#quick note : it's full heavy angst.

[mechanicalinfection]

giving y'all's info on S.A.D. AU project for a brief moment while I doodle angst of the homosexuals. Sorry not sorry.

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[ladybyakuya]

| I WISH YOU ROSES + KAIJU NUMBER 8.

+cw. —f!reader, smut headcanon + scenarios format, sort of exs to lovers, mature content, angst and hurt, comfort, alcohol consumption, established relationship

+syn.— making amends after the fight. who apologizes first? does it always end up with sex? or is he sleeping on the couch tonight?

+wc. —1.5k

+notes. — wanted it to be super smutty but ended up with angst instead. enjoy and scream in tags if you like it| redirect to blog navigation.

→ [ ICHIKAWA RENO ]

reno would stare at the screen of his mobile phone opening your message box yet not send a single text to you. he is a little stubborn. in the spur of the moment, he said, “maybe we had nothing, to begin with in the first place.” those were some heavy words. he won't disagree. even liquor isn't enough to drown his feelings about you. why do people drink to forget their love anyway? it's stupid. it's so stupid. he locks his phone and then buries his head in his hands murmuring, “god why can't I just call her?" the rusty fizzy flavor is threatening his throat again. his phone starts to vibrate and rings a little later making him jump a bit but his reflexes were quick enough not to get you a first full ring. “hello? babe? is that you?”

“just call her man.” Iharu drawls from the other side and disconnects the call even though he sits opposite him. Reno looks at him ungodly pissed until the prior speaks up, “don’t waste your anger on me, dude.” Reno’s phone rings again.

“you’re doing this on purpose, aren't you picking on me?” Reno tartly responds holding his phone towards him so sure about that Iharu is doing it again but that dimwit is so drunk that he has to lean forward, squint his eyes at the screen.

“no dudee. It's your girl—” Reno picks up the phone but he doesn't speak.

“are you at a bar right now? i just finished my work.”

“yes, I’m. can I go pick you up?”

“of’course you can but I got a cab. bye. text me the address.”

When you reach at the bar you could easily spot him. He is sitting at the corner in a secluded area. Ofcourse he is. Then, there is Iharu practically drooling on the table.

“why are you here?”

“what do you mean why I'm here? You texted the address.”

“yes but aren't you angry? At me?”

“yes but I know better than to take you seriously when you are that angry. ” he looks away from your face. “we can talk about it if you are still upset.” he shoots you a lazy smile and gets up.

“what about him?”

“what about who?” reno asks with pinched eyebrows.

Iharu’s snores are quite loud by now. You look at Reno holding your hand out. He doesn't protest. He gives you his phone and says his passcode. He gets you. His words are not drawly but rather slower than usual. At first, you intend to call Kafka but both of them being a pain in the ass you texted his vice-captain.

The can ride from bar to home was silent. Reno was laying his head down on your shoulder, eyes closed but a little fidgeting was there every now and then. As soon as you reach your apartment complex he got out, even leant against the wall while being on the elevator. He's sulking. It's adorable sometimes. When you reach your shared apartment he doesn't come in stands outside until you ask him to.

“i’m sorry.” reno says loud enough to kick out the drowsiness out of his body. “i'm sorry, babe.”

“well, it was partly my fault too but —” you grab his collar and pull him towards yourself. his defense system is useless against you. “but I'm going to make it memorable.” you say unbuckling his pants. As soon as his trousers hit the floor Reno closes the door with a kick while you go to your knees. “perhaps we should fight more,”

With his member in your hand you look up at him and then blink. once. twice. thrice. And then get up and walk inside your room. A few seconds of silence and then Reno is walking on your trail left by you apologizing for a few more times until you just shut him up with the most sloppiest toe curling blow job.

→ [ GEN NARUMI ]

“do not walk away from me. I'm not done talking yet.” Narumi's voice is perfectly flat devoid any splotch of anger or even frustration. he is leaning against the door as you move from kitchen counter to the dinning table carrying the dishes, then cooked meals and a water bottle. his eyes are going back and forth waiting for you to say something, anything or just yell at him. he can handle your blood and tears, not this silent treatment.

“well, don't treat me like I'm one of your missions and we are good.” you exclaim with a low voice while waving a hand as if you were talking to yourself but actually you just wanted to beckon him for dinner.

“i don't us to be just good. I want us to be better, to be comfortable in each other's presence, even in thoughts. . .” and now he is going to lecture you, like one of his subordinates. there is an agonizingly awful silence filling the room as you wait for him to continue but he is just there, standing, still silent.

you turn your chair to spare a look at him. his stance is still the same, lazy and nonchalant. he isn't mocking you or your love for him. he genuinely cares for you.

“i mean it.” he starts walking towards you in faster pace than usual. “and you know that.” he stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. the moment you leave your seat he is going to pounce on you like a wounded animal. this has happened before and last time it hurt a lot. so you don't get up instead just turn around to eat.

He grabs your wrist before you can even touch the food. “I said we’re not done talking.” he almost yells. seeing you flinch he sighs deeply before he gets on his knees and rests his head on your lap. “we submit are phones after turning it off. that's why I didn't know— that you were coming early from work. we work in different departments so we have different rules too. you can ask around. they'll tell you.”

“why didn't you say that earlier? was the whole fight really necessary?” you said with utter frustration laced underneath your voice.

“shouldn’t i at least get the benefit of doubt?” he looks at you placing his chin on your thighs.

you stroke his hair and he closes his eyes. “yes but — umm— never mind.” you say running your thumb over his lips. he graces a glance at you before running his hands on your back tracing up to your shoulders, he is crouching now and then pull away your top. now you're naked and sitting on a chair as he is standing. he throws the top away and sits on his knees again. hooking his arms around your calf muscles he licks in between your legs. “this is payback.” he whispers. your panty is still on and all Narumi is doing is licking slowly over the cloth, sometimes barely touching but if this is the payback you don't mind it at all, unlike last time.

→ [ HOSHINA SOSHIRO ]

Hoshina is the one who gives you the silent treatment even if he is at fault. He doesn't want his anger to harm you in any way, be it due to you or due to himself. He is not much of an angry person to begin with but somehow he just loses it for you. Maybe that's his protective instinct for you or the fear of melting the cocoon he created for his own protection. Either way, it's frustrating. It's frustrating enough that he keeps telling you how you should not put yourself in danger to protect him in a field mission yet you keep disobeying him at every mission. Either you are mocking him or trying to take his position which by the way both are wrong given the fact that you are his subordinate. He sat on one of the benches in the training room. he is too frustrated to concentrate on training.

“you know, you can let your anger out right? on me?”

Hoshina looks at you, pupils ever so still like a moonlight pond on a windless night. That's exactly what he doesn't want. don't you get that? you're wearing your night dress not your suit, which means you were either waiting for him or going to bed.

“i'm not mad at you.” he sighs. “not even myself. just at the situation in general. i know it's your instinct to protect people but sometimes . . .” he trails off looking at his fisted hand. he unfists his hand again.

“i can take it all, you know?. be it your love or anger. . .” Hoshina looks at you keeping his bottle aside. he swallows before leaving his place and dragging you inside the training room, the door still not closed.

“are you sure about that my love?” he graces his hands in between your thighs while whispering. you give him a nod. “let's see how long you last.” as his hand rubs against your entrance his mouth starts to suckle over your nipples as his other hand pins both of your hands above your head. the night suddenly feels long and breezy.

[hannieween]

red lights | lights out series

The plan was fair and simple, but one that you could not take from zero to one hundred. Struggling with feelings of insecurity, hurt feelings and other concerns, you soon came to realize that it was not so simple. Nor fair.

✮pairings: joshua hong x female reader x yoon jeonghan ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut [18+] ✮ aus: rockstar joshua, theatre director jeonghan, boyfriend joshua, best friend jeonghan, polyamorous relationship ✮word count: 22.2k

› 🎧: nbd – i.m | whiskey – jay b | motorspeed 24 – bibi | the killa – tomorrow x together | xo – enhypen | honey! – tabber ft. dean | up late – gemini | put my hands on you – dean, anderson .paak

→ season one — season two — read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: smut with plot, polyamorous relationship, threesomes, joshua is into cucking, talks of bisexuality and consent, light homo-erotic themes ?, possessiveness, jealousy, dom and sub dynamics, (joshua, jeonghan and bunny are kinda switchy in this chapter) multiple unprotected sex scenes, anal and vaginal penetration, double penetration, fingering, pussy eating, nipple teasing. exhibitionsim kink: sex in public spaces, groping. brat taming: spanking, overstimming, edging. pet names: baby, beautiful, brat, bunny, filthy girl, good girl, princess (hers) handsome, babe, baby, baby boy, altar boy (joshua's) baby (jeonghan) ✮ author's note: heyooooo. this note is to explain that the instances where Bunny with capital letter is mentioned, it is a placeholder for "Y/N", oke oke, bye ( • ω • )🩵 ✮ additional note: this is not proofread, as always. so if you spot silly mistakes, no you didn't. bye 🤘🏻 ✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part iii

The light rain pattering against the windows had created a pleasant lullaby that accompanied you in your dreams, though made fragile by the constant noise, you welcomed it.

