yet the way his chiseled jawline framed strands of sapphire hair was hot.

You stayed quiet for a second, before he broke the silence. “Listen, I gotta head to my evening class. But would you wanna like, grab a coffee or something? Or like, maybe get dinner? It’s a 3-hour lecture so I’ll be out kinda late but I’m probably gonna grab some takeout-”

His rambling was endearing. You cut him off with an eager nod, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll like, totally text you. Yo.” you said.

With an amused smile, you looked back once as you made your way to the elevator and disappeared between the twin doors. He kept his gaze on you from across the room, sticking his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and smiling back.

The amusing encounter was the start of a whole new chapter for you.

“How quickly they turn sour, so be careful who you screw.”

College came and went quicker than you imagined it would. What took years of mental preparation seemed to fly by, the end of every semester always catching you by surprise.

You and Mark stuck together through the end of your college career. While he graduated a year earlier than you, he still visited every week of your last year, bringing you iced coffee and showering you with kisses as you studied in your same spot at the library. His friends also took a liking to you, and you were happier than you’d ever been before when you were around him.

Mark graduated with a degree in biology, getting a prestigious post-college internship at a research institution almost immediately after graduating. You completed your courses in business, excelling in all of them, grateful you had so many friends and a loving boyfriend for a support system.

And then you graduated, walking the stage in a dark blue dress (per Mark’s request), basking in the cheers of Mark and his friends, who made obnoxious neon signs and bought you the biggest gift basket you’d ever seen.

You began your work at a small ad agency, spending hours producing digital ads and writing pieces, coming home to your little shared apartment with Mark. It was a dingy box on the South Side, but with a little decorating, the two of you fell in love with the way it brought you closer together.

You enjoyed the months you couldn’t afford a mattress yet, keeping each other warm on the carpeted floor and using spare jackets as blankets. You bargained for furniture at secondhand shops, scoring the jackpot when you picked up the velvet couch of your dreams, one which you’d quickly come to spend most of your time on. The little kitchen table that only seated two, which proved a problem when you had friends over. But one that the two of you enjoyed home-cooked meals and greasy takeout on together, every night that you possibly could.

Mark was gentle with you. He was funny, outgoing, and smarter than anyone you’d ever known. You wondered sometimes what you did to deserve him. The two of you grew up together, much like you and Felix once did.

After graduation, Mark dyed his hair black for the first time in years, which you simply couldn’t get enough of. You lost weight after college, transitioning your closet from comfortable hoodies and sweatpants to dresses and blouses. The two of you coordinated outfits on errand days, which his friends never ceased teasing you for.

And you were happy. Truly and honestly happy.

One rainy Wednesday night, Mark took you out, deeming it a celebratory event following your raise at work.

“Here’s to… money,” Mark said with a smile, bringing his glass up to yours with a little clink.

You weren’t hard to please, requesting the celebratory meal be at your favorite ramen shop a couple blocks away. Mark insisted on something fancier, but let you pick your first choice in the end. He never pressured you, one of the many things you loved about him.

In between slurping noodles and telling tales of work, you were interrupted by music playing on the television high on the wall, drowning out Mark’s story with loud rap.

“Jeez,” you remarked. “Can’t they lower that? That’s so annoying.”

Mark adjusted his body toward the tv, bobbing his head at the thumping beat. “I dunno, I kinda like it.”

You scoffed. “This garbage? You’re crazy.”

He kept his eyes glued to the tv, eyebrows furrowed in a teasing manner as he continued to bob his head along and ad-lib the loud singing.

“Maniac... Maniac,” he hummed along, laughing at the screen and craning his head to keep watching.

You watched too, eyes glued to the colorful outfits and coordinated dancing. Your eyes scanned over the lyrics on the screen, realizing at this point that the song wasn’t in English.

if you think I’m just pure and innocent, you’re wrong,

when a favor continues, people think it’s their right, toxic,

this is what drives me crazy, warning

As a deep voice filled the room, your eyes remained glued to the figure in a green coat and purple beanie, heart stopping briefly in your chest while your mind raced a million miles per minute.

The familiarity of every feature grazed your conscience with a rude awakening.

You watched as the screen panned to someone with red hair, and another with purple hair. It was a few seconds before you spotted him again, a longer shot of him looking up at impressive skyscrapers. But it confirmed your theory.

It was Felix.

Mark’s singing began to annoy you now, the whole restaurant flooding with the same catchy chorus, most eaters now also craning their necks to watch the colorful group dance in sync.

“Could you stop?” you said suddenly, and Mark turned to you with a confused expression.

“Stop what?” he asked, questioning your sudden change of tone.

You didn’t answer, prodding at the noodles left in your bowl with chopsticks. The song overhead finished, transitioning to a slower song sung by a Korean woman this time.

“Y/n?” Mark asked again, waving a hand in front of you as your brows furrowed relentlessly at the dinner in front of you.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I was talking to my chopsticks. Sorry.”

Mark nodded, glancing back up at the screen and evidently thinking nothing of it. “She’s good,” he said. “Do you think she’s actually playing the piano?”

You didn’t answer, your brain and heart still racing with emotions that made you want to scream from atop a skyscraper. Any appetite you previously had for celebration dissipated quickly.

Their group wasn’t bad. Not by any means.

You did your research carefully, strategically logging out of your shared Youtube account with Mark to binge their music videos and interviews.

Felix seemed to have gone through a million different hair colors already. Black, green, silver, red, pink, even a long blonde wig which you liked more than you cared to admit.

You watched his interviews, picking him out from the group of 8 every time, keeping your focus on his mannerisms and crafted responses to superficial questions.

You quickly came to realize not much had changed about him. They dubbed him brownie boy- a name which you chuckled at in a melancholy tone, remembering the taste of them all too well. He loved dancing. He smiled after almost everything he said. His freckles were still his most prominent feature.

He even spoke of his hometown, telling an interviewer how much he’d hoped to visit again someday. Something you scoffed at, knowing all too well he must be too caught up in the glitz and glamor to give two shits about all of this.

It became an addiction for a few weeks, picking apart anything he said and interpreting where he’d been, what he’d seen out there. Who he might have fucked after you.

But the clips pointed you nowhere, filling your mind with useless knowledge about his various taekwondo medals and first impressions of his members.

And just like it entered, your new fixation exited your routine suddenly.

You tossed your phone on your bed one night, letting out an exasperated sigh after closing three tabs of useless articles and finding nothing in them.

“You good?” Mark asked.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Just stressed.”

He turned to face you, placing his phone down by his pillow as well.

“Is it that new thing at work?”

You rested your cheek on your hand, turning to face him too, noting the genuine look of care in his widened eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Something like that.”

He held his gaze on yours for a minute, his eyes stretching into a smile as he let out a little laugh.

“Well you know I’m always here for you. Do you want to, like, talk about it or something?”

You smiled back at him, shaking your head in response.

There was no feasible explanation as to why you were bothered by the whole thing. The whole affair was nearly 5 years old now- you were a completely different person at that time. Maybe it was the idea of giving your body to someone who was so unchanged by it, he’d moved on to a whole new life without so much as a phone call. You loved Mark. You wouldn’t trade the relationship between you two for anything- or rather, anyone. But the pent up anger from being a side piece to someone who only pretended to care about you to get in your pants was hard to ignore.

“Y/n?” Mark interrupted, and your gaze snapped back to his, humming in question.

“I asked if you were in the mood tonight.” He repeated shyly.

“Oh, uh. Yeah! Sure.” You tried to slide your shorts off awkwardly, the knot on your waistband getting stuck as you rushed to fulfill his ask.

“Stupid pants,” you said, fumbling clumsily with them and quickly getting angry.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m kinda beat anyway.”

You fiddled with the knot some more, keeping your gaze away from his now, hoping he wouldn’t notice any change in your demeanor.

“No no, it’s cool,” you replied dryly. “Seriously, I want to.”

Mark reached over, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and retying the string on your pajama shorts.

“I’m not doing anything when you’re all distracted. It’s not right. Go to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go somewhere for breakfast, yeah?”

With one hand gently grazing over your stomach, he reached over your small frame, turning out the lamp and pulling you closer as darkness washed over the room. A small sliver of moonlight through the window shone over your face, and you hoped Mark wouldn’t notice the single tear running down your cheek.

“Do the wires in your mind get sewn together, rubbed and severed by the heat?”

The whole thing was stupid. You knew that, and you couldn’t keep doing this to Mark.

He’d been there for you since the start of your life without Felix, and you never had to doubt the love he had for you. Mark was a permanent fixture in your otherwise monotonous life and the only interesting thing about it, at that.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of reminding you to be grateful for what was here.

And that you were. You made it up to Mark several times since that week, surprising him with new lingerie sets when you could, and cooking a week’s worth of his favorite meals.

“It’s not even my birthday…” he’d always remark through hungry kisses, barely having time to set aside his briefcase before you dropped to your knees and finished him off right there in the hallway.

And things seemed to go back to normal.

Or at least you thought.

The business campaign you were working on was stressful- that, you hadn’t lied to Mark about.

Late nights turned into early mornings in front of your laptop, typing away at spreadsheets and pulling together presentation decks for your boss.

Mark typically knew when to leave you alone, only interrupting to bring you hot coffee and little snacks late into the night, until he’d fall asleep in the bedroom and wait for you to join. Sometimes, your work consumed your ability to sleep.

Tonight, after dinner, Mark tended to his usual routine of brewing you a cup of coffee, knowing it was going to be another late night for you.

Just a few more days of this, you promised him.

He wasn’t mad at your dedication to your work, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss cuddling in bed together.

“Shit,” you heard him say loudly. “We’re out of creamer.”

You glanced up over your laptop.

“Darn. I’ll just have it plain.”

He bent down to the first level of the fridge, peering around like a bottle might suddenly appear.

“Nah, I’ll go buy some. I’ll just be a few,” he said, closing the door and adjusting the knit black beanie on his head.

You looked up at him again, feeling a sense of guilt as he scanned the granite counter for his car keys.

“No no, you stay,” you said to him, lowering your laptop screen but not closing it fully. “I’ll go. I need a break anyway.”

He cocked his head a little. “I don’t even think the grocery store is open this late. Let me go to the convenience store and get one of those small cartons.”

You shook your head again, standing up and reaching for the keys that had been in your eyesight the whole time.

“I’ll go to the one further away. No biggie.”

Mark smirked a little as you pulled on your sneakers. “You’re getting in the way of my plan to secretly buy those cookies I like.”

You let out a gentle laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Was already on my shopping list, silly.”

“Love you!” He shouted behind you, laughing as you jokingly waved him off and made your way to your car.

Your favorite convenience store was a few minutes away, by your parents’ house. They didn’t have an extensive selection of groceries, but they did have vanilla coffee creamer, and Mark’s favorite cookies. And that was enough to keep you coming back.

It was the same convenience store you’d practically grown up at, piling rice balls and mochi donuts on the counter after every drunken night out.

So much that the staff knew you by name, often “forgetting” to scan an item or two and keeping it a secret from the store manager.

The little bell chime indicated your entrance, and right away you were met with enthusiastic greetings from the employees.

“Y/n!” the regular employee exclaimed, ushering you to the newly placed display of rice balls.

You chuckled in response. “Just here for creamer, actually! But that is very tempting.”

You made your way around the display to the fridge, grabbing two bottles and hastily finding your place in line.

Only two people stood in front of you, and you scrolled through social media on your phone as they rang up their items and trickled out of the store.

At your turn, you placed both bottles on the counter, suddenly remembering Mark’s cookies you’d forgotten. “Sorry, let me grab one more thing!”

You sauntered two aisles down to the cookies while the cashier scanned, and then stopped when you noticed one box left on the shelf. One that was already being carefully examined by another shopper.

Feeling a sense of discouragement, you pretended to look over the other options, knowing very well Mark didn’t like just any option. He was always very passionate in his request for jam-filled shortbreads.

The shopper stood tall, back faced to you, as they scanned the nutrition labels and shifted the box around in their grip.

Just decide, you urged them mentally.

“Excuse me, are there any more of those?” You spoke suddenly, surprising yourself with your rather sharp tone.

He turned on his heel, a serious expression on his face as his eyes met with the rushed voice.

And you knew immediately.

Despite the black beanie pulled snugly over his locks, oversized hoodie that swallowed his figure, and a thin black mask covering his nose and mouth, you knew in his eyes.

Almond brown eyes filled with warmth and intensity, offset by the familiar beige galaxies that scattered across his eyelids, the rest concealed by his dark mask. What a shame it was, to cover something so beautiful.

You could tell he knew, too, his gaze fixated on yours for a minute, saying nothing as he maintained his tenacious grip on the cardboard box. Your thoughts ran at a record pace, swirling around your head like harsh waves in a tsunami, searching for something- anything to cling on to.

Say nothing, you told yourself. Leave.

And before he could get a word out, you dropped your gaze to the tiled floor below him. “Nevermind. You can keep them.”

The convenience store spun all around you, much like the storm brewing in your head, as you practically sprinted back to the counter and slapped a twenty in front of the employee, who’d already bagged your coffee creamers.

“Keep the change,” you said to him, before snatching the bag off the counter and making a beeline for your car.

Your hands shook as you put the key in the ignition, seeing him exit the store out of your peripheral vision. Like a lost animal searching for safety, his head scanned over the cars in the parking lot, stopping in dismay as he recognized you again, this time through your foggy car window.

Your head remained straight, forced tunnel vision on the giant soda advert plastered on the window of the store in front of you.

And without so much as a glance in his direction, you made your way out of the lot and back toward your apartment.

Hours spent replaying the interaction in your head quickly turned to days, and Mark could tell once again that something wasn’t right. You felt yourself sink back into that place of uncertainty and unresolved doubts.

On top of that, your daily routine was beginning to drive you crazy. Wake up, work, come home, work.

Sleep. Repeat.

It also didn’t help that things between you and Mark had fallen tense in the past few weeks.

Nights you worked late, he often did too, staying at the lab for a few hours extra and coming home more tired than ever. You tried to initiate intimacy with him, but it seemed he was the one declining lately.

During your few minutes together before work, you broke the groggy silence to speak.

“I need to go to my parents’ for a few days.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, cocking his head while chewing his toast. “Your parents’ place? Like, across town? Why?”

You shrugged, swirling a spoon around in your bowl of cereal.

“I need some time. And space.”

He swallowed his bite of toast dramatically. “Are you- I mean, are we okay?”

You reassured him with a small smile. “Yeah, we’re okay. It’s just the stress of work and life. Want to make sure I get time to say hi to mom and dad, you know?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, for sure. When are you planning on going?”

You got up from your seat at the table, bringing your bowl to the sink and giving it a light rinse. “Tonight. I’m just gonna pack a bag and go straight there after work. I already let my boss know I’ll be out for a couple days.”

Mark nodded again. “Okay, well say hi to them for me. I’ll hold down the fort over here.”

You walked over to him, pressing a little kiss to his temple, and grabbed your laptop.

“We’re okay,” you repeated. “And I love you.”

He didn’t respond, looking down at his food as he pondered your words.

You left for work earlier than usual, stuffing a duffel bag of clothes in your trunk and letting your parents know you’d be there later. The work day went by slowly, projects and emails confirming that you did indeed need a few days away from all this. By the time the end of the day finally rolled around, you wasted no time booking it to your car and changing out your heels for a pair of sneakers.

Your childhood home was on the other side of town, but the rush hour of traffic on a Friday evening doubled the time it took for you to get there. When you did, mom was already out for her night shift, and dad wasn’t even home for the week.

Maybe coming here for the purpose of saying hi to mom and dad was a bit of a lie. But you had been honest to Mark about needing time and space. And several days off. Days you hoped to spend curled up in your childhood bed catching up on sleep.

Your room was largely unchanged. There were still little holes scattered on the walls from where your posters were hung with thumbtacks, but the walls remained void of any new decor. The carpet was the same too, down to the prominent coffee stain you’d gotten on it nearly a decade ago. Your window still gave a clear view of the streets beyond yours, framed artistically by overgrown vines in the front yard.

With a deep sigh, you leaned against the frame of the sill, soaking in the familiarity of it all. It was just like you remembered, and a part of you almost hoped you’d see something different. Maybe even someone.

There was no doubt that the room brought memories of Felix flooding right back. You still remembered the way he’d knock on your window, always giving three straight thumps so you’d know it was him. A habit you found funny, remembering that he’d warn you not to open the window for any less than 3 knocks- because “2 knocks could be a serial killer’s greeting. And one knock could be a bear.”

These walls had heard some of the most obscene confessions, seen some of the most indecorous outfits you’d wear for him and only him. And yet, you found solace in knowing that they also housed some of the most intimate crying sessions, giddy laughter, and a blossoming relationship that would follow you so many years later.

You stepped away from the window, finally making way to your bed and lying down with an exasperated sigh. Maybe a part of you hoped Felix was still in town. Maybe a part of you even came here on the off-chance he would come visit.

Thoughts you shoved to the back of your mind, not having the emotional capacity to deal with the idea that you longed to experience it all over again.

Mornings in your parents’ house were nothing like the way they were at Felix’s. Mom was always asleep for the day, having come home early in the morning from her shift. Dad usually wasn’t home.

Such was the way things were when you awoke the next morning, birds chirping outside your window to indicate the start of a new, sunny day. You rolled over in your tangled sheets, squinting heavy eyes at your alarm clock and catching a glimpse of the time.

9:46am.

You’d surprised yourself with how tired you were, stretching your limbs lazily and staring at the blank ceiling above you. When you finally sat up in bed, the smell of breakfast hit your nose instantly.

The house filled with scents of grilled meat and freshly brewed coffee, and you could make out the faint noises of the toaster popping and oil sizzling.

Mom must have prepared breakfast for your return today. You wasted no time putting on your house slippers and bolting out the door to greet her, already appreciative of her kind gesture. When you turned the corner into the kitchen, a foreign sight caught you off guard.

Your mom stood in front of the stove, scrambling eggs around in a frying pan as you’d predicted.

And sat at the dinner table, stuffing forkfuls of Canadian bacon and sips of hot coffee in his mouth, was Felix.

You audibly gasped, and Felix looked up from his plate to acknowledge you.

He wore a plain white t-shirt, his straight hair hung loosely around his face with no particular placement, yet still somehow perfectly styled.

A pair of silver earrings dangled by his neck as he looked up at you, mouth full of food. In an instant, he pushed his chair out from behind him and stood up, saying nothing as he continued to chew. Without the ability to talk, he gave you a small wave, which you ignored.

You were suddenly self-conscious of your own appearance, looking far too casual in a tank top and shorts, house slippers loudly announcing you’d only just woken up. Your hair was still in yesterday’s work bun almost falling out of the flimsy hair tie, and the lack of makeup was more than hard on the eyes.

Before he could finish chewing to get a sentence out, you shouted out to your mom, who still hadn’t noticed your arrival. “Taking a really important work call in the other room, could you keep it down please?”

She shouted back over the loud sounds of oil sizzling.

“Sure thing, but look who’s here! Ah, it’s burning! Hold on,” And she turned her attention back to the stove.

You looked over at Felix again, who’d finished chewing at this point, still standing awkwardly in front of his plate and fiddling his hands together like a lost child.

“Oh… it’s nice to meet you.” You said, with a little bow, turning around quickly and disappearing back into your room.

You refused to entertain this. You weren’t going to give him what he wanted, to pretend he was interested in your life just to get in your pants one more time. You’d humiliated yourself enough the first time.

Back in your room, you locked the door with force and shoved your desk chair under the knob, triple-checking to ensure it couldn’t be opened. You shut the blinds and hopped back into your bed, wrapping the comforter around you and trying your best to steady your breathing. But it was no use; the tears began anyway.

You can’t remember how long you cried- it must have been hours before you drifted off to sleep again. When you woke up for the second time that day, it was well past 5 in the afternoon.

Your skin was sticky with sweat and your hair was begging to be let out of its knotted mess. When you rolled out of bed, a pounding headache made itself present. Crying and sleeping for hours were always a lethal combination.

After a long shower and some time to think it over, you felt small and stupid again. Were you doing the right thing? What was the point of coming here if not for closure? Why were you even here?

A fleeting voice told you to ditch the whole trip and go back to the apartment. Back to your safe space with Mark, where the two of you could marathon dumb movies and make love on the couch like you always did.

But you quickly dismissed the thought, reminding yourself that you weren’t going to let some dumb fling drive you away from a much-needed vacation at your parents’ place. When you confirmed that the coast was clear, you made your way back out to the kitchen, where your mom sat at the dinner table with a book.

“Hi honey,” she said. “We waited for you, figured you got caught up in that work call of yours.” A slight raise of her eyebrow indicated she knew.

You sighed, sitting on the chair across from her.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Things are just difficult right now. I don’t want to get caught up in… things that I shouldn’t.”

She nodded, setting her book down. “He left you a little gift in the corridor.”

Then she got up from her seat and hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “Leaving for the evening- make sure you lock all the windows before you sleep.”

When she was out of sight, you made your way to the corridor, finding a little white box on the console table by the entrance. It was wrapped neatly with a blue ribbon, in typical Felix fashion. You pulled one end, watching the tie come undone, and carefully lifted one end to reveal the contents inside.

The scent hit you before the sight, and you knew instantly. His signature baked goods.

You were up much earlier the next morning. The fresh summer air beckoned you to go outside, which you did, completing an almost 3-mile jog. Post-exercise, you ate a full breakfast, and then called Mark, his phone going straight to voicemail.

It wasn’t typical of Mark to sleep in, but you knew he was busy at the lab late these days, so you opted for a quick text instead.

Late night again? Call me when you can. Love you :)

There was something so freeing about having no plans, no to-do list, and better yet, no monotonous routine like you had most days.It was like you could do anything you wanted while you were here- which you did. You watched old reruns of cartoons, flipped through ancient yearbooks kept in boxes out in the storage shed, and even repaired some of the flawed spots on your walls with a can of white paint you found. You also finished piles of chores around the house for your parents, going so far as to fold and hang all their laundry for them. By the time you’d put away the last of the socks, it was well past 5 in the afternoon.

The loud sound of the doorbell startled you from inside your parents’ shared closet. Had they been expecting any packages? The gardener, perhaps? You cautiously made your way to the front door, smoothing down your blouse and adjusting your shorts that had ridden up while you worked. You unlatched the door and opened it, feeling a drop in your chest as you locked eyes with the figure.

“Hi,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

You cleared your throat. “Hi…Can I…help you?”

His lips parted slightly, closing again as his expression changed to that of dejection.

“Um… I just came to drop this off.”

You looked at his hands; which clutched a little white envelope.

“Okay,” you replied, reaching out to take it from him. He pulled his hands back a little so that the envelope was just out of reach.

You looked up at him again with a questioning look.

“Did I… I mean, how are you?” He asked awkwardly.

“Me?” You said in reply, feeling annoyed at his persistence for an interaction. “Is this a new mailman greeting? I’m good. Can I get my mail now?”

Your heart dropped as soon as you finished speaking. It was a despicable bit you kept up, enough to hurt even yourself.

His lips pulled together in a thin line, raising his eyebrows and looking down at his feet.

“Ouch. Yeah, here you go.” He handed you the envelope, turning around and marching off without a word.

You watched his head hang as he took confident strides away from you, getting farther out of reach with each passing second.

“Wait,” you called after him, a moot point as he only kept walking.

As soon as he was out of sight, you slammed the front door, eyes welling up with tears as you slid down the door and dropped to the floor. Why had you said something so stupid? You imagined yourself in his shoes briefly, shaking your head at the thought of him reducing your existence to that of a delivery person.

It was the third time this week you’d fucked up a chance at making amends with Felix. And by far the worst one- there was no way he’d be back any time soon. Or ever again, for that matter.

You wiped tears with the back of your hand, suddenly remembering the letter he came here to drop off. After a few deep breaths, you examined it in your shaky hands, thumbing over the ink on the back that spelled your name. His handwriting looked the same as it did so many years ago- so neat and carefully placed. You tore it open timidly, pulling out a little yellow card.

Y/n,

It’s been a while

I hope you still like brownies!

I’m going to the new coffee shop across the street tomorrow if you’d like to join

9am?

PS- I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced!

You read the letter once, then twice, then six more times before you could even comprehend what it was.

Despite your ingenuous behavior all week, he was still willing to try and fix things with you. That was, up until a few minutes ago. The invitation still sat in your hand, but it would be a miracle if he agreed to go anywhere near you after the stunt you pulled.

You tossed the letter aside, burying a tear-stained face in your hands as you began to cry again at the thought that you’d likely never see him again.

He’d slipped through your fingers yet again, only this time, it was entirely your fault.

“You’re wasting your time with lame excuses and lies”

Why were you even trying? In what universe would Felix agree to see you again after the stunt you pulled?

It didn’t matter. Chalk it up to pure delusion and naivety, but you were up bright and early, all dressed up and ready to meet for coffee with him. If he didn’t show, you’d surely owe him an apology, which your ego silently prayed you wouldn’t have to track him down to deliver. And if he did, things would be unbearably awkward. You’d lose either way- but that’s not to say he hadn’t already had his share of loss dealing with your abhorrent attitude.

You were grateful you packed some of your nicer clothes while you stayed at your parents’. You’d settled on a feminine white peasant top, a pair of fitted slacks, and spent the morning curling your hair to convince him you weren’t always an unpresentable slob despite the way you’d appeared all week.

When you arrived, the shop was teeming with young couples and coffee connoisseurs. The lively atmosphere combined with gloomy warm lighting made for a romantic date location- forcing you to remind yourself that this was not in fact a date. You verily assumed it to be a working session- one where you two would sort out the awkward encounters and establish boundaries again. Followed by some brief small talk and a proper send-off so that you could finally shut him out of your mind for good.

A short staircase led you to the upper level, where most of the tables were neatly decorated with glass vases of daisies that thrived in the sun beams illuminated along the rows of windows. You clutched your bag, looking around nervously and trying your best to steady the rapid thump of your heartbeat in your throat. Couples. Couples. A family. A pair of sisters.

And on the last table, Felix.

He looked mature in a sleek white turtleneck and dangly silver earrings, his ashy locks tucked neatly behind both ears. As you approached the table, he looked up for a brief second, shifting his eyes away once again as you pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat.

You waited for him to say something, which he didn’t.

Conversely, your pride didn’t allow you to speak first.

“You’re blonde,” you said suddenly, your voice coming out much shakier than you had anticipated.

He focused on you again, expression unchanged.

“So you do remember me.”

Link to part 2 here

561 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 10 months

Text

Camping

summary: the wilderness favors James over you, but it does have some redeeming qualities

cw: mentions of blood, minor injury

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Camping hadn’t sounded like such a bad idea last weekend, when James had suggested it. You aren’t a naturally outdoorsy person, but you loved the idea of getting him all to yourself for a couple of days, and what could be more romantic than frolicking through the forest together, the soft light of a campfire, and sleeping under the stars?