Your boyfriend's arms hugged you languidly but close to him, so close in fact that you were breathing on his skin, your face kept snuggled against his chest.

It was three nights before he was scheduled to go on tour. So, every single night and day, Joshua made sure he spent it like this: close to you, searching for you to kiss your face, to hold your hand, to hug you.

However, this night was different.

Joshua was an incredibly good sleeper. He fell asleep with such ease made you feel envious sometimes, he never budged, never woke up with any noise, unlike you.

So, when the sky rumbled, announcing a heavier rain for the following moments, you woke up. Shortly then, you knew that it would take a while for you to fall asleep again.

Defeated, you sighed softly against your boyfriend's skin, snuggling close so your face was almost pressed between the crook between his well-defined pecs.

Initially, his limbs seemed to twitch uncontrollably, making a something flash through your mind, thinking that he might have woken up too by the loud sounding of the sky.

But no, Joshua did it again in his sleep, his body tensing in a snap, his shoulders contracting and chest bumping against your face. The sound escaping from his lips was broken, and hollow—a groan that was cut short by him waking up abruptly.

“Joshua?” you called when he flinched violently and sat up in quick succession.

You felt a heavy hand palm the bedcovers, searching for something beside him frantically until he felt your knee, your calf and let out a sigh.

You saw his back rising and falling rapidly and quickly sat up beside him. “Babe?” you asked, voice full of worry. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” he gasped crestfallen, his back to you still, rising and falling erratically. His hand circled your ankle above the covers, almost as if he needed to anchor himself to any part of your body he could find.

“Joshua, look at me,” you insisted, unsure that he had woken up completely, feeling his body shake slightly on the bed.

Your heart crushed upon seeing his furrowed brow, his eyelashes clumped by the tears that were brimming in his eyes.

“I'm okay, baby, I'm fine,” he whispered shakily, sniffling with some shyness, and bringing up his other hand to wipe his own tears.

“No, you're not,” you breathed and cupped his cheek wet with tears, commanding him to look at you. “Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me, what happened?”

His mouth parted, your heart broke a bit more when his lip quivered, and he gave you an anguished look. “I don't know,” he whispered, as he drew in a breath, a ragged sound came out from him. “I don't know.”

But his next actions said otherwise, he took your hand from his cheek and threw your arm over his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, clumsily hugging you.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” he repeated, over and over, making you think that he was telling that to himself instead of you. “I'm sorry, Bunny. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's okay, don't apologize,” you muttered against his chest, gasping softly when Joshua brought your body back down on the bed. “I'm only worried about you.”

Joshua muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but you could not make out what he said exactly. His arms tightened around your body, and he sighed out with a hum. “Mn,” his chest deflated and soon, he fell asleep again.

Now you were unsure whether what had happened was in Joshua's complete clarity. But you waited, fully alarmed and awake, you did not dare to move a limb, even your breathing was cautious.

Joshua did not wake up again. In fact, you are not sure for how long you waited until you fell asleep as well, holding onto him just as he held onto you.

The following morning, his side of the bed was cold and empty when you came to your senses, stretching one arm beneath the covers and opened your eyes.

You slowly rose from the bed, adjusting the oversized t-shirt you wore to sleep and climbed off bed, deciding to head directly to the bathroom after hearing some noises coming from the kitchen.

After rinsing, and making yourself look a bit more presentable, you came out of the bathroom. The first thing that piqued your interest was the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, being so that Joshua was committed with taking you out for breakfast these days.

You stopped upon crossing the kitchen's door, feeling like being slapped with wild reality.

“Morning, princess.”

“Jeonghan,” you blurted and crossed your arms over your chest, meekly covering yourself over your boyfriend's t-shirt. “G-good morning.”

Jeonghan was busy with whisking a heavy bowl of eggs, so he just followed you with his sweet brown eyes when you approached him shyly.

His movements slowed down when you stood beside him, standing on your tiptoes to give him a small peck on his cheek. Jeonghan blinked and sent you a look that you were not able to read, but then he smiled at you just as sheepish.

“Did you sleep alright, baby?” he muttered, his eyes reading yours, then looking at your lips.

Something fluttered deep inside you, and you could see that your reaction was involuntarily made visible on the features of your face because his lips curved slightly.

You had not seen Jeonghan since the day after you agreed to Joshua's proposition, which allowed you to be with Jeonghan freely—not as friends, but as lovers. But being alone with him like this, without your boyfriend around somehow felt off to you.

“Uh, yeah, um,” you blinked and looked around aimlessly. “Where is Joshua?”

Jeonghan resumed whisking the big bowl of eggs. “Your boyfriend is in a meeting with his band and the tour manager,” he nodded to his phone left unlocked on the countertop. “He's supposed to be coming back any time now.”

“He didn't tell me about this,” you mumbled glumly and stopped yourself. It felt odd to talk about your relationship now that Jeonghan was technically your partner too.

But he seemed impassive to it, he just nodded and sucked in a breath slowly, thinking of what to say. “Yeah, it appears to be a thing that came out of nowhere. I ran into him on the elevator,” he pressed his palms on the edge of the countertop.

“So... did he tell you to come here?” you asked and looked at the bowl of eggs. “To make breakfast?”

“No,” he frowned and turned to the stove setting up the frying pan and turned the fire to a medium. “I came here to see you, but you were still asleep. I grew bored. And hungry.”

“Oh,” you huffed a smile. “And here I thought you were making me breakfast.”

Jeonghan looked over to show you a sly smile. “Don't think too highly of yourself, princess.”

“Why not, since you call me princess all the time, I should be treated as such,” you replied in a matter-of-factly way.

Jeonghan stood frozen for a second. “Tsk,” he snorted. “Brat.”

At some point, you had referred to Yoon Jeonghan as your best friend. From the moment you met him, he quickly became someone you trusted, someone you searched for company. It was only until you realized that you had grown feelings for him that everything changed.

It did not seem odd to you that he would still try to tease you in some way, in fact, you welcomed it. It gave you a sense of familiarity with him, that your relationship had not changed in its entirety.

But still, something felt a bit nerve wracking.

You grabbed two cups to pour some coffee in. “Just milk, right?”

“Just milk,” he nodded, focused on cooking the scrambled eggs without browning them. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” you whispered. “D'you want toast, too?”

“I bought croissants,” he nudged you with his elbow, pointing with his beautiful nose to the paper bag sitting on the countertop.

“Oh, nice,” you smiled stiffly, opening the bag to get the fresh smell of butter and bread. The bag had three pieces. “Thank you, Jeongjeong.”

“Don't mention it,” he replied in kind, but he looked you up and down for a second before he busied himself with serving three plates of scrambled eggs with bacon.

“What?” you asked after a long minute of silence, watching Jeonghan methodically finish cooking breakfast.

He set the frying pan aside and turned the stove off. “Nothing,” he hummed, shaking his black-haired head twice. He turned to you, in the enclosed space between the kitchen counters and you took a step back as he tried to approach you.

“What's up with you, princess?” he asked softly, taking another step, you took one back, then another until you bumped with the fridge.

“You make me nervous,” you confessed with a shaky tone, looking straight to his eyes as he read you in his expert way. You tried to suppress a smile, but when you saw his lips curve in a side smirk, you failed. “Joshua isn't here.”

“So?” he arched one eyebrow, then he blinked, seemingly finding out what you meant. “Do you think this is wrong?”

You eased into your stance a little by loosening the tension in your shoulders. “No. I just don't—this is just so new to me still,” you pointed to your body and his with one finger swiftly.

“Oh,” he paused and then: “I get it,” Jeonghan shrugged, and turned to grab two plates setting them on the table and returned to get the other one.

Completely bewildered, you watched him come and go. You wondered, why now as he turned his back to you that you wanted to grab him and regain his attention. But there you were, back still pressed against the fridge, the thing snapping you to full clarity was the noise coming from the front door.

“Ah, you're back,” you heard Jeonghan say in his own content manner. “Made a plate for you too.”

“Hey, man. Thanks,” your boyfriend sighed, there was some ruffling of fabric, and you assumed it was him removing his denim jacket, proving yourself right when you came out of the kitchen. “Where—oh, there you are.”

You smiled meekly at him, his eyes scanning your frame, noticing that you were still in your sleepwear, which was his oversized t-shirt. Joshua extended an arm as he approached you, a hand sliding on your waist. “Hi, beautiful,” he muttered after pressing a tender kiss on your lips.

“Hi, handsome,” you replied quietly, giving him a shy smile when you saw his eyes. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” he said flatly, and you could tell that it was a subject that he would prefer to not talk about just yet.

“Are you okay?” you whispered softly, reading his eyes to catch every single reaction written on his face.

“Yeah,” he nodded dismissively and then: “Did you just wake up?” Joshua realized, backing away slightly, but keeping a hand on your waist as he read the features of your face.

“Yeah,” you giggled when he shot you a mildly shocked look. “I didn't get much sleep last night,” you explained, occupying a seat on the round table next to Jeonghan, who huffed loudly.

“Ah, Joshuji, you need to let princess sleep sometimes,” he teased with a cheeky smile.

A hot wave of embarrassment washed over your face. But Joshua giggled joyfully, throwing his head back slightly. “Well, I'm not the culprit this time.”

You cocked your head to one side, making both men pause. Jeonghan darted a look at your boyfriend and suppressed a smile. “Josh, you don't remember last night?” you asked with some caution.

Joshua slowed down on his movements, leaving his fork hanging between his fingers as he chewed almost mechanically. “What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Tsk,” Jeonghan seemed to be preparing to shoot a joke, but upon reading your face, he stopped.

“Wait, are you serious?” you asked him, stretching a hand on the table to grab his. “You don't remember anything?”

Joshua lowered his fork completely, his gaze falling out of focus as if he were conjuring the memory of what you meant. He shook his head slightly. “Baby, I don't think I know what you mean,” he looked beside him at his best friend and smiled awkwardly. “Did I do something?”

“You were dreaming,” you explained carefully. “And then you woke up crying.”

Joshua blinked, giving you a bewildered expression. “I don't remember anything,” his frown deepened, then he squeezed your hand. “I'm sorry that I kept you up, baby.”

“No, don't be,” you muttered, retreating your hand from his to grab your fork and started eating from your plate, though the food had already gone cold.  

Jeonghan sat down on the couch, releasing a heavy sigh. His bright eyes found you as you sat next to him. Joshua had taken the task to do the dishes after convincing you by saying that I was only fair since Jeonghan cooked breakfast.

“What's up, princess,” Jeonghan mumbled, making you set your phone aside when he slid one hand on your thigh.

The motion of his hand inching up your thigh send a chill through your body. You tried to brush it off. “I'm just worried,” you replied with a hushed tone.

His eyes darted to the kitchen, buzzing with the sounds of dishes clanking together, water running and Joshua's voice, singing one of his songs.

“Why?” Jeonghan knew right away what you meant without needing to explain more. “We just have to trust him. If he says he's okay, then let him show you that he is.”

“But last night...” you whispered, then choked up upon remembering and shook your head in resignation.

“Baby, he has been making an effort to keep his promise,” Jeonghan muttered, darting another look, and shifting on his seat, thighs wide apart. “He has been communicating, he's present, and we're here.”

You nodded. Ever since Joshua confessed that he wanted you to work things out with Jeonghan too, he has been lively, much as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. Now, as he figured things out and sorted his opinions on the matter, he would voice them out with you and Jeonghan.

“That's another thing that worries me,” you whispered nervously, feeling like the opportunity to speak about this with Jeonghan would run up soon. “I don't know how an open relationship works; I don't know what to expect.”

Jeonghan moved his head on the headrest, a question written in his beautiful eyes. “What do you mean, princess?” he asked, reading your features.

“Yeah, I don't know how I'll feel when he starts dating someone new,” you blurted out hurriedly, whispering to the point that you need to take a big gulp of air afterwards.

Jeonghan smiled with a slow realization and blinked for a long second. “Baby, this is not an open relationship,” he said. “Did you really think that this arrangement allowed for him to date other people?”

You nodded meekly.

“What's going on?” your boyfriend asked, his gentle tone coming so abruptly made you nearly jump off the couch. Seeing your reaction, he paused: “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” you gulped and looked at your lover sitting beside you. “We-we were just talking about a book that–,”

“Princess thought that we're in an open relationship,” Jeonghan stated flatly.

Your heartbeat faltered. “Jeonghan,” you reproached with a sunken tone.

“You need to lie better,” Jeonghan retorted.

“There was no way I would've believed that,” Joshua concurred in a nonchalant way. But then, he moved on quickly with a, “What made you think that bunny?”

“I–I don't know, I was just saying that I d-don't really know what to expect when you go away and,” you inhaled deeply, and exhaled: “We haven't talked about what happens when you go away, not extensively.”

Joshua smiled; it was not a condescending smile but one of relief as he understood where the root of your insecurities was.

“Because this isn't an open relationship,” Joshua explained gently and sat down on the empty space beside you. “That would mean that all three of us can see other people, right?”

You nodded.

Joshua continued. “But this isn't that, it's just between us three,” he gestured with a hand to Jeonghan, then you and him. “An open relationship would mean that you can have sex with multiple people but staying with me in a committed way.”

“This is a poly. I won't see or date other people, neither will Joshua,” Jeonghan explained too after you looked at him and he saw your confused face. “And well, do you want to see more people, baby?” he smirked.

Joshua smiled too when you made a scandalized expression with your face. “No!” you shook your head.

“I'm okay with you and Jeonghan dating, he is okay with us being together,” he finished explaining with a satisfied expression on his face. “Questions?”

“So, you won't see other people, not even when you go away,” it was not a question, it was more like you were reaffirming it and thus putting your concerns at rest.

“No, bunny, not even when I go away,” he smiled gently at you, probably finding your worry endearing.

“Is it not a bit unfair that you can't see other people?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat over the heaviness of the question.

“But I don't want that,” he frowned slightly. “I just want you.”

Jeonghan leaned his head against his fist, propping his elbow on the armrest. He smiled softly when you sent him a look and nodded, agreeing with your boyfriend.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “And following your logic, you two could be with each other, yes?” you cocked your head to the side.

Joshua tilted his head back, letting out a sweet giggle, making your stomach flutter.

“Yes, princess, in theory,” Jeonghan answered and squeezed your bare thigh with his hand, making your tummy flutter erratically.

“Okay,” you sighed contently with the new information, paused, and thought for a long second. “I think I'd be okay with that.”

With a sigh, you simply lied down on the couch you were sitting with the two men, leaning your head down on Jeonghan's lap and outstretching your legs to Joshua.

You realized upon looking up at Jeonghan's face that you did not give both men the opportunity to reply to your admittance, the obfuscated look flashing on his eyes told you that much.

“Mn,” you hummed happily, stretching your limbs, and exhaled looking up at your lover, who was expertly shaking off the bewilderment.

“You have a long day ahead, right Joshuji?” he asked, placing a hand on your tummy, and you noticed the pause he took before doing so, much as if he were not sure where to place his hand, but deciding that was where it belonged.

Joshua took one look at the hand placed flatly over his t-shirt that you wore. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I should probably be getting ready. Got a press thing in some hours,” he announced.

“I'm taking princess to help me shop for something to wear for tonight,” Jeonghan mentioned offhandedly, you drew in a breath, and he felt it, making his eyes search your face.

“So, see you there, then?” Joshua asked, gently adjusting your feet back so he could rise from the couch. Then, his large hands grabbed his black wife-beater by the hem, stripping it off his torso.

“We'll be there,” you whispered, trapping your lower lip behind your teeth.

Joshua noticed your eyes on him, his naked torso and smiled. “You can join me if you want,” he muttered, turning away and as you saw the well-defined muscle in his back, something sparked in your mind.

Jeonghan had his eyes set on your boyfriend too, his facial expression hard to read. You heard the bathroom door close, and his eyes dropped to your face. “What?”

“Did I overstep with my questions?” you asked shyly.

“You did no such thing,” he muttered softly, removing his hand from your tummy to pinch your chin. “He knows.”

“About you being bi?” you incited.

“Of course,” he shrugged slightly. “You know I don't have secrets.”

“Do you think I made him uncomfortable?” you asked although you already suspected the answer.

“Probably not, or at least I don't think so,” he chuckled lightly. “Relax, you did nothing wrong, baby. Your questions are valid.”

“Did you tell him?” you asked with genuine curiosity. “I'm sorry but I'm kind of curious as to how you guys met.”

“He still hasn't told you that story?” he huffed, his hand returned to your tummy, where he patted gently. “Yeah, I told him. Just like I told you. But with Joshua it was different, since we've had threesomes before, we discussed what we're comfortable with, so.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense,” you frowned.

He smiled cutely at you. “Are you more at ease now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you muttered. “I'm just curious.”

“I'm an open book, princess,” he giggled softly. “Go ahead.”

Your eyelids fluttered briefly when his hand traveled down to your lower tummy, then back up, as if caressing you over your sleepwear. “When did it started?”

“The threesomes?” he pushed his eyebrows up, then raised his head, brow furrowed now as he tried to remember. “Huh. Maybe some four... five months after I met him.”

“Really?” your voice shot up.

“You've never asked him stuff like this?” he asked in an unpatronizing way, it was genuine curiosity.

“Well, yeah but I've never asked him for details about his past experiences with you,” you tilted your head to one side. “Or at least, he's never mentioned it.”

“It's just what it was, fun consensual sex,” he rolled his eyes, slightly unpleased with his own answer. “We've only done it a few times, at least some four times before you.”

“So, six now,” you added dumbly.

He nodded. “Any more questions, beautiful?”

“Mmn, no, I don't think so,” you smiled softly at him. “I'm just curious, since most of my... more daring sexual experiences have been with him, and you. I wanted to know a bit further from the experiences that involved me.”