Frolicking, you think sardonically, slapping your cheek in yet another attempt to nail the mosquito that has been trailing you for the past hour, slowly sucking you dry. You could not possibly have been more naive in your imaginings of what camping would entail. Your legs hurt, your supposedly practical shoes are starting to chafe on your ankles, and you’re unsure if the back of your neck is itching from bug bites (completely undeterred by the bug spray you’d applied at the car, by the way) or your ceaseless sweating. You feel tired, and sticky, and sore.

“Oh, look!” James calls from a few paces ahead of you. “There’s a river up here.”

You try not to resent him in times like this, but there’s something seriously unjust about how easily your boyfriend has taken to the wilderness. You suppose it simply boils down to one fact: James loves the world, and it loves him right back. A light sheen of sweat has him glistening in the sunlight, his muscled legs effortlessly navigating the landscape, and the breeze has tousled his curls just so as to make hair stylists worldwide mad with envy. He even seems to be getting a tan, whereas you’re strapped into what he calls your “sexy hat”—a beige, floppy thing with vents and a chin fastening—to avoid a sunburn.

You push ahead on shaky legs until you’re beside James, looking at what appears to you to be more of a creek, or a stream maybe, than a river.

“Nice,” you say, smiling with all the enthusiasm you can muster. “Wanna go for a swim?”

“Uh, absolutely,” James says, and you suspect he was only waiting for you to ask so it’d be your idea. He sets off for the water, discarding his backpack a few feet away and all but diving in. You follow more warily, not loving the idea of a fish or some other mysterious river dweller brushing up against you, but the prospect of cool, flowing water washing the dirt and sweat from your legs has you stepping out of your shoes and wading in.

James grasps your hands to keep you from stumbling as you approach him in the middle of the stream. The water here comes up almost to the hems of your shorts, and you’re considering tossing your clothes to the shore if it means you can experience this icy relief all over your body.

“This is fun, yeah?” James grins, and your heart contracts guiltily as you realize you may not have been as covert with your dissatisfaction as you’d thought. It’s not James’ fault the outdoors doesn’t treat you as kindly as it seems to treat him, and you have no intention of ruining what should be a perfect trip for him.

“Yeah, it is.” You return his smile, bracing your hands on his shoulders and standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

He returns your efforts with gusto, pressing his mouth to yours so ardently you have to take a tiny step back to keep your balance, and a sharp pain goes through your heel.

You gasp, almost biting James’ lip as you rear back.

“What?” he asks, instantly concerned, and you grip his shoulders tightly, hopping around awkwardly on one foot.

“I don’t know.” Your foot stings, the water ripping at it even as you do your best to keep it motionless. “I think I stepped on something.”

James curses. “You aren’t wearing water shoes?”

“I don’t own water shoes,” you cry.

“Okay, sorry,” he says, both of you speaking more sharply than you’d prefer. “Alright, let’s get out.” He picks you up with strong arms under your knees and shoulders, and you can easily blame it on the pain if you swoon a bit as he carries you to the rocky shore, setting you down gingerly.

You curl your wounded foot close to you, a puddle of watery red already forming on the rock beneath you. There’s a piece of glass stuck in the skin of your heel, soft and already slightly wrinkled from the water, and it’s panic more than hurt that has invisible fingers closing in a suffocating grip around your throat.

“You’re okay,” James says, watching you with his own barely-leashed panic swimming in his eyes. “Can I have a look?”

You nod, letting him take your ankle cautiously and bring your tender foot onto his lap. You make a small sound of protest at the blood you’re getting on his shorts, but he shushes you, gripping the protruding piece of glass between his fingernails.

“I’m gonna take it out, okay? Then we can clean it.” He looks at you for approval, and all you can do is nod again before he’s removed the intruder from your heel and your blood is flowing even faster. You hiss at the pain and in mourning for the stain that will certainly never come out of James’ poor shorts. “Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” James coos, grabbing antiseptic spray you had no idea he’d brought from his backpack. He makes short work of cleaning and covering your wound, and even kisses your gross, river-scented foot when he’s done, though the comically small band-aid covering the cut really puts things into perspective for you.

You’re doing your best to rally the gung-ho attitude you’ll need to get through the rest of this trip when James says, “I know it’s early, but you probably won’t be able to walk much on that for a little while. Want to go ahead and set up camp at that clearing we passed earlier?” and frankly, the idea of this ordeal being over with for the night is too good to pass up.

“Sure,” you say, trying to feign some reluctance, and he kisses you on the forehead before hauling you up.

You’re grateful for James’ selfless character (and his sturdy frame) as he lets you lean some of your weight on him, in addition to the not-insignificant weight of his backpack, while you limp the fifteen minutes to the clearing. He takes the tent from his pack as soon as he’s set everything down, unrolling it and placing the first stake at a corner.

“Here,” you crawl over, taking the mallet from him. “I can do that.”

James gives you a look like you’ve sprouted a second head. “No,” he says, taking the mallet back from you and starting to hammer in the stake himself, “you’re hurt.”

You can’t help it; you laugh. “Jamie, a cut in my foot hardly keeps me from using my arms.”

He only shakes his head at you. “You just rest, sweetheart. I’ve got it.”

You consider protesting further, but he seems serious, and eventually you simply shrug, scooting into a patch of shade to watch him work. If your boyfriend wants to do all the hard work, far be it for you to prevent him.

And as the evening goes on, James actually does insist on doing everything for you. He sets up the tent, builds the fire, heats your dinner, and even fashions a little cushion for you to sit on out of a spare blanket. You argue that you’re not all of a sudden made of glass when he won’t let you roast your own marshmallow, but James won’t hear it, and soon you’re lying on the cool ground, using your blanket cushion to pillow your head and looking at the stars.

“We can start back to the car as soon as we wake up tomorrow,” James says over the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs, his head just a few inches from yours. “I’m sure you want to be in your own bed.”

“What?” You push up onto your elbow, looking down at him in disbelief. “No, I’ll be okay to walk tomorrow.” You’re fairly sure you were okay to walk today. “Don’t cut the trip short on my account.”

James only looks at you glumly. “Sweetheart, you weren’t having any fun today. You were miserable, and then you got hurt.” His brows scrunch like even the memory is agonizing for him. “I don’t want to make it worse by having you walk on it all day tomorrow.”

You’re officially the worst girlfriend in the world. James had been looking forward to this all week, and as soon as you’d gotten here, you’d made no secret of how little you were enjoying yourself. “James, I’ll be fine,” you promise. “I was being a wimp today, and now I know what to do to make it easier for myself.” More bug spray, to start with. You sigh, laying your head on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to spoil your good time. Let me try again tomorrow, okay?”

“You’re sure?” You can’t see James’ face, but there’s no mistaking the hope in his voice.

“Positive. You’re so sweet for offering to go home, though.” You tilt your head up until your lips find his, the kiss short and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Don’t want my girl to have a bad time,” James says, sitting up and pulling you with him so he can kiss you more fully. He casts a forlorn look at your foot. “My poor, injured girl.”

You grin, bringing your unscathed leg around to straddle his lap. “Not so injured I can’t do anything,” you remind him.

James’ eyebrows rise, his lips slowly curving upward. “Oh, yeah?” he croons, pulling you closer by your waist. “I mean, if you’re sure, sweetheart. But the sexy hat is going to have to stay on."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fluff #james potter oneshot #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter blurb #james potter x y/n #marauders era #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders

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hysteria-things · 3 months

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༄ PROLOGUE ☼

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: greece is your family’s number one vacation destination. you meet a boy there, being oblivious to what your future holds with him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, crying

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: GUYS I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES YOU HAVE NO IDEA

the heat from the sun beams down on your skin. your family goes on a vacation to greece every year in the summer, and you must say, it’s your favorite time of year.

to be more specific, the island is called skopelos.

the three of you stay in the same hotel each year. it looks a bit run down, but in reality, it’s beautiful.

it’s owned by an older woman, who your parents befriended for how many times you’ve been to this place.

hotel villa donna is made full of white brick, with a blue roof and green vines with more gorgeous flowers decorating the walls.

it has a big courtyard and a handful of rooms surrounding it. despite it being smaller than an average hotel, it’s perfect.

the view of the beach and the main dock is breathtaking, the water traveling far and wide. at night, the fairy lights make it look dimly lit and calm.

currently, you’re laying on that same beach in your bathing suit with your eyes closed, getting a nice tan.

the waves and the conversations of other people flood your ears, the squawking of seagulls above you.

“oomph!” you huff out when an object lands hard on your stomach.

“way to go, chris. you hit the poor girl.” a voice yells in the distance.

“oh, shut up, nick.” another voice, who you’re assuming is chris, argues back.

a shuffling of sand gets more intense as if it’s moving close to you.

you take off your sunglasses, squinting your eyes at the boy hovering above and grabbing the soccer ball.

“i am so sorry for my idiot brother. are you okay?” he asks worriedly, his blue orbs widening in concern.

his damp brunette hair blows in the wind, cheeks red from a little sunburn. he’s handsome.

“it’s all good.” you giggle, sitting up. “it didn’t hurt me or anything.”

he sighs of relief. “thank god. i’m matt, by the way.”

you smile. “y/n.”

“isn’t it crazy that we’ve been together for six years?” matt says, swinging your hand in his as you walk to… wherever.

matt said he had a surprise for you, but insisted you’d be blindfolded for it. you know you’re outside because the grass tickles your ankles.

“yeah, i know.” you start, following his guidance. “all because chris hit me with a soccer ball.”

he laughs, letting go of your hand. “matt? where’d you go?” you call out.

then, the sound of ‘i have a dream’ plays softly on a harp. what the hell?

you feel his fingers lift the fabric over your eyes, removing it. you gasp.

both of you are standing under a cherry blossom tree, the petals falling around you two. he knows how much you love the outdoors and nature.

you finally look at matt, who’s tearing up and grinning widely. “matt—”

“i love you so much.” he sniffles, putting his hands into his pockets. he doesn’t like to get all sappy, but for you, he has no problem doing it. “as i look into your eyes, i see a future brighter than i could have ever imagined. every day spent by your side feels like a gift, and i am endlessly grateful for your love and companionship.”

“shut up,” you say, your hands covering your mouth as tears start to spill from your eyes.

“y/n.” he gets on one knee, taking a velvet box out of his jacket. “will you do the incredible honor and be my wife?”

now, here you are, gushing widely at the remaining envelopes in your hands. you read off the names as you slide them into the slit of the mailbox. “chris, nick, nate, clem, and madi.”

this is it. you are officially going to get married to the love of your life.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828

#[ ༄ ] ☼ paradise #Spotify #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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slutforslytherinx · 2 months

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hi i am new at asks but I was wondering if you could do a FLUFF Mattheo Riddle x reader were they go camping and decide to go on a hike bit get lost or separated from each other and they somehow get reunited? And can you plz tag me on it? Thank you for reading and considering this!

muggle activities gone wrong

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

pairing: mattheo x muggleborn!fem!reader

warnings: panicky mattheo, tiny injuries, tad bit of angst, and i think that’s it?? :)

a/n: thank you so much for being my first ask!! this was such a cute request and i hope it meets your expectations🤍

convincing your boyfriend, mattheo, to go on a muggle camping trip with you wasn’t easy. he, being raised around magic, was wary of the idea of cutting ties with the thing he was reliant on for the entire weekend.

over the course of the week, you chipped away at his worries bit by bit until he finally relented. you were majorly regretting that decision right now. he would never go on a camping trip again after this.

it started out amazingly. the two of you borrowed your parents car and drove down to the sight, (mostly you because he doesn’t have a license), and attempted to put the tent together to the best of your abilities.

you showed him how to roast a marshmallow and taught him your favorite board games before you both retired to your sleeping bags, cuddling together for warmth. it started going south earlier this morning, when you both decided that a hiking trail sounded like a good idea.

how wrong you were. it started out fun, taking polaroids of each other at pretty landmarks and seeing nature from a new perspective. however, it all went wrong when you saw the prettiest tree in the distance with budding purple and pink flowers for leaves.

you started heading towards it while mattheo was at a nearby water fountain on the edge of the trail, thinking he would figure you went to go see it. you were wrong. you waited by the tree in excitement, wanting to take a picture together, but after a couple minutes, you started to get worried.

you headed back to your previous spot, your boyfriend nowhere to be found. that was an hour ago, and he was still nowhere to be found. did he go off the trail? did he think you went a different way and started going backwards? is he okay?

worries filled your mind as you pushed your way through bushes, searching all over for the curly haired boy. tiny scratches littered your arms from sharp thorns, a small amount of dry blood surrounding them.

the sun was high in the sky, the heat scorching your skin to the point you were certain you’d have a nasty sunburn despite the sunscreen you applied earlier.

how far away could he be? it wasn’t a necessarily dangerous trail, unless he went off the path. he wouldn’t do that though, right? your voice was sore from yelling his name in hopes he might hear and your mouth was dry from dehydration.

you made the decision that you would keep searching for another thirty minutes, and if you couldn’t find him you’d go get people for help. “mattheo!” you yelled into the otherwise quiet atmosphere, praying by any chance he was nearby and heard.

a distant call made you immediately alert, eyes widening in relief that you might’ve finally found him. “mattheo!” you shouted again, louder this time as you hastily made your way to the direction of the voice.

you pushed through more bushes to make your way to him, ignoring the sting of thorns against your bare arms. the calls got louder and clearer the closer you got, confirming the fact that it was definitely your boyfriend.