“That's fair,” he conceded. “But it's a good idea that you ask him too, right?”

“Right,” you aloofly.

“Now that I think about it,” Jeonghan drew in a breath through his teeth, his frown deepening softly.

“What?” you egged him on.

“Was Joshua your first sexual partner?” he asked cautiously, aware of the heaviness of the topic of conversation. But he understood that you were open to talk about it, since your questions were revolving around sex.

“No,” you replied flatly. “But he has been the first in many things,” you giggled shamefully when you realized how it sounded. “I was mostly inexperienced in many things when we met.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that now,” he pointed, referring to your very chaotic deal with Joshua to be your sexual partner so you could write sexually explicit scenes for your book.

“Yeah,” you nodded, lost in the distant memory. “I've explored many things with him. And now with you too.”

Jeonghan smiled at you, it was the kind of smile he did when he pressed his lips together in a flat line, making tiny dimples appear on his chin.

“Do you want to go get ready, baby?” Jeonghan patted your tummy, noticing your distant eyes. “Go.”

You sat up but sat on your knees next to him to bring a hand to the crook of his beautiful neck, making his eyes snap open in surprise, which was quickly replaced by something else.

You landed a small peck on his lips. “Wanna come with me?” you mumbled shakily, batting your eyelashes at him awkwardly.

“So, you're not worried about this anymore?” he asked with some gruffness in his tone, a hand encircling your wrist, and the other cupping your nape to kiss you again.

“A little bit, but,” you drew in a breath, and he took the opportunity to press his lips against yours with a soft smacking sound. “You need a shower. You're stinky.”

“No, I'm not,” he giggled, but caught your misdirect with a nod of his head. “Let's go.”

You stood up from the couch, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him towards the bathroom. You heard him release a short grunt when you pulled him from the couch and fell into step with you.

The bathroom door was left parted and inviting you in, you delivered a soft knock before pushing it open and sneaked a look inside.

“Hi there,” he smiled softly, he had discarded his dark grey jeans, and stood before the shower wearing only his boxers. “Are you joining me?”

“Yup,” you sighed, turning to Jeonghan standing behind you as your boyfriend approached. “Come here,” you grabbed the black-haired man by his clothes, dragging him to you and immediately took his t-shirt off, then the beanie on his head and dropped them on the floor.

“Slow down, princess,” he giggled sweetly, but letting you rid him of his clothes since he was the one wearing most.

“Let her have fun,” your boyfriend said behind you, his large hands slipping beneath the large t-shirt you wore, finding your waist as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“What do you want, baby?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you with avid eyes as your boyfriend's hands slid upwards, hiking the t-shirt up and uncovering your thighs.

“I want both of you,” you replied, though your voice sounded breathless, laughing shakenly as your boyfriend caressed the sides of your breasts with his fingers. He finished removing the t-shirt off, now moving his face to press his lips on your naked shoulder.

“We're going to make Joshuji late,” he smirked when your eyelids fluttered wildly when you felt a wet kiss on your shoulder blade.

“I can be late,” he muttered at once, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. His large hands moving back to your waist, then down to find the band of your boy-short panties, pushing them down your legs.

You busied yourself with the casing of his sweatpants, undoing it with a jab. “Do you want to do this, Hannie?” you coaxed at him, stripping him off his sweats and boxers in one go.

“Course I do,” he whispered, closing the space between your lips and his own with a featherlight kiss. “I always want you.”

“Mmn,” Joshua hummed, using his hands on you to flip you around with no effort, so now you stood face to face with him.

“Be nice,” you smirked, noticing his darkened gaze on the features of your face. Your hands traveled down, from his chest to the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly, his hard cock springing out, making your mouth water upon feeling him with your hand.

Joshua clicked his tongue, but then ended up smiling guiltily at you. “Fine. I'll be nice,” he whispered reluctantly, and then pulled the shower tap on, testing the water briefly before taking your hand and bringing you under the shower stream.

What happened next was something that only happened in your craziest, wildest fantasies. Both men had switched to the same mindset already, taking turns with teasing you with kisses, touching you, determined to make you feel good.

The shower head was directly above you, getting your hair and skin soaked within seconds, but the warmth in your skin was not only due to the water washing over you.

Both men had you pressed against their bodies, one look at Joshua's face told you just how eager he was already. The spark in his eyes, biting his lower lip before he leaned his head to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

Jeonghan slid his hands to grab you by the waist, pressing tender kisses on your shoulder, making a trail to the crook of your neck. You tilted your head for him, allowing his kisses to reach spots that had your breath hitching, moaning softly.

Your hands held onto your boyfriend's strong shoulders, fingers digging into his muscle when you felt Jeonghan's delicate hands travel from your waist up.

“Hannie,” you mewled out when his hands cupped your breasts. Realizing that he had never touched you this way before, you opened your eyes to see him run the pads of his pointer fingers around your areola, exploring your body.

Joshua leaned his head forward once again, trapping your lips between his with a raspy moan from his part, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, wrapping perfectly on yours.

Then a large hand parked on your tummy, sliding slowly down to your lower tummy, a finger finding the mount between your thighs. You let out a needy moan, parting your legs and pushing your hips forward.

But your knees buckled, making you push a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before his finger dipped between your pussy lips. “Joshua,” you breathed nervously.

“Mn?” he responded, pressing small kisses on the corner of your lips, a fingertip sliding between your pussy lips, finding your sopping core with a satisfied sigh.

“Please,” you mewled out, pulling your head back and rested it on Jeonghan's shoulder.

“Please, what?” he whispered, planting a kiss on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine, making you arch your back.

Your mouth hanged open when Joshua dipped a finger inside your pussy, his doe eyes zeroed on your face riddled by the pleasure of feeling his finger massaging your walls, another finger joining after a couple of thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you sighed and closed your eyes, letting yourself be engrossed by the blissful pleasure coursing through you. Both Joshua and Jeonghan were pleasuring you, touching your bare skin freely, kissing you, responding to the sounds you made with their own.

You would soon be covered in soapy bubbles, dripping from head to toe but you could not care about that, or about how you were the only one being showered by the warm stream of water. Joshua’s hands were pleasuring you, his lips kissing you. A large hand searched for your hip, grabbing your thigh, and hoisting it up his waist, holding you steady.

Your arms circled his neck, squealing in his mouth when you nearly lose your balance, but he kept you firmly wrapped around his body. His fingers curled inside you, teasing a glorious spot in your walls, making you muffle a high-pitch moan in his mouth.

“Stop, stop,” you choked out.

Both men paused at the same time, one man lifting his head from your shoulder, the other pulling back from your lips, hand leaving the needy mount between your thighs.

“Yes, baby?” Joshua asked, reading your face.

“C-can we continue this on the bed?” you stammered slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled at you.

“Come on, princess,” Jeonghan took the lead right away, being so that he was not as soaked as your boyfriend was and pulled you out of the shower.

You giggled nervously when your back hit the mattress, Jeonghan crawled on top of you, pressing a kiss in your lips before diving in for a deeper kiss, his tongue swiping a line on your lower lip.

“We're soaking the covers,” you hummed in between rushed kisses.

Jeonghan let out a chuckle into your mouth, probably thinking some perverse retort. His nose wrinkled slightly but he just shook his head, drops of water joining the ones on your chest when he leaned down.

You arched your back slightly when his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, you felt the underside of his tongue teasing your nipple, getting it hard. A hand snapped to find his black hair to tangle your fingers in.

“God, Hannie,” you gasped, but were swiftly distracted by Joshua pressing a knee on the edge of the bed, his hand tossing a bottle of lube and a condom on the empty space beside you.

You frowned and looked up at him, formulating a question silently with your mouth agape.

“It's for me,” he explained, noticing your face. He crawled to lie beside you. “We're gonna have to do this quick,” he reiterated with a more commanding tone, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning his face to meet your lips.

You tried to nod your head yes, but his hand slid on the back, his fingers sinking in your wet hair as he kissed you deeper, his wet tongue swiftly meeting yours.

Then you understood Joshua did not say that to you precisely. Jeonghan lowered his body on you, leaving a wet kiss next to your belly button, making you squirm slightly.

Suddenly you felt your hand being removed from the long and wet black hair of your lover. His lithe fingers came between yours and placed your locked hands on the covers, beside your hip.

You knew it was coming before you could have a chance to see it. Your body tensed up too, bracing yourself for the first contact of Jeonghan's mouth on your mound, kissing you openly.

Joshua stopped kissing you, moving his hand from your nape to your chin to hold your gaze. “Look at me,” he whispered, just as Jeonghan's tongue gave a broad stroke to your pussy lips.

You flinched, making your breath hitch embarrassingly. “Hannie,” you squeezed his hand, and he responded with a groan, his tongue dipping between your folds.

Joshua held your gaze intently, his dark eyes outlining each of your features. “Don't look at him,” he muttered with a low, raspy tone.