“oh my god!” you shrieked, stumbling into his arms when you reunited. “do you know how worried i was? i was about to go get help!” you clung to him, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth.

“do you know how worried i was? i came back and you were gone, where the hell did you go?” he retaliated, stepping back and examining you with concerned eyes. “why are you bleeding?”

“i went to go see the tree up ahead! i thought we could get a picture there but after a few minutes i went back to get you and you weren’t there. and i just got pricked by some thorns, i’m fine.” mattheos jaw clenched, the worry in his eyes dimming the slightest bit.

“i take it you won’t go camping ever again after this?” you teased, attempting to brighten to mood. he rolled his eyes, but the quirk of his lip gave away his amusement.

“never again.” he repeated, trying to look serious but failing. you could read him like a book, even if it took quite awhile to reach this point. “let’s go.” he took your hand in his, starting forward with you trying to match his pace. “where are we going?”

“back to the tent to disinfect your arms.” you wisely decided to not fight him on it, allowing him to lead you back to the tent. if you guys got a tad lost on the way, it wasn’t your fault! you made it back safely, anyways.

as he now sat in front of you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a concentrated look, his brow furrowed as worked, you didn’t care about the failed camping trip. all you cared about was him.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #oneshot #mattheo riddle blurb #fanfic #harry potter #blurb

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contentloadingandstuff · 3 months

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Dark Days - Yae Miko x Male!Reader

A/N: That's right, angst is on the menu today boyz. CW: Descriptions of disease, Kitsune!Reader, Reader death.

Creatures of lesser might are naturally attracted to their superiors. The strongest wolf leads the pack, the biggest Hilichurl commands the others, even the fascinating humans flock to the banners of those strongest in body or mind. Kitsune are no exception.

There wasn't a day in your centuries of life that was lacking in kitsune. Those of your kind that haven't yet reached sapience always seemed to somehow stumble into your presence, guided by some sort of inexplicable magnetism. You and Miko often debated on the reason why these sly creatures could always find you. Maybe they sought to learn from you and follow your lead into ascension? Perhaps it was simply instinct or scent mixed with curiosity, it wasn't clear. What was clear, however, was that you couldn't help but interact with them. Their little ears and cute snouts never failed to make you share some delicious fish or egg with them.

Foxes didn't make for good pets only, however. They could understand your commands and would carry them out flawlessly, as long as they were within their ability. Their main use was delivering letters from you and to you. What better use than make them the envoys of the Envoys? The irony never ceased to amuse you.

There were some quarrels every now and then, obviously. These were still wild animals at heart. Sometimes they were moody and would stay away, sometimes you would accidentally step on their tail, earning a squeak and an offended glare from them. When one of these cuties would get too much into playtime, you would get a nibble or two. Neither you nor Miko paid any mind - they were shallow at worst and healed within a single day or two.

That day wasn't any different. Miko needed to send a message to a Shumuutsuban agent, and she enlisted your help. You called a kitsune over, and before long one emerged from the nearby shrubbery. Just when it approached and you leaned down to attach the message to its back did you notice how dirty and skinny the creature was. It seemed dazed, its steps were unsure and shaky, lacking the usual tact and elegance of your kind’s thread. Regardless, you gave it directions. Just as you moved your hands closer, the fox sank its teeth into your hand.

You yelped and struck it with a painful, but harmless Electro shock, and it scurried away. Never did you see a fox so snappy, and you were Miko’s husband. Ultimately, you cursed the animal under your breath and moved on with your day.

Days passed. Absorbed by the soon approaching summer festival, you didn’t pay attention to the minor injury you sustained, even when the red spot didn’t seem to go away as it should. Miko noticed it by accident one day and questioned you. You just shrugged.

“I guess it’s sunburn? I really should apply some sun cream.”

You did as you said, but even after an entire week of careful treatment, the “burn” was still where it was. More - it seemingly expanded, with the skin feeling just as smooth as the rest of your body. Miko’s curiosity turned into concern when the area became hot to the touch. Something wasn’t quite right with your hand, and yet you claimed to feel nothing out of the ordinary. To test this, Miko pinched your skin and was promptly taken aback by your complete lack of reaction to the stimulus.

When the heat spread through your whole body, you called in a physician. Much to Miko’s relief, a short examination revealed that it was nothing but a minor infection from a neglected cut.

Your wife spoke her farewells to the good doctor and took a few days off to keep you company. After all, what good would the medicine do you if you didn’t have the support you needed? Your fever dropped, giving both of you some much needed peace of mind. It was a fantastic opportunity to spoil you, even if kisses or cuddling were out of the picture - Miko didn’t want to bother with coughs, fever or any of the many unpleasantries sickness carried with itself. You were positively adorable, resting in the guest bed and becoming all flustered whenever she brought you tea, food or read you a book.

But her smile was short-lived.

Just a few days after the visit, the fever returned, higher than ever. Your forehead was close to burning to the touch. With the fever came sweat - constant sweat, drenching every bit of the sheets and blankets. Shivering, you lost most water in your body almost overnight.

When Miko saw you in the morning, a cold shiver ran down her spine. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes wide open and blinking slightly, your skin shiny with sweat. You mumbled to her about wanting something to drink, but your voice was… wrong. Damaged, hoarse, as if your very throat had been scraped and mangled by a knife. There was a thick line of drool flowing from your agape mouth.

“Water…” You moaned. “Please…”

It wasn’t long before a glass of the drink rested in your hand. Despite your state, your delirious expression betrayed hesitation. Miko stretched out her arm to hold you, but stopped herself shortly. She couldn’t risk catching whatever you had.

“Honey, please drink it. It will do your body good.” She spoke in a calm, almost motherly voice, soothing and composed.

With a shaking hand you lifted the glass to your lips. As soon as the water touched your lip, your throat spasmed, forcing you to spit it out. The glass fell to the floor, its life saving contents rejected by your very self.

Miko spoke not a word more and rushed to the palace. It didn’t take long to explain the emergency, as Ei has been paying visits to your house ever since your condition confined you to the bed. Within less than an hour Ei gathered every medic she had at her service and led them back to you.

—

Miko leads the humans through her house. Her steps are nervous, yet determination shines in her pupils. Everything will be alright now that the very Shogun brought the best of the best to your bedside.

She opens your door, able to cast just one pained glance at your restless, miserable form. Your breathing is so heavy she can hear it from beyond the threshold. Miko turns to Ei, who nods at the doctors. They move into the room one by one. Miko turns to follow them, but is stopped by Ei’s arm on her shoulder.

“Trust them. They know their trade and focus is what they need now.”

Miko looks down. She shakes her head. “Yes. Of course.”

They sit down in the living room. Miko is fidgeting with her fingers. No words exit the lips of any of the two women. The tension hangs thick in the room, audible sounds of the researchers murmuring to each other being the only to break the deafening silence.

Before long, the door opens. Miko jumps up and watches the men approach. Their expressions, graced with many scars of experience and age, are bleak. They look at each other nervously. Miko can hardly contain herself.

“Speak!” She growls. “What is happening to my husband?”

One of them coughs. “It is…”

Silence.

“Hydrophobia.” Another completes the sentence.

Miko’s eyes grow wide. A smile of disbelief makes its way to her lips. She scoffs.

“What? You can’t be serious.”

Reading the room, Ei stands by Miko in silence.

“Lady Yae Miko, we are certain-” “So what if it is hydrophobia? Treat it.” Her eyes narrow.

“There is no known cure to the disease. We are sorry.”

“Ah, is that so?”

She makes a step forward. Her eyes meet those of the medic.

“Fascinating. Isn’t it your job to cure? If you cannot do that, then what use are you, anyway?”

The man tugs at the collar of his outfit. His eyes dart from the kitsune to the floor and back.

“You are worthless.”

Her open hand raises and lands on the cheek of the elderly man, the sheer force of the blow making him reel back. Miko bares her fangs in rage, but before she can do another move, Ei grabs her by her kimono and turns her body to face her.

“Stop this! Do not raise your hand at them, they are not the ones to blame.”

Miko groans and tries to push her friend away, but the god’s superior strength renders her efforts futile. Their eyes meet. Ei remains calm and collected. The stillness of her features chills Miko’s anger.

Moments pass in silence.

“We need to secure him. We cannot risk him going feral and hurting anybody.” She speaks, the decisiveness in her voice plain to hear.

“I know.”

A tear runs down Miko’s cheek. She smiles through the choking sensation, wiping her eyes with her hand.

“I… I just don’t… want him to l-leave.” She shakes her head. “Not yet. N-not yet.”

Miko lets her gaze fall downwards. Ei issues a command and the doctors re-enter your room. The fox remains paralyzed, her mind too dazed to form a coherent sentence.

She wants to speak out. Protest. She wants to rip the humans to shreds, limb from limb, she wants to spit blasphemies at Ei for letting all this happen. At the same time, she wants to fall to her knees and kiss their feet, begging them to do something. Anything.

But her mind knows. It knows that she shouldn't lash out as she sees the scientists take you out of your bed on a stretcher, yet her mind struggles. To understand.

The stretcher stops next to her. She places her hand on the towel covering your forehead, her finger still bearing the ring that bound you and her together all these years ago.

“Goodbye, my love.”

Until death does us apart.

Thanks for reading.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #angst #genshin impact angst #yae miko #miko x reader #yae miko x reader #yae miko x male reader #yae miko x y/n #yae miko x you #yae miko angst #miko x male reader #miko x you #miko x y/n #miko angst

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a-boca-do-inferno · 1 year

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trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s.

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance.

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done.

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans.

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....”

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.”

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him.

♡♡♡

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies.

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words.

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”

“What are you doing with my...”

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.”

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”

So that’s his name.

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.”

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.

Of course.

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police.

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.”

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.”

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer—

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.”

“No, no, please...”

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.”

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...”

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”

“What now?”

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.

Jesus.

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.

Tony also sits down and shrugs. “But it did. So what?”

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.”

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.

Trouble with a capital “T”.

♡♡♡

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight. She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away.

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that!

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there.

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.

“(y/n).”

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?”

“I...”

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.

No one would dare stop him.

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body.

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?”

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.

♡♡♡

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.”

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.

He looks pleased.

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.”

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.

“Shut up”, he orders.

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start.

Of what exactly, (y/n)?

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.

♡♡♡

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly.

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...”

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...

Her head was going to explode.

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes?

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.”

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface.

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways.

#scarface #tony montana #scarface x reader #tony montana x reader #tony montana imagine #al pacino #al pacino x reader

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syndxlla · 1 year

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Some Wholesome Post-Calamity Zelink Thoughts

the pre-calamity thoughts

Link awkwardly offering her his rito garb to wear after the battle concludes. She’s in shock, and needs to wear something more practical than her ceremonial attire. Her other clothes have been destroyed after all these years. He turns the other way as she changes in some ruins. Her dirty hands run along the crumbling stone.

She can’t help but bury her face into his smell, trying desperately not to cry. How different will he be? He still smells the same. He smells of pine and charcoal.

Touch is completely different now, they are both deeply traumatized and absolutely terrified of losing one another again. It’s a hot and cold push and pull type of thing. they constantly want to hold one another and never let go, but are terrified of the other one being afraid of them.

Link still putting his hair up the same way as he did a century ago, his hair tie in between his teeth. Zelda’s heart softens when she notices it.

Zelda laughing for the first time in one hundred years. She cackles at something Link says. It was along the lines of “one hundred years of sleep and you’d think I’d be able to keep my eyes open for longer than an hour” as they travel to Kakariko for the first time since Ganon was destroyed. Her laugh surprises both of them, it’s music to both of their ear’s. But especially Link’s.

Zelda being nervous around the Horses at Dueling Peaks stable, everything is strange to her again. Link speaking softly and gently to both her and the horses, taking her hand and guiding it to pet the velvety nose of the steed. Her sigh of relief.

Both of them wanting to be with the other the way the pined for in their youth, but being too scared to try anything.

Link eventually takes the initiative after they watched the sunset together on the cliff at the Tech Lab in Hateno, the sun painting orange over the ocean. Zelda’s head rests on his shoulder, he takes her hand and loops his fingers with hers. They stay like that till the sun rises the next morning.

Link giving Zelda a gentle forehead kiss one morning when she burns breakfast again. She quietly apologizes as he takes the pot away from her, fixing it.

Link braiding her hair back, letting his fingers linger in her golden hair. He smells the top of her head, closing his eyes. He remembers more when he does, ever since she came back he seems to remember everything all the time.

There are two beds in their home in Hateno, but both of them have nasty nightmares. Zelda is the first one to crawl into his bed with him. They never sleep apart now if they can help it.

Zelda admitting how much Link gets along with the kids in Hateno. Playing games with them, teaching them basic defensive combat, he’s opened so much since she first knew him.

Zelda waking up before him one morning, just looking at his scarred back. Tracing feather-light finger-tips along the new scars.

Link cutting her hair after she has a break down. He tells her something Riju told him: Hair Holds memory. He’s spent the last two years regaining his memories, maybe it was time for both of them to lose some.

The two heading out into Hyrule for the first time, stopping by all the major cities to thank them for their help. To start rebuilding Hyrule. Link walks side by side with her now, their hands typically intertwined.

Their first kiss.

It happened at the outskirt stable on their way to Hebra and Rito Village. Link had a nasty sunburn from the desert. They listened as music played and life danced through the stable. A fiddle and accordion played a folky jig and they couldn’t help but dance to it. Both of them are awful dancers, tumbling all over the other. They laugh and cheer and hold one another and when they make eye contact it happens. It’s so fast and short but felt like second nature. They both wished they had done it early. A century earlier.

#zelink #zelda fandom #zelda breath of the wild #zelda totk #tloz zelda #loz zelda #zelda #the legend of zelda #zelda tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda #princess zelda #zelda fanart #zelda x link #tloz #tloz fandom

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nourishandthrive · 11 days

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Natural Remedies for Common Ailments

Turning to natural remedies for common ailments can provide relief without relying heavily on medications. Here are some effective and easily accessible natural remedies for everyday health issues.

1. Headaches

Peppermint Oil: Apply a few drops of diluted peppermint oil to your temples and massage gently. The menthol in peppermint can help relax muscles and alleviate headache pain.

Ginger Tea: Brew fresh ginger slices in hot water and drink. Ginger has anti-inflammatory properties that can help reduce headache severity.

2. Cold and Flu

Honey and Lemon: Mix a tablespoon of honey with the juice of half a lemon in warm water. This soothing drink can help relieve sore throat and boost your immune system.

Elderberry Syrup: Take elderberry syrup to reduce the duration and severity of cold and flu symptoms. Elderberries are rich in antioxidants and vitamins that support immune health.

3. Digestive Issues

Peppermint Tea: Drink peppermint tea to relieve symptoms of indigestion, bloating, and gas. Peppermint helps relax the digestive tract muscles.

Apple Cider Vinegar: Mix a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar in a glass of water and drink before meals to aid digestion and reduce heartburn.

4. Insomnia

Chamomile Tea: Drink a cup of chamomile tea before bedtime. Chamomile has mild sedative properties that can help promote sleep.

Lavender Essential Oil: Add a few drops of lavender essential oil to your pillow or diffuse it in your bedroom to create a calming atmosphere conducive to sleep.

5. Skin Irritations

Aloe Vera Gel: Apply fresh aloe vera gel to soothe and heal minor burns, sunburns, and skin irritations. Aloe vera has anti-inflammatory and cooling properties.

Oatmeal Bath: Add colloidal oatmeal to a warm bath to relieve itching and irritation from conditions like eczema or rashes.

6. Muscle Pain

Epsom Salt Bath: Soak in a warm bath with Epsom salts. The magnesium in Epsom salts can help relax muscles and reduce pain.

Arnica Gel: Apply arnica gel topically to sore muscles. Arnica has anti-inflammatory properties that can help reduce muscle soreness and bruising.

7. Nausea

Ginger: Chew on a small piece of fresh ginger or drink ginger tea. Ginger is known for its anti-nausea properties.

Peppermint: Inhale peppermint oil or sip peppermint tea to help alleviate nausea symptoms.

8. Allergies

Local Honey: Consume a teaspoon of local honey daily to help build immunity against local pollen and reduce allergy symptoms over time.

Neti Pot: Use a neti pot with a saline solution to rinse nasal passages and reduce congestion caused by allergies.

9. Cough

Thyme Tea: Brew thyme leaves in hot water and drink. Thyme has antimicrobial and expectorant properties that can help soothe a cough.

Marshmallow Root: Drink marshmallow root tea to coat the throat and relieve irritation from coughing.

10. Stress and Anxiety

Ashwagandha: Take ashwagandha supplements to help reduce stress and anxiety. Ashwagandha is an adaptogen that supports the body's stress response.

Passionflower: Drink passionflower tea or take supplements to promote relaxation and reduce anxiety levels.

Tips for Using Natural Remedies

1. Consult a Professional: Always consult with a healthcare provider before starting any new remedy, especially if you have underlying health conditions or are taking other medications.

2. Quality Matters: Use high-quality, organic products to ensure the best results and avoid harmful additives.

3. Monitor Reactions: Pay attention to how your body responds to natural remedies and discontinue use if you experience any adverse reactions.

4. Combine with Healthy Lifestyle: Enhance the effectiveness of natural remedies by maintaining a healthy diet, regular exercise, and adequate sleep.

By incorporating these natural remedies into your routine, you can address common ailments effectively and support your overall health and well-being.

Share your favorite natural remedies in the comments below! Let’s exchange tips and support each other in our journey towards a healthier, more natural lifestyle.

#holistic health #wellness journey

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sunburndrink · 8 months

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Basically, sunburn is caused by prolonged and intense exposure to those harmful ultraviolet rays coming from the sun. It is said that these radiations in the form of UV rays cause burns on the skin by killing a few cells in the process. Actually, cell death triggers your immune system response which further leaves you with sunburn’s visible symptoms.

#what causes sunburn #sunburn remedies #sunburn treatment #treating sunburn #natural sunburn relief #sunburnremedies #sunburntreatment #sunburn relief #sunburn cure #sunburn remedy #sun protection

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silenttale22 · 10 months

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GUMUSSERVI |JJK|

BestFriend!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers Warning: Swearing, readers!insecurities of not being enough :( Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JEONGGUKIE - OUR PRETTY LITTLE(not so little - fine) BUN <3

(n)Gumusservi (Turkish) - moonlight shining on the water

The sound of the ocean and the sight of tiny waves crashing onto the shore transport you to a different world. Your mind drifted softly, giving itself a brief feeling of nirvana with the surrounding nature. The clear sky was even bluer than the other days, reminding you of the unforgettable summer skies. The burning feeling of the legs buried in the sand brings you the best mood and the sun-kissed arms, now a bit sunburned, must be hidden under the umbrella. People were laughing around you, and kids playing volleyball near the place where you were. Is this what they call heaven? The place where everyone is happy.

The rays of light reflected from the rippling water made the scenery even more beautiful. You were just happy, with pathetic hope that it would last forever. From under your dreamy eyes, you found yourself observing people having fun in the water, or sitting on the shore playing with the sand like children. And that worry-free childish feeling always clung to you when you somehow did get away at least for a moment to the sandy beaches. Your problems seemed to disappear with the echo of the waves hitting the shore. These sea waves are washing away all the bad memories that could somehow appear in your mind from time to time. The sound of the wind blowing away your hair and soothing your slightly sunburned skin was like heavenly relief on warmer days like today.

The quiet sounds of tropical melodies were playing from afar but you still could hear it despite the loud people around. But most of the time, these loud sounds make you pissed off immediately, here - when your palms gently brush the grains of sand under your fingers, nothing seems to ruin such a moment.

Your gaze fell on the group of kids and teenagers on a small court made of sand. They weakly ran around to bounce the ball that ended up falling on the ground and made them burst into laughter or maybe some of them were even redder with anger because of the lost point. It made you chuckle, mainly because your friends were there too and one of them especially didn’t like to lose in such games. He was always like that, some could call him self-absorbed but some others could call him simply ambitious. Even If he drives you mad sometimes, especially while whiny screaming to your ear when he loses, you cannot hate him. You simply cannot.

But now another yell was heard from the court and you were sure that the loud ass they were, the whole beach could hear far away from there. Especially shouts of the biggest nervous rabbit of all.

After some minutes of watching the kids playing around, you get back into your book. The couple was just about to kiss when the awful taste of sand reached your tongue and cold drops of water met your heated-up legs. You were ready to throw your hands and start to yell for stopping you in such a romantic moment till you actually met your gaze with a boy. His smiling face even if it didn't exactly ease your anger, as you send one of your looks that if it could kill he would be dead for sure, made you calmer a bit. You would regret all of it later when a giggle left his lips.

“Sorry, I wasn't meant to” he sent you another adorable smile and lay down next to you.

His wet, slightly cold skin met with yours and goosebumps covered your body. Yet you couldn’t even be upset at him for a minute more because of his persona. Always enchanting you with shiny eyes. But he looked down at your skin, fingers brushing the small bulges and his eyes changed into worried ones. But you nudged him gently and your gazes met so he could meet a reassuring smile. He knew it was okay. It's nothing bad. And he lay down gently, but with hand still, so close your body.

“Kids tire you out?” The question broke the silence, and a small chuckle made you look at his peaceful face, looking at you with adoration like he usually does. As one of your best friends.

“Nah, I just wanted to spend some time with you”

“How romantic” he snorted at your sarcasm and stuck his head under the cover of your book to be with his head and wet hair on your thighs. Jungkook's eyes were now closed, pretending to completely relax when you bumped him slightly with the hardcover of the book to meet his confused sight. “Are you joking right now?” you said, being almost sure that hell ignored you but to your surprise, words leaving his mouth

“Not even a bit, my dear�� A big smile could be seen by everyone around which just makes your eyelids come closer together.

“Remind me to kill you another time” you huffed, getting back to the lecture.

“You couldn't, your love for me is too big”

And he was right but nobody knows about it. What were you supposed to do anyway? These feelings clung to you two years ago when you and boy just met. Back then you didn't know how close both of you would become. And how… enchantingly he will behave with you. Sometimes, it was too hard for you. Too hard not to wish for more.

He was just different, stunning from afar and close. His often loud personality and infectious laugh only added to it. But he could also stay quiet if it's needed and give you support along with the peace you truly need. He could make you feel better without even talking. His presence was enough. His aura was making you more than happy.

Recollections of the time you spent together with him popped up before your eyes, and the sound of his laughing echoed happily in your ears. Cute pouting when he loses in some stupid game or adorable nose scrunches he made while smiling charm you to this point that sometimes you couldn't bear. Even while eating, you could see by his face if it was good or not.

Face filled with confusion?

Damn, food is good.

And it was so adorable for you. He was so adorable to you. But also…he was just too beautiful for you. Inside and outside. But you were under his spell and there was no one to break the weird feeling that grew up inside your chest.

“Are you there, dear? I'm worried.” you glanced down, finding his nut-brown eyes peering into your face, making your face flush red, which fortunately could be explained by sunlight

“I am, Jungkook”

“Excuse me? Where is ‘Koo’ or ‘Googie’ or ‘Bun’, should I be mad?”

You did not answer, just brushed his hair gently with your fingers making him hum quietly, and shut up just for a second. And yeah, it was enough for you anyway. Anytime when you could only stare at him was enough…

But do you think he will just shut up? REALLY Did you think it was over? Don’t you know Jeon Jeongguk long enough?

“Did you know that sharks have their own underwater café?” you sighed, brushing his hair faster hoping it would do something - like stop him from talking - but nah, there is no way. He only begins again.

“Oh my God, not again your trivia about nothing and everything” you huffed already, couldn't focus on your book

“Yah! Don't be rude just one more time” He grunted, hitting your leg lightly.

“I didn't even try” you took hand from his hair to flip the page but he quickly took it back, making you give up on the lecture and pay attention to him. So with a hand buried in his hair, you have to quietly stare at him and listen.

“Then look and listen to me.”

Perfect.

Like that, you ended up hearing about the scientists who discovered an area in a remote part of the Pacific Ocean where typically coastal great white sharks will migrate to in the winter. And this place they call White Shark Café.

While he was talking with his eyes closed, you were just stunned by his flawless beauty. The light of the sun on his skin made you even more amazed. The euphoric feeling went down your spine every time the small grin showed on his face while talking about nothing. This makes you calm, he makes you calm, and lucky. You felt just lucky to have him by your side.

And sometimes, it is just comforting to see his face. You don't have to talk, you don't have to spend a lot of time together, you don't even need to be close. Just a small smile on his face. Little dimples showing on his cheeks. Even while he squints his eyes because he's concentrating on something or can't see something can make you chuckle. And you never do it because you're making fun of him. You just realize with each passing moment how a relaxed state comes over your tired shoulders just by seeing him. How you want to smile again, and how your breath can get deeper and not so shallow because of constant anxiety.

You ask yourself often, how just looking into someone's eyes can make you cry at the same time so burning happily inside your chest. How it is that you feel so safe only by looking. Moles here and there make you connect them with eyes, looking for constellations, and even if there aren't too many of them sometimes, the one becomes the only shining star you're longing to see every time.

Oh, how much you wanted to squish his cheeks. 'Cause every time he squishes them when lazily puts hands on just out of the tiredness, your heart pounds like crazy. When he pouts lips while thinking about something, and you sometimes find the courage to admire his facial expressions, he covers red ears with hands because he's embarrassed, making you adorably smile.

He just…makes you a different person. Sometimes you'd say a happy one, even if you don't really can stay in this state of mind for long. So when another smile, upper cheeks puffing cutely, and eyes dancing, lit up from time to time, your heart bursts with a warm feeling.

How much only one joyful grimace can bring you comfort and hope…hope that everything, in the end, will be fine and you will be loved.

He just brings out the best of you. No matter how much you’ll try to pretend that he annoys you like hell when sometimes the one and only thing you want is for him to disappear. He`ll stay, making you fall even more. And now you couldn't stop yourself, as hand brushes his cheek gently which made him open his eyes and again look into yours. They were shining just like the sun and the stars.

“Everything kay?” He asked, melting your heart even more but you just hummed and quickly looked away to avoid the embarrassing situation that you put yourself in.

And at first, you thought it worked but when he came up, you knew that you were in trouble because when Jeon Jeongguk is worried, you cannot stop him from trying to get to the real reason for your behavior. Firstly he scanned all your face, especially your eyes from which he could often tell what was really going on inside, that is why you were so afraid to look him in the eye for longer than some seconds. Secondly, when he found even a bit of worry in your eyes, his fingers gently grasped your hand and locked it in a tight embrace. That's how it's ending right now, makes you even more awkward but at the same time your heart happily singed ballads inside your chest.