You tried to suppress a moan, eyebrows knitting by reflex when Jeonghan started making out with your pussy, his mouth pressed tightly on your folds, licking, and tasting you fully.

But it was your boyfriend that held your gaze, his fingers threading your hair lovingly, caressing your cheek as you moaned and squirmed on the bed. “Joshua,” you moaned, calling out his name purely by instinct.

A dark smile appeared on his face. “Yes, baby?” he whispered. He leaned his head ever so slightly to one side. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” you breathed, closing your eyes briefly to focus on your lover pleasuring you, on his tongue pressed on your clit, swirling it around. “God,” you swallowed hard, trying to hold to the pleasure sizzling on your skin. “Just like that, Hannie.”

“Mn,” your boyfriend's lips pressed on yours once. “Eyes on me, bunny,” he commanded.

When you did, you tried to get a look at the man between your legs, but Joshua's large hand came to cup your chin, making you look at him.

“Make her come,” he muttered looking straight into your eyes. It was a challenge, you saw it written in his dark eyes, in the smirk that curved his beautiful lips.

And it was a challenge that Jeonghan took at once, his hand gripping your thigh moved to your lower tummy, pressing down slightly right before diving in you with his mouth on your cunt.

“Fuck,” you squeezed your eyes shut.

You wondered when Jeonghan was going to give up—but probably the question lied in if he were giving up. His mouth was unrelenting on you, his tongue flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves in your cunt.

The sounds he made on you were of delight, basically telling you he loved being there, between your legs, eliciting raw moans from you with his tongue on your clit.

“P-please,” you sighed, finding your boyfriend's face with your free hand.

“Please, what?” he hummed. The mewl you let out as a response made him smile at you. “You're close, baby?”

You nodded; you were very close.

“Go ahead, baby,” Joshua purred as he trailed a line with the tip of his finger from the middle part of your collarbone, down your chest, to your sternum. “Come on his mouth.”

You hated that it was his voice, his command that almost tipped you over. But you resisted with everything in your will from it, pushing your hips towards Jeonghan's face slightly, making him groan in protest.

You found his nape with the hand that was not clasped in his, pushing your hips to his face once again. In a couple of thrusts, you were practically fucking his face, swaying your hips, sliding your pussy on his mouth.

With a strangled sigh, you closed your eyes, savoring your release as Jeonghan quickly understood what you were doing. And without skipping a second, he went along with it, relaxing his tongue onto your throbbing clit.

You held in a big gulp of air, squeezing your eyelids as you reached your second climax, whining and squeezing Jeonghan's fingers. He responded with a groan of his own, his hand pressing lower on your tummy, helping you through your high.

“Mn,” you heard your boyfriend sound unimpressed, but still leaned in to kiss your whiny moans, capturing your lips gently. “Filthy girl,” he hummed a smile on his face as he kept kissing you until you stopped thrashing and moaning.

Heaving, you released Jeonghan's hand and hair opening your eyes feeling nearly disoriented.

The first thing you saw was your boyfriend’s hands opening a condom. “Turn over, bunny,” Joshua patted your side lightly.

“No, not yet,” you protested rebelliously, just when Jeonghan rose from between your legs, crawling on top of your body, claiming your lips with a hot, passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself in his lips, feel your slick dripping down his lower lip as he hummed and kissed you fervently. Your hands found his shoulders and pushed, motioning him to lie back on the bed.

That he did, quite obediently. And as he laid his head on the pillows, his bright eyes found your face, very eagerly telling you without a word that he was enjoying you step on a slightly more commanding role.

You got to your knees, taking in the view of the two men you loved, lying naked on your bed. They were both damp on their skin, their hair. Rock hard for you. You leaned over, propping your body with one hand on the pillows to kiss Jeonghan on the lips, blindly running a hand down Joshua's abdomen.

You could feel his gaze on you as you rolled your tongue past Jeonghan's lips, making him moan into your mouth. The tips of your fingers felt your boyfriend's belly button, so you just inched to the side, grabbing his hard cock with one hand, pumping it languidly.

“Tsk,” you heard your boyfriend clicking his tongue. Then his large hands circled your waist, pulling you down forcefully, detaching you from your lover's lips.

A small yelp left your mouth, your body hitting the mattress. You sent him a look. “Joshua!” you protested.

But then he brought down his large hand on your ass, the slap resounding across the bedroom. “Brat.”

“Mnf,” you squeezed your eyelids at the hot pain searing on your skin. You heard someone sigh, making you open one eye to see Jeonghan smiling at you, as if he found you cute.

“Behave,” Joshua conditioned, caressing the sore area of your skin with care. “Or should I get the cuffs?”

“I can behave,” you muttered, meekly settling in between both men. “No cuffs.”

“Good,” he breathed, getting the condom out of the packet and rolled it down his cock to his hilt. “Lie sideways with your back to me.”

You knew what his plan was at once, and did what he told you, lying on your side with your back to him. And then you knew that both had communicated wordlessly once again. Jeonghan slid a hand on your hip, grabbing a handful of your glute to keep you spread to your boyfriend.

“Breathe in, baby,” Joshua whispered behind you, his fingers caressing your hole softly, sighing when he felt it clench instinctively, right before he started to push on your hole, smearing you with cold lube slowly.

Joshua’s hand slid between your thighs, lifting one up to spread your legs open. Then you felt Jeonghan’s hand on your mound, making you look at his fingers right before he started teasing your swollen clit again, the pads of his fingers mimicking the same movements he made with his tongue, softly teasing your clit, moving his fingers side to side.

You moaned helplessly against him, receiving one consoling kiss as Joshua’s lubed fingers pushed inside you, slowly, pushing in and out slightly, testing you at first. “God,” you squirmed.

“Alright?” Joshua breathed behind you, and you turned to look at him over your shoulder nodding your head. “Can I give you more?”

“Yeah,” you gave him a reassuring nod.

“Okay,” he breathed, locking eyes with you as his fingers scissored inside you slightly, looking at your mouth as you let out another moan.

You turned your head again receiving another soft kiss on your shoulder blade. You heard him pump more lube onto his hands, and his fingers returned to spread you open.

He pushed another inch in, and you shivered uncontrollably, closing your eyes, and swallowing hard. “Josh,” you mewled. “Please, hurry.”

“Just a little more,” he mumbled and pressed a loving kiss on your shoulder blade. “Can you arch your back for me? There, baby, that's it.”

A hand crawled on Jeonghan's slender shoulder, finding the crook of his neck, and held on him for support as you practically thrashed on the bed, in between both Jeonghan and Joshua.  

“Please,” you begged, biting your lower lip to muffle a moan when his fingers spread inside you.

“Almost there,” he replied cautiously. “Breathe out.”

It was then that you finally felt the lubed tip of his cock push in your hole, tortuously slow.

“Oh god,” you squeezed your eyes shut, fingers curling on Jeonghan's wet dark hair.

“Fuck,” Joshua exhaled, leaning his forehead on your exposed nape. “Baby.”

“Please,” you whined, loving the feeling spreading on your limbs, tingling from under your skin. “More.”

Joshua grunted, complying without a word, pushing his cock inside you a bit further, but just about enough to make you cry out loudly, and so very lewdly.

“That's it, baby,” he muttered softly, planting another soothing kiss on your nape. “You're taking me so well.”

Then he released a puffy air on your nape that sent shivers down your spine. He retreated his hips, then pushed them to you, burying his cock further into you with a small groan.

“God,” he sighed, repeatedly with each shallow thrust.

“Joshua,” you cried, receiving small kisses on your shoulder blade.

You opened your eyes upon feeling Jeonghan's cold hand squeeze your skin gently, as if telling you wordlessly to look at him.

“Can you take me now, princess?” he asked, his eyes outlining the features of your face.

You nodded, gulping hard.

A large hand moved to your hip, brushing with Jeonghan's as they exchanged tasks, Joshua cupping your thigh and keeping your leg angled to both.

Jeonghan bit his lower lip as he adjusted his hips, aligning them with yours. He sent you a quick glance as his hand grabbed his pretty cock, guiding its leaking tip to your pussy. And with no pause, no teasing, he eased himself inside you slowly, cautiously.

A raw moan escaped your mouth as he pushed his cock inside your walls, the feeling so deliriously good you saw stars when you closed your teary eyes.

Joshua moaned too, probably savoring the feeling of your walls being stuffed full. “Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth, breathing hard on the curve of your neck.

You could not utter a single word. Everything had gone blank in a second. All you could focus on was the pleasure you got from the two men you loved inside you. All that occupied your brain was them, their skin plastered to yours, them moaning with you. One kissing your nape, your hair. The other kissing your face.

“Hannie... Hannie,” you breathed out in his mouth, and you could feel the effect your voice had in him, his hips buckled for a split second, eliciting a moan from you and from Joshua at the same time.

But both kept their seamless synchronicity, pushing in and out of you at the same time, their bodies pressed to yours, so warm, so full.

“I know, baby,” he responded with a low tone. “I feel it too,” he whispered, probably referring to the overwhelming pleasure you felt, the joy and love from being so close to both of your partners.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see the face of your boyfriend, whose lips stretched in a faint smile. “Do you like that?” he rasped, noticing the fucked out look in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, looking at his lips then back to his eyes.