“What's going on with you two today?” Jimin's voice startled you, forcing you to violently pull your hand away from Jungkook and pretend like nothing happened. And for a few seconds, you felt like you could not breathe.

As much as you wished for your feelings for Jeongguk to be mutual. At the same time, you didn't want anyone to realize any sooner than he did that your heart could beat so fast just for him. This time, the dark-haired man's hand still gently caressing your skin failed to bring peace to you. Still, a tightness of insecurity and a kind of sadness clung to you and you couldn't get rid of it.

You knew you had to escape.

So you picked yourself up from the sand, gave Seokjin- your closest friend right after Jungkook - a knowing look, and explained to everyone that you're going to take some more sun and check the water. So you walked down the beach, closer to the sea trying to calm your fast-beating heart. The sound of waves calmed you a bit but this strange feeling still clung to you.

And for a longer while you just stood there watching the horizon. Chilly water from time to time gets to your legs making you shiver slightly. Feet buried in the sand after a while, as the sea waves were soaking the ground under your weight. Crushed shell fragments that slightly irritate your toes, the sound of smashing waves somehow soothes you. You could see how the sea was kissing the shorelines, and your heart somehow stung painfully. Because when will be the right time for you? When you will be truly happy and honest with him. You will tell that his presence is picking up all the messed-up pieces.

“Okay, listen here girl,” a Sudden voice made your shoulders jump, and hands went to your chest as heart started pounding faster 'cause of fear “If you don't tell him today, I'll, and I don't give a shit about your no.”

Have I said nobody knows about your feelings? Well, there’s Jin. This type of best friend who took his nose everywhere he could and sometimes you really loved it about him. But it's only sometimes.

“That's not so easy Seokjin,” you mumbled, facing him with a hard expression painted on your face.

“Listen, I cannot stand your painful face anytime you fight with yourself being close to him. That hurt me as hell y/n. You're my best friend and I don't want to see you like this.” His hands landed on your shoulders to shake you stronger as if that would somehow change your thinking here and now ”Also believe me, I'd love to punch Jimin for today! How he could stop in such a moment! Girl, you know how JK looked at you! Why don't you see that he's into you too,” he huffed, splashing water on you with his leg but you groaned

“I'm not enough okay? That's it,” you murmured, dropping his hands to look at the horizon where small clouds floated slowly and carelessly across the blue sky.

“Yes, you are God damn! You're more than enough and you know it. C'mon, girl…” he punched your arm gently with a laugh but it wasn't funny for you. Not this time, when you don't know what to do anymore.

The silence fell between both of you with your eyes fixed on the swaying water and the rays reflecting within it. This sense of being pathetic and useless once again gripped your body. Is it going to be like that? The words will be never said and the emotions will hide inside until they tear you apart. You hated bottling feelings up, but what could you do? You didn't want to end this friendship. But how much you have to go through to be truly happy without a doubt.

“Sorry for the disturbance. We're going back to the hotel.” The different tones of Jungkook's voice made you confused as he came for a second to spit some words out of his mouth.

Is he really mad at you now?

Or just because you have to get back to our rooms?

Yet you didn't say anything, and as he disappeared you looked sadly at Jin with a sigh and quietly walked back to the hotel, wondering if you should end it all.

-*-

Your body slumped on the bed with your head poked under the pillow was supposed to bring some peace as one girl from the group of yours you shared a room with left, asking beforehand if you were also going. But you didn't even bother to ask where, you just threw a short negative burp so that she simply disappeared behind the door slamming it behind her. You were hoping for a moment, a longer moment of peace. Maybe hoping for your head to start working and helping you to start figuring out what to do about the whole Jungkook situation, which seemed to drag on endlessly

“Hey y/n, are you coming?” Jin's head peeked out of the door and greeted you with a gentle smile but you groaned, knowing that your peace was gone. But still, you ignored him at first, pressing the pillow against your head even harder

“Where and why?” you said as he started to poke you in the back, as your face was buried into the mattress. A muffled voice of yours could be barely heard by a boy. But he heard and poked your back stronger now, it was almost like irritating pinching.

“To see the sunset? C'mon, everyone is coming,” he said with a whiny voice, but you only groaned again, pressing your face deeper into the mattress.

“Have fun then” you mumbled and just for a second, you thought he was gone but the cold hands gripped onto your ankles and dragged you out of bed with a loud bang. “What the fuck Seokjin!”

You looked at him with a furious look as you lay on the ground and rubbed the sore spot from the falling down. After the situation on the beach, you in no way wanted to leave the room at least until the next day.

When you all returned to the hotel, after changing into fresh clothes and taking a moment to get wrapped up, most of the group decided that it would be an ideal idea to go out on the town. And yes, usually soaking up new cultures and exploring new places was one of your favorite activities on any tour, but this time Jungkook's heavy gaze on your back was…foreign, filling you with uncertainty.

And you really tried to speak up. But every attempt you made to start a conversation while walking next to him ended with him shrugging his shoulders or silently grunting. And you tried also to show him anything you found funny or interesting to be ignored again. As everyone laughed, trying on all sorts of ridiculous hats or headbands on their heads, or just in general - having fun - you stood at one side of the street booth with souvenirs and the boy at the other. Both with grave faces, as it was hard for you to smile when you knew Jeongguk was angry with you. You still didn't know why, but it brought such a heavy weight to your chest that it really felt like crying.

And when you finally returned to the room, single tears actually flew down your cheeks. Tears of anger mixed with confusion. Because, after all, you are both adults, so why can't you talk like ones?

“Jin, leave me alone. I don't want to,” you whined, wanting to get back on the mattress but his hands grabbed you right away as you stood up from the floor.

“And do you think I care? Nope! Get your ass up, we have a boyfriend to catch.”

“I hate you with my whole heart” you hissed and rubbed down the hurting leg.

“Mutually” he winked and pulled you out of the hotel room. This time, less aggressive.

The sky over the sea began to take on colors of pink and red. Small clouds floated, creating different shapes bewildering you every moment and making you realize how much you loved sunsets. Feeling a little squishy sand under your feet again could work a miracle for your running head. The smell was fresh, and even the fire smoke that was floating in the air couldn't change that. The salty fragrance still softly tickles your nostrils. It was almost like your dream heaven. Almost.

From a distance, you could see a bonfire burning on the beach, around which most of your friends were already sitting, but your gaze, as always, rested on only one of them. He seemed different, a bit dim, and his smile did not adorn his face as it usually did. This made you worry. But you could do nothing, even if you wanted to do something so much. Because inside you knew that it was all your fault.

When you came near the fireplace, Jin immediately pulled you hard and took you to sit next to Jungkook but it only made your stomach flip because of nervousness that he may simply leave. That he won't hold your hand anymore, and his warmth is not going to wrap you in comfort. But he didn't leave. His arm was touching yours, and his skin felt as warm as you imagined it to be. A faint scent of his cologne mixed with usual cotton soothed you a bit, but you still knew he was mad.

And you still wondered why.

Both of you barely spoke as the sun was still up. Other people were laughing, singing, and drinking. And maybe he was mad, and maybe he was mad at you…but he almost always knew when you were god damn anxious about something, and this time he also knew. As you were sitting down, observing, your leg was bouncing nervously for a while, and as your and the boy's leg was so close, he could feel even the slightest moves of it. His hand quickly found its way to your tight. And the gentle touches of Jungkook's fingers on your exposed leg, make pleasant goosebumps. How he almost unnoticeably traces lines on your skin. Cool down the nervousness, and tossing fires inside you. With one touch he says that he is right next to you. For you.

Oh, how you loved him.

And as the sun was gone, instead appeared his good friend - the moon, which was now reflected in the surface of the calm sea. Moonlight was amazing, always making you marvel at it while holding a breath. Shining on the water makes you plunge into melancholy. The view was breathtaking, forcing you to get up from the sand and come closer to the sea. Away from the lights, away from other people. Just you, and the moon reflecting in the sea. And you knew that Jungkook would follow you.

“In Turkey, they call it Gumusservi, and it has no translation in English. In English, it's just moonlight shining on the water…but Gumusservi hits differently, don't you think?” Bright light fell on Jungkook's face, highlighting all his details. You could admire it for a minute. His outlined jaw and perfectly shaped lips didn't allow you to take your eyes off him. The small tip of his nose, on which the bright light coming from the moon was reflected, looked like the perfect place where your lips would want to be now. So that you could see it wrinkle gently right away when he got shy.

But it didn't happen as his face turned in your direction as he felt your stare. Now the only thing you saw was his shimmering eyes. He was shining.

“It sounds beautiful. Magically.” you couldn't stop yourself this time from looking into his eyes as he sat down next to you on the sand. His hand again brushed your skin and a smile danced on your lips on its own “I'm sorry” you gasped out, taking your eyes from him.

“Huh? For what” he glanced with confusion so you left a deep sigh

“I actually don't know…I mean, you're mad and I don't…” confusion took over you as he held your hand to leave a small peck on it

“I'm not mad. I can't be mad at you, more like myself. I should be the one saying sorry, for ignoring you and being a dumb ass…” he laughed miserably and looked at the ocean.

“Koo I…shit, I need to tell you something.” you felt lost in words but you knew it was your moment. The moment when everything ends or begins. “So yeah, um…”

“Hey, calm down. Your breathing became swallowed” he was much closer than before as his arm gently wrapped around your waist and guided you to put your head on his shoulder as he brushed circles on your hip

“Let me tell you first, please” his arm was still on your waist but you looked him in the eye as he nodded for you to speak “I'm sorry anyway”

“Y/N…” “I'm sorry that I was unable to show what I really feel. Unable to express how, how much I care about you and not just as a friend. Little do you know how deeply I want to be enough for you.” you felt his fingers press harder on your skin.

“ Huh, enough for me?” Now you couldn't look at him, it was hard for you to breathe ”Look at me, dear. You’re more than I ever wanted in my life.” your eyes widened, as his fingers brushed your jaw to make you look at him.

“Koo…”

“Y/N, you're the only person who really accepts all sides of my personality, and with whom I feel safe and loved. Your presence always made my heart beat faster. And shit, I tried to ignore it. Because I thought it’s not what you want. That you prefer someone who's smarter, calmer, and more like you. I mean, we`re completely opposite but still, I fell.”

“I-I didn’t know you like me… I just thought you liked me as a friend. Nothing more. Just look at me, I'm no one besides you but still, I dreamed about us,” you laughed to yourself “Hoping that the connection between us will be even stronger than it is. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry if I made you feel somehow worse. I’ve never wanted to make the person I love hurt in any way. I’m in love with you so fucking deeply and I'm terrified of this. Because I don’t know…ugh, how…to express what It feels when you’re next to me. How warm it feels to hold your hand or just be near you.”

“I don’t want your apologies, the only thing I want right now is to hold you. Are you okay with that?”

“More than okay” he smiled, and his soft lips pecked your forehead making your heart dance happily inside

"Okay guys, what the fuck with you" your eyes widened hearing Jimin’s voice behind your back but it was a second as a rushing Jin raced towards the blond boy to knock him over onto the sand, roll him a bit, and rub his face trying to shut him up.

"I said I will beat your ass and I will," Jin said, tugging on the already slightly tipsy Jimin to lead him away from the two of you.

You and Jungkook exchanged surprised glances, only to burst out laughing in a moment while still staying in each other's embrace.

The next moment between the two of you was silent. But it was this silence you adored so much. When he was giving you small signs that he's right next to you and will follow as long as he can.

He was so whipped for you since day one, and he often got mad when you refused his affection right in front of friends. Because he wanted to show that he is yours and he wishes you to be his as well. But he understood you, knew that you're not so much of a touchy person…especially in front of people. But when both of you spend time alone you never push his hand, always brushing softly his fingers with yours…making him go crazy.

He was crazy over you.

"I can't believe it's happening" your head snapped at his sudden voice, so you could another time adore his face from so close.

"What you mean Koo?

"You, like damn…You’re perfect to me in any way and don’t you even dare think differently." you laughed as he whined trying to hide in the crook of your neck "You’re the love of my life y/n and nobody can change it" He added.

You sighed brushing hair falling on his face, same as him still couldn't believe it was really happening. That you really can hold him so close, that his hand embraces you so safely, and that he really loves you back.

"I'm so glad," you said, making him lift his chin with a hum and look at your face, brushing your jaw softly with his nose "That you chose me" he chuckled, as if he couldn't believe you just said that

"How could I not? We’ll walk this path together Y/n, learning how to love each other even more. Because you’re my light, without which I wouldn’t be able to see the right direction." You smiled, feeling how your heart filled with warmth another time. Like almost every time with him.

And when the moon was shining so bright, changing water into enchanting silver, your dreamy eyes were watching him. Your private source of light and happiness you have been longing for so long.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine

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deadboyfriendd · 1 year

Text

Cochise Il: Mudsill

Summary: The morning after his first day reaps a certain morosity with it. After a gruesome shootout with a grisly outcome, he vows not only to protect this town, but you as well. In more ways than one. The second part of Cochise. Sequel to Nellie.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, period-appropriate death, suggestions of lynching and public execution, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse (the horse watches in this one), ride a cowboy, smut included, death of a spouse discussed in this, blood and wounds (gunshots), minor unintentional self-harm, unprotected p in v, creampie

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: This is for Drac <3 thank you for beta reading! And also for dealing with me going, “now what?” every fifteen seconds, and also for being my nepo goth mommy and being the only reason I get reads on this godforsaken app and also for indulging me in this fantasy and also for ominously looming over my docs because the performance anxiety makes me write better and more consistently.