His smile grew, knowingly leaning his face to yours to brush his lips with yours. “I know,” he whispered, his lips caressing yours. “You feel so good.”

You received a kiss on your neck, bringing out a moan that was muffled in Joshua's mouth as you leaned closer to kiss him deeply.

“So good,” Jeonghan sighed on your throat, his breath caressing your skin before he pressed more kisses.

You clumsily turned your head to kiss Jeonghan, he moved his face at the same time you did, finding your lips with a tender kiss, which you reciprocated with a whiny moan.

“Faster,” you muttered, sliding a hand on top of Jeonghan's, which was still parked on your hip. “Please, faster.”

Jeonghan nodded, complying at once. Joshua kissed your nape once more, also pushing inside you at a faster pace, falling in sync with Jeonghan in a second. Both started moaning more, their sweet and raw sounds flooding the room, pushing you closer and closer.

“Please,” you mewled heedlessly, losing yourself into a pool of pleasure, feeling so close to your sweet release. “Please, please, more.”

Joshua pressed his forehead to your exposed nape, muffling a raw moan against your skin, his lips giving you open kisses. His breathing had begun to catch, sounding shaky in your ear. “Baby,” he rasped, letting you know he was close too.

“You're close, baby?” Jeonghan muttered sweetly, learning to discern the sound of your voice when you were close to your orgasm, the faces you made.

You nodded your head in affirmation, unable to bring yourself to do more. Your body was firmly pressed to both, your clammy skin plastered together, you felt them breathe harder, heard them moan in near unison.

It drove you crazy. You loved it more and more: to be theirs, to feel them as close as humanly possible. They kept their thrusts fast and steady, always in sync, as if they shared one mind when they were with you.

Your hand circled Jeonghan's wrist, bracing yourself for the pleasure consuming you fast with a fiery wave, making you shut your eyes and cry out lewdly over and over. Both men responded with their own raw sounds, holding you tightly as they both succumbed with you helplessly.

“Fuck,” Joshua gritted, his face flush against in your hair, drowning raw moans. His fingers sunk in the plush of your thigh, gripping you tightly as he pushed his hips sloppily against your ass.

Jeonghan captured your lips in a hard kiss, his thrusts faltering too as he came, breathing and moaning faintly in your mouth, his hand squeezing you. “God, princess,” he groaned, keeping his mouth close to yours, nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

The thrusts stopped languidly. Joshua lowered your leg with great care, his large hand sliding to your waist, brushing with Jeonghan's. They both breathed hard, but kept their bodies pressed to yours.

“You're shaking,” Joshua giggled lazily. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked, moving his hand to pull your hair sticking to your cheek.

“Yeah,” you hummed, turning to see him. “Amazing.”

The smile he gave you made your heart twist. “You did so well,” his eyes read your face, his hand cupping your chin. “You're so perfect for us.”

The feeling fluttering from your tummy shocked you so hard you were unable to say a word. You smiled at him, the features of your face controlled by tiredness, he read it easily.

“Rest up, bunny,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips rising ever so slightly. “I'm going to clean up. I have to go to work.”

“Okay,” you breathed, giving him a reassuring look.

He nodded at you, okay, he mouthed. A large hand cupped your hip, holding you in place so he could pull out of you with a gentle motion, but it made you shiver, nonetheless.

You watched him over your shoulder as he walked out of the bedroom and turned to Jeonghan. His eyes were following you, as it was part of his habit: to observe you.

“Are you okay?” you asked with caution.

“I'm fine, baby,” he pressed his lips in a tiny smile, his eyes turning to half moons. “I'm just looking at you.”

You fought not to smile in utter embarrassment. “What, why?” you blurted.

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “I think your beautiful,” he said, and his tone faded in nervousness.

“Hannie,” you brought a hand to his shoulder, pushing him slightly in a playful way.

“What, I mean it!” he laughed, sliding his arm between the crook of your neck and the pillow, hugging your head. “Shut up,” he mumbled when you laughed with him.

“Ah, Jeonghan!” you yelped in protest when he pressed hard, punishing kisses on the crown of your head, but you broke in laughter, pushing him off. “Stop it!”

“Come back here,” he rasped, motioning you to cuddle up to him, opening his arms to you.

Your heart twisted inside your chest. However, you crossed the short space between you, putting your head on his shoulder and throwing a leg over his as he wrapped you in his arms.

There have been very few times that you had this kind of intimacy with Jeonghan. Since you began the agreement of being with both men at the same time, you had not found the chance to be this close to Jeonghan.

You welcomed it: his warmth, the smell on his skin, the little sounds he made. Some seconds passed, turning to minutes. He started to trace shapeless figures on your shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers.

“Are you falling asleep, princess?” he asked softly after a while.

“No,” you hummed, quite clearly telling a lie. The only sounds that filled your brain was Jeonghan's quiet breathing, and in the distance, the sounds Joshua would create as he got ready for work.

“Sleep, baby,” he suggested. “I can wake you up later.”

“I need to say goodbye to Josh,” you explained, your voice muffled by the crook of his neck, which you were nuzzling your face comfortably in.

“Okay,” he whispered, continuing to draw waves on your shoulder blade, making it harder for you to stay awake.

Some minutes later, you heard faint stirring noises around you, footsteps and someone say something. What woke you up was feeling the mattress dipping beside you.

“Bunny,” Joshua whispered. He was sitting on the bed beside you, a soft smile adorning his beautiful face. “I'll see you later, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you hummed, turning from Jeonghan's warm embrace to face Joshua.

Joshua leaned down, grabbing your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “Jeonghan's going to take care of you,” he muttered after pressing a loving kiss on your lips. “Be good, yeah?”

You loved whenever he talked sweetly at you, just like this. You nodded once again, showing him a waning smile. “Yeah,” you echoed, receiving another kiss. “Always.”

Joshua smirked ever so slightly. “I love you,” he said quietly, and part of you felt like he did not intend Jeonghan to be witness to the soft moment between you.

“I love you,” you replied just as meekly.

Joshua rose from the bed, turning to the door. “See you later, Jeonghannie,” he said, leaving the room.

“Later, Joshuji,” he replied, welcoming you back to his arms when you nuzzled him again.

And at that, you fell into a quick nap.

Then, you woke up before Jeonghan did you the favor of waking you up, you suspected at first but quickly found out that Jeonghan had fallen asleep with you. His soft snores, you realized, were the reason you were pulled out of your nap.

But despite that, you felt well rested. In the warmth of his arms, bundled up in the bedcovers, you could not find the purpose of getting out of bed.

However, you did not want to be late for the party. Knowingly, you lifted your head from Jeonghan's shoulder, snapping him awake easily.

“Morning,” you cooed with a smirk.

“Morning, baby,” he replied, bringing a hand to rub his eyes to then take a glance at his watch, he smiled. “We overslept.”

“You were supposed to wake me up,” you quipped.

“It's not my fault,” he giggled, cupping the back of your head with his hand to bring you back to his chest. “Your nap was highly contagious.”

“Oh, so it's my fault then.”

“Yes, everything is your fault,” he mumbled, his chest deflating beneath you.

“Don't fall asleep again,” you cautioned, but you could feel yourself slipping back into slumber.

“You first,” he replied, but then you felt him stifle a chuckle.

“Jeonghan,” you pressed.

“Give me a good reason.”

“We're going to be late for Joshua's party,” you replied with obviousness.

“We can be late for a couple of minutes,” he said, stirring on the bed sheets, pressing his arms around you, much as if he were getting ready for another long nap.

“Didn't you say you wanted to go to shop for something?”

“Mn yeah but I can wear somethin' else,” he muttered dismissively.

“Jeonghan,” you insisted. “Let's get dressed up.”

Jeonghan let out a giggle, the kind that would let you know whenever he was trying to tease you. “Alright, alright,” he clicked his tongue and sighed as he moved on the bed to get out of the bundles of covers.

You closed the car door with a small, laboured sigh.

“Mn, granny is tired already,” Jeonghan murmured with a low tone, his eyes set on the back-up camera of the car as he drove out of the parking spot with one hand.

“Shut up,” you bit back, enjoying the sound of his chuckle. “You’re older than me. And I am tired.”

 Jeonghan drew a breath through his teeth pensively. “I know baby, but the day is far from over,” he muttered in a serious tone now. A hand slid on your thigh, his fingers pressing softly over the fabric of your jeans. “Relax. Let me take care of you today, yeah?”

“Mn, yeah, I’m going to need lots of pampering from you,” you smiled at him, grabbing his hand from your thigh.

His eyes remained on the road ahead, but you felt his movements stilling slightly right before he laced his fingers with yours. “You got it, princess,” he smirked.

“I want milk tea,” you giggled. “And a Danish pastry. Or two,” you held your two fingers in front of you.

Jeonghan looked at you through the corner of his eye and coughed up a laugh. “You call that pampering?” he teased. “That is like a normal Friday for you.”