Find the series masterlist here!

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed

In one self place, for where we are is hell,

And where hell is must we ever be.

The morning is nonetheless blistering, no qualms of early warmth and birds singing. Here, the sun meant silence, this world turned itself over to the night and reaped rest by the break of dawn just to escape its harshness until winter. Not all would make it. By five the blossom of the night-blooming cereus will have shriveled away, and by six the earth would begin to heat.

The sun does not rest, only lies in wait. Remnants of it settling in the sand beneath him.

He awakes with a groan and a pulling sting that blossoms across his neck and face at the first stale movements of wake. He could hear the vacant crunch of footsteps against gravel, hollow and softened by the fine sand beneath them. A shadow overtook him, one that granted a relief like the sour sting of white chocolate against the prevalence of melting.

“Well, good morning, Edward.” His eyes nearly crossed to look up towards you, attempting to make out any of the features of your face. They were too backlit from the sun and his eyes were still too sensitive. A basket for laundry sat firm against your hip, emptied. Above you, there is a line strung from one ironwood to the next, a washbasin several feet away with suds still running down the sides.

He bears his senses, pulling his mind away from that celestial body it rested in the previous night. He tried not to think of your supple nature in front of him, the way your silken skin felt beneath his fingers or the way the ends of your hair tickled against his belly within his dream. It was up now, twisted into braids and tucked unto itself.

His face and neck are red, you aren't incredibly introspective, and you can’t tell if it is a blush or the beginnings of a sunburn. You waited to wake him, washing and hanging your laundry before the break of dawn. He seemed tired, but leaving him out in the sun seemed downright cruel. You ‘d think of him in the same respects as the rattlesnake– the one who cooks from the outside in when it sits in the sand too long.

You offer your hand to him, and he takes it. You are much stronger than your body implies, taking on the weight of him with a pull, hands calloused from housework and the general husbandry that comes from western living.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You asked behind a grin, by now his eyes had adjusted and settled on the whites of your teeth and the upturned fat of your face.

“Apparently I was the only one that wanted to.” He was sore from the ground, though he couldn’t quite tell if his tailbone hurt from the sand or the train to Tombstone. He watched you in stride, taking a few of your smaller ones ahead of him.

You giggled softly, and it sounded like church bells. You looked over your shoulder at him, and he couldn’t bring himself to watch your eyes, instead, settling on the way the flesh of your neck folded at the crease. He counted the moles to ground himself, “The west never rests, Edward.”

He followed your stride for a few steps, his long strides becoming staccatos in comparison to yours. He looked down at his feet, avoiding rocks beneath him in his still-weary state and watching the dust kick up from beneath your heels to collect on the front of his boots.

The gold of your earring refracted a light that brushed across your cheek, had Eddie not been staring so intently, he would have missed it. He’s glad he didn’t. “Steve already came ‘round this morning. Said a telegraph came in for you. Trains’ delayed ‘till ‘bout tomorrow.”

The confession hit him like a shot to the chest, and he could help the dramatization of the groan that escaped him, “Christ.”

“Got something important on that cargo train?” You raised a poignant eyebrow at him, more motherly in nature. It questioned the dramatics more than his personage.

He shook his head, unable to stop himself from chuckling at his own bad luck, “Only my horse… and everything else.”

“I see.” You nodded back in repose, turning your body back to face him. Your hands still clutching the laundry basket braced over your hip, “Well, let's see if we can’t scrape up some fresh clothes for you to wear then.”

You reach your hand out towards him in invitation, his own forbearance of politeness and handshakes prompts him to reach out, though, you don’t seem to let go. You don’t notice the rouge of his cheeks or along the tips of his ears in schoolboy embarrassment beneath his sunburn. Your hands aren’t soft, not like the other women he’s touched. Your hands have been kissed with the calluses of men’s work. Ropes on horses and hands on guns. His memories reel back to your husband, the slack you were forced to receive in his absence. You wouldn’t have to pick up any slack on Eddie, he didn’t plan on dying soon. Not if he could help it.

You use your hand like a reign, pulling him towards the wrought-iron staircase within the bar that led to your home. The staircase rocked with each footstep – a solid structure that seemed not-quite fixated to its endpoints.

He looked around at the corridor, modest, but nevertheless a home. The dark wood on the floors closely resembled the mahogany excessiveness of The Grand Hotel, though, the expanse of it was limited to the flooring. A pale Mexican plaster covered the vast expanse of the walls, rounding the corners and archways into a smooth texture.

He noticed the boots by the door, covered in dust and much too large to be your own. It filled in the gaps where the empty spots on the wall still lie bare, and where the second dining chair had remained tucked neatly beneath the table. Though this place resembled a home, it was not. Instead, it housed the ghost of your husband. He laid in bed at night next to the shell of grief that resembled you, the decanter on the table filled with tears of loneliness and guilt.

You opened the thin door in the corridor, and he realized that all of your husband’s clothes had been moved here. He tried not to picture you pulling them out of the dresser they resided in, tried not to imagine the tears streaming down your face as you buried it within the fabric just to smell him again. Just to feel like he was close enough to touch one more time.

The garments were well-starched. A white high-collar shirt, black vest, black pants, black cravat. He was a man after Eddie’s own heart, that was for sure. You excuse yourself towards the kitchen, allowing him open access to the dressing room to change.

When he slipped through the door, loose on its hinges, he met your eyes– pressing and cold in nature. It wasn’t intentional, at least, not in the sense that your coldness was directed towards him. At an instant, your hands had found his chest, and he peered downwards to watch them, intently. It was a force of habit, righting a missed button and an off-set pattern on the vest. Once you corrected it, you laid them flat against his sternum.

He thought back to last night, the pressing warmth of your hands against his chest and the soft brush of your hair that tickled against his belly. He thought back to the purely pornographic sounds that resounded off the walls of The Grand Hotel in his dream. Though, you’d felt more human now, with the hurt in your eyes that dragged like a trunk you couldn’t rid yourself of. Your eyes carried a grief like granite, pulled from the quarry chipped into the mountain of your life and heavy on your soul.

He thought back to what The Sheriff had said to him, about picking up the slack when your husband died. Who had been there when you were grieving? Surely the sheriff, but he had said it himself. You had your pick, but had never taken another lover. He wondered if it could be him.

There is an ex-cathedra bass crescendo that reverberates against the dainty backing of tenor melodies in the bar at night, long after the dust has settled beneath the feet of the common folk. You never understood why the people here still chose to do their bidding during the day, when the sun casted an itching burn across the delicate cutaneous layers of exposed skin like lye.

It was not Christmas, and yet you’d found pieces of words in fragments of memories beneath your breath as you hammered against the keys with clumsy fingers. You grazed your tongue against your bottom lip, still in search of the remnants of sugar from the dried Christmas fruits you’d been given as a child.

There is a sombering solidarity in this aloneness, and in the way you no longer search for the feeling of your husband’s fingers against the cold ivory. It was just that now: cold. That emptiness would always linger, but that coldness of keys was now not for the absence of his warmth. They just were.

Eddie watched you from the gap in the glass door to the parlor, smoothing the hairs on his arms down from where the low, deep notes rattled in his coccyx. He let the press of the mesquite against his back keep him tethered to the earth. He’d recognized the song like a ghost, Christmases past like bugs with needle-prick feet crawling up his back in repose. Where your fingers lay heavy against untuned, rattling keys, he found a softness. A delicacy in this world that was anything but. He saw tarantula legs in your spindles of fingers, light and silent as they crawled across ivory.

There was not an inherent evil to the tarantula. Only existence.

Your own existence was different here. You weren’t so on edge now that you figured you were alone. He felt guilty taking advantage of your comfort like this, but your softness radiated light out past the windows and into the sand outside in a warm, golden glow. Your lashes kissed in the corners of your eyes, nursing against the apples of your cheeks as you looked down in concentration. He wanted to smooth out the line forming between your brows. Your hair lay wild, splayed across your shoulders and roused from the removal of your hat.

He adjusted himself against the door frame, the creak against the flooring from behind you sent you reeling upwards, the scratch-key a heavy hand against incorrect and out-of-tune keys. The man in black looming behind you like a shroud. You’d gasped without realizing it. He took a step forward, hand out in gentle appeasement as you whipped around, more startled than afraid. He registered it as fear. Your hand came to your chest in repulse, laying flat and tight against your breastbone.

He takes a few steps forward, quickly closing the gap between you. The echo from the heel of his boot bounced off your body and you convinced yourself that the ringing in your ears was from that alone.

“Woah, Nellie.” He’d said to you, softly, a pressing grin upturning crookedly at the corners of his lips. This was not the first time he’d used the horse moniker, and you’d figured this was not going to be the last. You’d blamed your own spooked nature at the way your breath did not fill your lungs completely and not the way Eddie’s warm hands felt as it picked yours up off of your chest, holding it between his two like a vice in apologetics.

You squeezed his hand under your fingers, shaking it slightly in annoyance, “You scared me half to death, Edward.”

“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, ma’am.” He’d said in apology, once again, yet the smile pulled across his face further, pretty teeth grazing against the suppleness of flesh.

You raised a brow at him, stern in nature, “When you smile something awful like that, it makes me think you did.”

His smile stretched wider in his face, a laugh coming to fruition in his chest and exhaling through his nose and over your face, “I didn’t. Honest.” Not that you really thought that he did in the first place.

His hand left yours and found itself around your waist, where the tautness of your dresses stretched over the softness of your hip. He grasped for skin beneath the ruching of the fabric over you, warm hand splayed across your back.

He was close — entirely too close to be considered professional or polite, but you welcomed it. You felt the breath from his nostrils, cooling against the bridge of your nose and dissipating across the crests of your cheeks. His lips parted, and the breath changed to warm. You could taste the tobacco that resided against his lips like the sugar you’d searched for on your own mere moments ago.

His weight against your chest is foreboding, and even the bracing from his wide palm cannot stop the soft step back you take. The heel of your own hand presses against a random selection of treble keys and creates an awful, off-putting sound that makes him jump.

You can’t stop the girlish giggle that slips past your lips at the momentary terror that registers in your eyes. You don’t know if it is because of the immediate karmic justice or the fact that he was so startled by the noise he just listened to from afar. He looks back down towards you with a look that mirrored your own previous one, trying to force the smile off of his face down into a scowl.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.” You laughed between syllables, quickly pulling the key cover over the tops of the ivories and resting back against them.

“Well, you’re smiling something awful like you did.”

The air outside was still. Too still. Like it lies in wait of travesty that happened in a near-constant turnstile. There is no one in the streets tonight, the party crowd gathered before the stage of The Grand Hotel to watch tonight’s opening of Faustus.

However, Hell would not just be a frame of mind tonight.

Michael ‘Mudsill’ Doten leaks off the steps of The Grand Hotel in a clumsy choreography of laudanum and drink, pupils blown wide in an opiate tincture waltz. The peacemaker across his hip a metronome of depravity waiting for the subtle fingertip of quarter counts to off-beat.

He howls at the moon, firing one, two shots towards it into the open air. It both draws townspeople towards and away from the scenery. Marshall Milt Kilmer steps off the balcony of The Grand Hotel haughtily, fumbling with the weapon holstered against his side.

From behind the glass at the Whispering Sands, you stand at the sound of gunshots, hands finding your own weapon holstered beneath the folds of your dresses. Eddie’s large palm finds your shoulder, squeezing softly in a promise of not us. His other hand met the stock of his gun, tucked away in the shoulder holster against his waist.

“Michael! Come on now.” You heard Milt start, sound clear despite being muffled by glass. The commotion must have been right outside your window. Eddie and yourself listened from behind the front door, air between your bodies stagnant in wait.

Michael was slovenly, more so than usual, “Well, howdy Milt.” He stumbled, lame as a duck and ten times more disgusting. He wielded his pistol like a bomb with the pin pilled, a travesty in wait.

“Alright, hand those over, Michel.” Milt insists, gun wielded in defense against Michael. The commotion has attracted onlookers that seeped from ant pile buildings in uneasy swarms – the Doten family leaking out and congregating in their own slovenly hive like wasps, “Hand ‘em over!” Milt calls, more firm this time.

Micahel takes a look around, then back at the County Marshall before him. His pupils are blown wide like dinner plates, “Okay, Milt, I’ll hand ‘em over. It’s only fun. Here you go.”

But what are thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?

There is a split second in which you can see the silver line between life and death, in which you can walk the plane between realms. There reaps a morosity heavy on your heart in the fractions of a second before a man’s life ends. It is entirely too familiar to you, and you crumble under the weight of it all. You don’t hear the crack of the gun, and you don’t see Milt’s body fall limp, but you see the breath that falls from his lips that keeps his soul on a lark. You try to catch it in your hands to force back into his lungs. Running towards his body felt like wading through sand, burning hot and suffocating around your waist. He was dead by the time your hands cupped around his shoulder, but the remnant of his essence felt like a sheet, drowning you in the great planes of the Gila.

“Milt? Come on now.” Michael said, the gun long dropped on the ground. He nudged Milt’s boot with his own, unable to process the velocity of the events that transpired just moments before.

The sheriff is fast to rush Michael, cracking the stock of his own peacemaker across the crown of the man before him, the body dropping heavy against the sand to your left. Heavy, but still alive.

Everything is heavy. The weight that you bear crouched beside Milt’s body, the way Michael slumped into the sand beside you, the crowd gathering around the sudden onslaught of commotion, and the hand against your back that undoubtedly belonged to Edward.

“Get him off the street.” Steve ordered, sweeping his peacemaker around in a circle to fend off the feigning crowd, “Alright, back off.” He said, stern and loud. You’d have half a mind to be afraid of him when he was like this, if you weren’t still in shock.

“Get a rope!” Someone from the town said, stepping down from a nearby patio.

“String him up!”

Edward could sense the rising tension, his other hand coming firmly around the taught expanse of your waist and pulling you back without giving you room to fight. You stumbled backwards in a stupor, hot tears streaming down your face emotionlessly. You were a stone. A puppet in his hands watching the scene before you unfold.

Steve’s face hardened, jaw clenched under cold eyes, “Nobody’s hanging anybody.”

“He just killed a man–”

“And he’ll stand trial for it. Now, get back! Move!” Steve made sure the hammer was pulled back on his gun, serious as sin. You don’t think you’d ever seen him this scary before. You didn’t think he could be this scary at all.

“Turn him loose.” One of the town patrons called from the building riot, stepping forward from the mass. He was a dirty cattle pusher that still carried the grime and anger of a juvenile foal. When Steve gave him a cold stare-down, he spoke up once more, “He said to turn loose of him.”

“I’m not, so go home.” Steve said again, face like a stone.

Another voice emerged from the crowd, “I swear to God, law dog, you step aside or we’ll tear you apart.” He was an older man with a scraggly beard, wiry hair to match his wiry nature, a dust-alden bandana hanging loosely off the skeleton-physique. He wielded his own weapon, pointing it at the Sheriff. He knew he was outnumbered, but wouldn’t back down. You wanted to cry out, to let them lynch Michael. Anything to avoid watching someone you care about die again. Anything to avoid feeling that.

Steve took a step forward, pressing the barrel directly to the forehead of the old man. Hard enough for it to leave an indentation on the skin.

“You die first, got it? Your friends might rush me later but not before I kill you first.” Steve’s eyes had hardened from something stone-cold to something ablaze. His eyes reaped the anger of the afternoon sun, alight with anger. Anger from defiance. Anger for Milt. “You understand me?”

“He’s bluffing, let’s rush him” The younger man spoke up, further trying to entice the crowd. Everyone else was at a standstill, tension so taught, that if that wire snapped, it could recoil and kill both Steve and the other man.

The old man’s eyes went wide, hands splayed out in a half surrender, half heeding motion, “No! He isn’t bluffing. Don’t rush him.” He pleaded, as if he were staring death in the face. By the look of rage and hunger alight behind Steve’s eyes, you were sure he was.

This time, the sheriff went quiet, talking only to the man in front of him, “You aren’t as stupid as you look. Now tell them to get back. “

“Go on, now, get back.” The old man said, hands still upward in surrender. The statement was shaking and quiet, unsure and teetering between tears. “Go on!” He said, louder this time, a plea for his life.

“He’ll kill me.” He whispered, a single salty tear streaking through the fine layer of sand on his face. The crowd dissipated back, the yelling and demands of public execution coming to a gelatinous quiet.

Edward removed his hand from your waist, putting the pistol from beneath his arm. He pulled the hammer back without question, pointing it at the young cattle-hand that started this all.

“And you, big boy, you’re next.” He spoke it like a promise. Like a prayer. If you hadn’t been magnified by everyone's slightest move, you would have missed the way Steve’s eyes met you before he nodded in Edward’s direction.

The train comes by way of Texas Pacific that next morning, long before the break of dawn, and Eddie’s steamer trunk and horse were brought by means of Butterfield’s Overland as the sun was breaking darkness over the horizon.

You don’t remember the sun turning over the next morning until you are blinded by the sudden onslaught of neon orange through the glass of the Whispering Sands. Your eyes feel dry, juxtaposed to the salty wetness of the rest of your face and the bottoms of your dresses, yet you kept scrubbing.

That wretched spot in the middle of the floor that was beginning to divot from where the wood had worn away, yet you swore you could still see the dark coagulants of blood pooling between the grain. Maybe it was your own.

There, where your husband lay dying, where his final breaths sputtered and choked from the blood that congealed within his lungs and escaped the gaping hole in his sternum. Where the unnamed bandolero lay already dead in your doorway, an iron barrel burning a vicious welt into your leg as your hands desperately plunged into the red pool forming within your husband’s chest. That night, the blood of two men covered your hands.

The only evidence that anything had ever happened here was the mild divot on the floor and the blood seeping from your skinless knuckles and you scrubbed salt over the ghosts that resided between these floorboards and in these stools. You haunted this place in search of your husband, who would no longer be found at the piano or behind the bar. You were a ghost in your own rights.

That holy shape becomes a devil, best.

The laundry outside needs tending, and you let the burn from your knuckles tether you to this mortal plane, the unpleasant stick of your wet overcoat sticking ad unsticking from your knees and making them raw as you mundanely schlop wet clothes from the washbasin and pin them to the wire.

You hear Edward round the corner, shrouded in the shadow from the smoky black quarter horse. Though quiet as they try, the equine presence is never quiet. He clears his throat haughtily, though you fail to recognize if it was him or the horse blowing a hefty breath through large nostrils.

“Ma’am.” He started. Your nose was still red and your under eyes were still swollen from the night before, though, he hadn’t originally meant to say anything. Watching a man die was hard, he knew that you would have understood that. You looked like you had died and been resurrected when you turned to face him, hair frizzy and half escaping the braid that hadn’t been touched since the days before tucked beneath your hat, clothes sopping wet and hands bleeding.

“What did you do to your hands?” He asked, suddenly softer now. He reached down to grab your hands, the sides of his calloused fingers scraping the undersides of your own calloused palms.

“Tending to the floors.” You said to him, barely above a whisper. You wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You're soaked.” He observed, taking a step back to look down the front of your buckskin overskirts. Without a doubt, your underskirt and bloomers clung to your skin beneath as well, no longer dripping due to the warming sun.

He understood what was happening here, the frantic nature in the way you scrubbed the floors matched the way he scrubbed his own body raw from the blood that covered his skin. He knew your hurt all too well.

You mustered the courage to look him in the face as he inspected the outer edges of your knuckles with a tenderness that nearly brought the tears spilling back from your eyes. It was a tenderness that you hadn’t known in so long. It was like you were witnessing him from outside of your own body, through the eyes of a spider. You could count the smattering of freckles across his nose– those akin to a schoolboy, endearing in nature. A scar of what no longer remained. While he looked for signs of infection and wood shrapnel and remaining salt, you looked at the near perfection in which his thick lashes brushed from his lid to his cheek and you understood that God may not have been forgiving, but He certainly was real.

A fluttering, frantic desire builds in your core when you slot your lips against his. This feeling was not akin to butterflies and moths. It was frantic, more persistent. Like that of the hummingbirds that drank from the cactus blossoms in the cooler mornings. You watched them in silence, searching and flying entirely too close. Fast and sure. All you can feel is the dry cracking against softness as his startled breath dissipates across your own mouth.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him, only pulling a mere few centimeters away. You were not sorry, but you were polite enough to fake it.

“Don’t.”

He drops your hands, fingers scrambling for purchase against the tautness where your vest is slotted tight over your waist, clutching at fabric in search of skin instead. You reel closer, your own hat bumping the brim of his and falling off your head. It is frantic and sloppy and full of an animalistic reproach. The heat of his skin and lips is no different from the staleness of the desert around you. Your hands find his neck beneath his hair, tacky and slick with the sweat of the already blistering morning. You wanted him to touch you with all of the resolve of your dead lover, you wanted him to take you here in the sand– to make you shake and shiver all of the worries that had plagued you to the bone. To feel close to someone was foreboding, if you wanted to feel close you would have taken another lover. To feel safe with someone was something you clung to like a vice, for you hadn’t been safe since you’d started out west. You buzz like the fat hummingbirds in the saguaro blossoms when he hikes you close against him, aggressive without malaise. Both of his arms entrap you tightly, almost too tightly to be comfortable, and keeps a crushing weight to keep your body taught against his. You whine, all woman and all desperation, as your back braces against the rough stone texture of the brick behind you, his leg slotting between your thighs and casting a desperate friction to fruition.

When you gyrate your hip against his thigh, unsparingly, the broad planes of his hands cling to the valley of your back between your shoulder blades relentlessly. It brings you up towards him instead of away against the wall. You can feel the harness of his braced between your bodies, and it sparks a churning feeling deep in the pit of your belly. You are whining, his tongue funding purchase within your mouth and making a home there. He does not expect you to initiate the act, but when your hands slide down the tautness of his abdomen, and pull his shirt out from his trousers, he is surprised.

There is no sense of familiarity to this. Sure, you had been married. Laying with a man was no unexplored land for you, but this franticness, this panic and desperation was all new. It was risky, and it felt dirty, though, not incorrect. Edward reaches up, pulling the hat off of his head, his fingers turning tender against your waist as he guides you off of the wall and downwards into the sand. It is firm against your back and pleasantly warm.

You are not soft like in his dream. You do not whine or beg for him when you see all of him for the first time. You are relentless in undoing your own buttons and pulling your own shirt off. When you see him, he is tall and lean, there is a scarecrow-like nature to him, the gangliness clinging to him like the naivety of youth, though, just as you were all woman, he was all man. Even in his softness. He is soft in the way he looks down at you, and allows your eyes to skim over him. His awestruck nature forces you to resist the urge to cover yourself.

You are not womanly in the way you disregard the messiness of your hair, the tear streaks that stick against your hot cheeks, or the sand that sticks to your back as he lays you down. When he reaches a hand up to cup the side of your neck, it feels like walking that tightrope again– the one that teeters between the plane of life and death. This was a part of you that you no longer had resolve in. You did not think you would ever feel something that resembled your husband again. Though, as you walked this tightrope, it felt like crossing the threshold of your upstairs quarters again. His hands around you like a foundation and his arms around you like walls.

There is a change of pace as he kisses you this time, unhurriedly and exploring. Your fingers grasp around the thick bone of his wrists, thumbs tethering you to the ligaments of his wrists beneath his alabaster skin. There remains a tackiness on the front of your body from where the lye water soaked through your clothes and stuck to your skin, though, he didn’t seem to mind.

Behind the fast-paced nature and desperation of it all, there lies a sticky sweetness. Dark and slow-moving like molasses against your skin. It finds a resemblance in his lips against your neck that trail your collarbones. If it were a different circumstance, perhaps, this would have been slower. He would have taken you like a lover, something that more closely resembled the way he wanted you in the hazy fog of The Grand Hotel. But you needed him here and now, and he would have to give you that.

He does not have to ease your legs open with reproach like he had to do with the other girls, the ones who hid themselves away in meek shyness. Even in the open expanse of the desert before you, where, on the opposite side of this building, the town was awake and beginning to stir, there was a profound lack of meekness to your demeanor. There would be no begging from your lips, though, you didn’t need to. You had him already. You had him as soon as you’d met him.

He found himself tepid, “Do you still want me to–”

“I want you to fuck me, Edward.” You’d insisted, and he was taken aback by it. Though, he was not going to deny you. Not with the sweat pooling between the valley on your breasts and your curls sticking to your forehead. He wouldn’t have denied you anyways.

“Okay.”

His voice was hoarse, moan rumbling low and deep from the confines of his lungs. He is rushed with feeling– taken aback by the crudeness of your language and comfort with your raw body. This was not what he had dreamed of, but rarely was it ever. The thrill changed quickly from an excited tingle to an aching need. His thumbs pull the hair from your face as he braces himself on his elbows, the soft smattering of hair on his stomach becoming flush with yours.

You didn’t understand before the softness that lay just beneath the layer of dust that settles over him, the roundness to the apples of his cheeks or the plush of his lips. Though, now that he was this close, it was hard not to miss. His eyes, though you had only ever seen them dark and angry, were now a golden honey against the tan backdrop of the desert. It resembled the waning orange of the sunrise you were too forlorn to watch this morning.

There was a resounding softness in his promises of, “I’ll take care of you” that reverberated with the building of tears that formed against his pretty lash line, though, not enough to break the surface tension and spill over his even prettier face.

There is a relentlessness in the way he rocks his hips against your core, desperate for the feeling of closeness. A single tear buds against the corner of his eye, dripping down his pretty red cheek and on to your chest. You had half a mind to swipe it away with your thumb. He fucks you languidly in the building spring heat. The tackiness of your skin turns to a slide as he works you.

His hips stutter in a pistoning motion, punching a moan out of your core that was not frilly or rehearsed. Please don’t stop’s resounding off of his chest like prayers. He is a little rougher than before, your back arching in pleasure. His voice is broken as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of your throat.

There is a certain inevitability, like you both know that this will need to come to an abrupt end, and you whine with the filthiness of it all. There is a soft soreness that buds from within your core, and from the way he cries out, whiny and vulnerable, you know he feels it, too. There is a reciprocating cry that resounds from both your mouths, and you know he has reached his apex when he spills inside of you, moving slowly and then coming to a stop.

You do not stop him when he drops a heavy head against your sternum, instead resulting in pushing the hair away from his face. His head bobs up and down on your chest as you breathe, his own falling out of sync with yours. There is a resounding whisper that leaves his lips, and you are not sure if you are meant to hear. You reply anyways.

“Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.” “It is a comfort to the wretched to have companions in misery.”

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