“Well yeah, it’s a treat for me,” you explained, shrugging slightly.

“Okay, yes, a treat, not pampering,” he emphasized, glancing at you repeatedly.

“I indulge in other things too,” you pouted cutely at him. “I like shopping for books every now and then, music…”

“I know that but,” he rolled his eyes, going straight to the point: “What do you like to do for yourself? Not to serve others, to serve only you.”

You arched an eyebrow, opening your mouth to speak.

“You can’t mention sex,” he said, realizing what you were about to say right away.

“Hey,” you frowned, and he laughed in victory. “I don’t know. Well… I find work therapeutic sometimes.”

“But that's what it is, work,” he muttered, the car came to a stop. He used this as an opportunity to bring your laced hands to nib at your knuckles with his lips. “Have you been taking breaks?”

Your heart warmed at the question.

Jeonghan and you had taken some distance after the first threesome happened. After you realized that you withheld feelings for him very deep in your heart, you could no longer continue with your friendship with him.

So, for nearly a month, you went low contact, holding out for him to look for you to talk again and to be friends again. Though it was futile, since you knew how he felt about you, and you could not ignore how you felt about him.

You missed him. And it had been so long since you spoke with him like this, it felt good.

“Umn,” you paused, pretending to gather your answer.

“So, no breaks,” he shook his head lightly.

“Listen, the deadline for the second book draft is closer and closer and I am nowhere near done like I was for the first,” you tried to make up an excuse. But an exasperated sigh won over you. “I just want to get it done as soon as possible, but lately no words come out.”

“All the more reason for you to take a break,” he said, his lips still close to the back of your hand.

“You know I only take breaks whenever I finish a draft,” you countered.

He rolled his eyes. “But that draft will never come to be if you keep overworking yourself,” he chastised, now completely serious.

“Alright, I’ll take a break, then,” you conceded, but it was obvious for the both of you that you were not being completely truthful. You nodded to the road ahead. “Green light. Drive, old man.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Say goodbye to your pampering,” he muttered in a low tone.

You smiled, pleased. “I will take a break, soon,” you promised, now taking your laced hands to place a small peck on the back of his.

That did the trick, his gaze instantly softened. “Good.”

He turned the car off, clicking his belt off just as you were undoing yours. When you came out of the car, he was already going around it to walk up to you, taking your hand when you thoughtlessly reached out to hold his and walk together towards the mall.

Jeonghan paused for the fraction of a second, looking at your linked hands without skipping a step. “Hmph.”

“What?” you inquired, but he just raised his gaze and fixed the beanie on his head with his free hand.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, turning his head to look in your eyes. “Help me choose a shirt?”

You nodded eagerly. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Just something that looks cool,” he shrugged.

“Oh, we can match outfits,” you suggested, looking at his sweet brown eyes. “Or at least match in color of outfits.”

The shadow of a smile appeared on his face, keeping his eyes on you as you walked together on the vast mall. “Whatever you want, baby, just say it,” he replied with a tone of endearment. 

“Nice,” you whispered, and he showed you a satisfied grin. “But first, you’re getting me that milk tea.”

His head tipped back, as a chuckle came out of his mouth. “Okay, princess. Let’s get you your tea.”

Jeonghan sighed impatiently, his eyes rolling back on his head. His hand, which was holding a hanger with a shirt changed sides, now showing you the other shirt, you selected.

“Mmn,” you hummed pensively, taking the straw into your mouth, sipping milk tea earnestly.

“They’re identical,” he whined, changing his hand once again.

“Trust me they’re not,” you retorted, pointing at the one on his right side. “This one is silky and shows your waist on the sides because it’s meshy,” you informed him, then switch to his left. “This one is denim and doesn’t accentuate your figure.”

“They’re both black,” he punctuated, sending you an annoyed look.

“That’s the only thing they have in common,” you countered, ignoring the cold look he was trying to give you. “Can you try them on?”

“Only if you come with me,” he muttered with a cheeky grin.

“Jeonghan, you know I can’t do that,” you said and as the words flew out of your mouth, you understood that he was not being completely serious.

“You could, but you don’t want to,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Try this one first,” you pointed to the silk shirt.

“Fine,” he muttered.

You waited outside of the changing room, sipping milk tea to completion until Jeonghan came out, his hair ruffled by the changing of clothes, a reason why he took his black beanie off. But he shyly lifted his arms, showing you the shirt on his body. You could get a glimpse of his skin on the sides of his torso through the mesh material.

“Get that one,” you said upon laying eyes on him.

“But you haven’t seen the other one,” he said, looking a little perplexed.

“I think this one is definitive,” you explained. “You never wear things like this. You’re always wearing baggy clothes lately. Not that I’m complaining, but this shirt is different. Looks good on you.”

Jeonghan pouted. “I like baggy clothes,” he mumbled. “They’re comfy.”

Your guts twisted with so much endearment that you were sure that it showed on your face. “I know, Jeongjeong,” you muttered, a cute giggle coming out of you.

Jeonghan looked down, pinching at the fabric on the neck of the shirt. “I like this one,” he said softly. “It’s shiny.”

“Mn, I don’t have anything to match it with,” you realized. “Maybe I could pick something too.”

“Please. I’d like to get out of here,” he sighed, unbuttoning the shirt with fast fingers. “And I much rather watch you try on things for me.”

Jeonghan stayed close to you as you browsed the long hallway of tall racks of clothes that displayed nice dresses, tops, and everything you would never wear on a regular basis. You had your fair share of party clothes. But what your fingers were sorting through would be a new look on you.

“I like that one,” he muttered, leaning his head to one side as you hovered a dress over your body, stretching the material over your frame to imagine what it would look like on you.

“I do too,” you hummed aloofly, looking at the tiny black silk dress. “Don’t you think it’s too showy?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he shrugged and sent you a dark look. “Or are you worried about what your boyfriend might think of it?”  

Your tummy fluttered at the way his voice sounded, it was dark and raspy. He stood over you, thankfully flanked by the racks of clothes so you were both out of sight. “Maybe,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected. “Though he won’t be paying much attention to me tonight. You know he doesn’t want the media to notice me as his girlfriend.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly in question. “Are you okay with that?” he asked, his head was still leaning over one side, his eyes reading your face expertly.

“I’m think I’m okay with keeping our relationship private,” you sighed, putting the pretty dress back on the rack. “I don’t want Josh to be even more stressed about the media’s snooping on his life.”

“Mmn,” he hummed, nodding his head once. He looked at the dress, hanging abandoned on the rack. “Try it on.”

“No,” you replied shortly, turning to continue strolling down the hall.

You heard an annoyed sigh coming from the man, so you turned to look at him, reaching for the dress to hand it to you.

“Try it on,” he repeated, but this time firmly.

You rolled your eyes with equal annoyance. “Jeonghan, the dress is pretty, but it’s too expensive,” you sighed.

“I want to see how it looks on you.”

You raised your eyes to his face, preparing a rebellious retort but were cut off abruptly by the lady tending the store: “Can I help you, miss?”

You tore your eyes from his and looked at the woman, who gave you a polite smile. “Yeah, I would like to try this on,” you replied, returning the polite smile. You turned to the rack next to you and grabbed two more dresses. “And these too.”

Jeonghan grinned but making sure that you were the only witness to his small victory.

You followed the retail lady to the changing room, feeling Jeonghan looming on your back, you could almost feel his eyes on your frame as you made it to the hall of changing rooms, separated by walls and doors.

“You can wait here, sir,” the lady informed Jeonghan.

He stopped, but you could see the cunning in his eyes clearly, though it was something you thought only you could notice, since the lady just resumed with her work.

As you took a step towards one door, you felt the man move behind you. “Jeonghan,” you started.

“Fine,” he huffed, and leaned back against the wall of the hall, deciding to wait outside the door of the changing room you slipped in.

You giggled at his face when you closed the door. “You’re such a baby,” you said, taking the advantage that he could not take any retaliation at your teasing.

He did not respond verbally, but you could listen to his tongue clicking.

You quickly changed into one dress, purposefully choosing a different one and not the dress he wanted to see you try on. You opened the door, enjoying the way his face lit up when he saw you in the skintight leather dress.

“D’you like it?” you sighed, trying to hide that changing clothes that quickly made you ran out of breath. You slid your hands over your tummy, smoothing the faux leather over your skin.

“No, I don’t,” he replied, quickly telling on your intentions. But his eyes could not lie to you: they were glued to your body, shaped by the pretty dress. It accentuated every curve, though it was hard to move in it.

“Mmn, that’s too bad,” you purred, turning so that he could look at your exposed back, and your ass. “I reeeeally like this one.”

“Tsk,” he closed his eyes slowly, letting his smile show. “Try on the other one, the one that you actually liked.”

You smiled but turned around, closing the door behind you, and stripped off the black dress. The bite of the chilly air made your nipples harden, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth and hurried to put the other dress on.

Jeonghan raised his gaze from the screen of his phone to see you, his facial features changing in a second. He pocketed his phone, now focusing on you fully.

You leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, enjoying his gaze on you. “What do you think?” you asked in a sugared tone. Looking down, you smoothed the silk on you, bringing the tips of your fingers to your chest. “I should probably get boob tape if I get this one.”

“Bo-boob tape?” he asked, raising his eyes to see your face.

“Yeah, to cover up,” you smiled cheekily, swirling the tips of your fingers around your pebbled nipples. “I don’t want to be flashing everyone on Josh’s party.”

You expected the man to laugh, or to smile. But no, his gaze remained trained on you, on your fingers tracing circles around your nipples. He gulped hard and cleared his throat.

“What, you don’t like it?” you asked innocently, twirling on your feet so he could see how the skirt of the dress sat on your ass.

Jeonghan had gone deadly silent, and you did not like that. It meant that his brain was occupied scheming a plan, you stopped showing him the dress, and saw that his gaze had darkened.

“Maybe I should just try the other one on,” you said, adding a gasp to appear resigned. “And if you don’t like it, then maybe I should just wear one of my old dresses,” you pouted, very evidently knowing that your attitude would press his buttons.

“Yeah, you do that,” he muttered, but he was not playing your game, no.

And that was worrying.

“Maybe you could come in, and watch me?” you muttered, knowing that he would be able to hear you despite the music playing on the speakers of the store.

Jeonghan shook his head no but sent his dark eyes to survey at the surroundings. “Get inside,” he nodded at you sharply.

You took it as, stop playing with me. So you just went back inside, with a rejected look on your face that he definitely got to see right before you closed the door and started removing the pretty dress off your body.

Suddenly, you heard a soft click and through the mirror, Jeonghan was entering the changing room, closing the door with one hand beside him.

“Jeong–,” you started, but he brought a finger to his lips, motioning you to be quiet.

You had instinctively brought the shirt closer to your chest, covering your naked breasts. Warmth crept onto your cheeks, realizing that he could see the back of your body through the reflection on the mirror.

“Be quiet,” he cautioned, grabbing the dress from your hands and tossed it on the stool. A hand came to cup your jaw, commanding your eyes to his. “You're going to do as I say.”

Your heart had started beating rapidly in your chest, you could feel your own pulse in your neck. But you nodded, intrigued as to how far he would go.

“I didn't think you'd come,” you breathed, taking a step back as he approached you, pinning you to the wall.

“That's because you're used to your boyfriend,” the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. “He's all bark, no bite.”

Your breath hitched, forcing yourself to close your mouth. Jeonghan enjoyed your reaction, that much you could see from the way his eyes, darkened by lust, outlined your face. He stopped cupping your jaw, his hand delicately traveling down, a finger tracing an invisible line on one of your breasts, finding your nipple to pinch it with his pointer finger and thumb.

You looked from his fingers teasing your nipple to his face. Jeonghan trapped his lower lip with his teeth, catching your gaze on him, the corners of his lips curved in a smile.

“You like teasing me,” he whispered, his hand continued traveling down, tracing a line on the center of your tummy. “I guess I should return the gesture.”

“Hannie,” you squirmed when his fingertip stopped at the band of your panties, you pressed your back against the wall.

“What?” he muttered, his voice raising to a lower one.

You sent him an alarmed look, but his face remained impassive, his dark eyes on you.

“Shh,” he pressed his body against yours, effectively pinning you tightly against the wall. He leaned his forehead against yours, nose nudging against yours, wordlessly telling you to raise your head for him to find your lips.

His lips grazed yours, inviting at first, but pulling back when you tried to inch closer to his mouth. He showed you a grin, and you could almost hear him say, “Eager, are we?”

His finger slipped beneath the band of your panties, his eyes widening with awe when he found out how wet you got just by teasing him. His lips pressed a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth when you squirmed against him, trying to get his fingers on you to satisfy the need you felt for him.

“Please,” you hissed.

“There are your manners,” he whispered, you felt him smiling in your mouth, his finger dipped inside your core, pumping in and out slowly.

But the feeling of being exposed, hearing the movement and commotion outside the changing room made your body come alive with excitement and arousal.

You sent him a pleading look, breathing out a tiny moan when he introduced another finger inside you. Your hand snapped to palm the tent in his pants, trying to get his zipper down.

The following movements happened fast. He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbing your panties and pulling them aside. You instinctively pushed your hips forward to him, angling yourself as you pulled his hardened cock out of his pants.

You noticed his other hand fishing out something from his pocket, pulling out his phone, opening his camera and pressing the record button.

“Hold this,” he whispered, handing the phone to you. His hand grabbed your leg to wrap it around his hip, just as you guided his cock to your throbbing pussy, letting him sheathe himself in one go.

You let out an airy moan, Jeonghan's free hand clamping your mouth shut as he started thrusting tortuously slow, making you feel every inch of his pretty cock inside you, stuffing you full.

You saw yourself through the video feed of the phone, you were nearly naked, a fucked-out look in your eyes as Jeonghan dipped his head to kiss your neck. Your eyes widened as he started sucking a lovebite on the curve of your neck, making your skin tingle when he detached his lips, breathing on the marked area.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

The noises outside, though unrelenting, made your pulse quicken, anxious butterflies swarming inside your tummy. A world happening outside while you were in a changing room, being fucked against a wall by your lover.

You sent him a warning look, the squelching noises of your pussy becoming increasingly prominent.

“I know,” he nodded, smirking at you. “You're being so good, princess,” he breathed. “Such a good girl for me.”

His hand slid down from your mouth, but found the curve of your neck, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, letting the world be drowned out by the sweet sound of his breathing.

“Fuck princess,” he whispered on your mouth. “You drive me crazy,” he said, his thrusts becoming more demanding, pushing against you rapidly.

“Hannie,” you said, beginning to shake, but you kept the phone up, camera angled to your bodies. “Come inside me,” you whispered. “Please?”

“Not yet,” he whispered, a taunting smile playing on his lips. “You're gonna come first.”

“I can't,” you refused, shaking your head lightly.

Jeonghan locked eyes with you, before scanning your face, your blazing hot cheeks, your lips glossy with his spit. “Yes, you can,” he countered, spotting your lie effortlessly.

“I don't wanna get caught,” you said, but aimlessly, since the squelching noises resounding inside the small changing room became even more louder to your ears.

“Where's the fun in that,” he retorted, a smirk showing on his beautiful lips.

“Hannie,” you tried to chastise him.

“Princess,” his smile widened, shooting a wave of arousal through you. He fucks you with a smile on his face. You stifled a moan, but the throbbing in your walls was impossible to control.

His thrusts slowed down, you saw his Adam's apple bob and his eyelids fluttered close. You knew instantly, it was taking him everything in him to not give in to his full impulse to just fuck you to his heart's content.

You saw your retaliation.

Your hand stopped clutching at the shoulder of his jacket, sliding it down his abdomen, reaching the area where your bodies connected. His eyes shot open in realization when your fingers began toying with your clit.

“Baby,” he whispered, though his voice sounded shaky, making his warning wane.

Your mouth parted, letting out a silent gasp. You saw his eyes following the movements of your fingers briefly, the way you worked on yourself to get to your orgasm faster. He raised his head, getting a glimpse of your facial features going slack in sweet pleasure. Your eyebrows knitted, and his did too, mimicking you automatically.

His thrust changed speed, becoming more demanding as your walls clenched around him. “Fuck,” he gritted.

Laughter boomed around you from a group of girls chattering inside the store. Jeonghan's grip on your thigh tightened harshly. You saw fascination cross the features of his face, he clearly enjoyed this: being exposed, having you at his mercy in a public space.

And to be honest, you understood why.

It was exciting.

It was easy to let yourself be swept away by the pleasure overtaking the features of his face. That just made it easier to sink into the waves of pleasure coursing inside your body, making your pussy wet. The sounds it made every time Jeonghan pushed his pretty cock in and out of your throbbing walls.

The tension inside you snapped. You threw your head back, succumbing to the sweet pleasure rippling through you. You sunk your teeth on your lower lip, commanding yourself to keep the phone up. You angled the camera so that it clearly captured you and Jeonghan, the way he pushed your body against the wall with this thrusts.

He kept his eyes trained on you all the time, as if he did not want to lose a second of you coming silently, shaking between him and the wall he was fucking you into. But his eyes went lazy, his breath ragged, his body weakened against you and that is how you knew he was coming with you.

Shaking, he drowned his grunts by crushing his mouth on yours, pushing his hips against you sloppily, emptying himself inside your walls to the last drop.

You stopped recording, slipping his phone back inside the pocket of his black jacket.

He dropped his forehead against yours. “You play dirty,” he rasped, still breathing raggedly.

“You almost had me in the beginning,” you muttered with a cheeky smile.

“Fuck you,” he chuckled airily.

You chuckled too, a retort sitting on the tip of your tongue.

A loud and repeated knock came to the door, startling you and Jeonghan with a jolt from you both. “Is everything alright, do you need help, miss?” the voice from the lady came from the other side, sounding completely unbeknownst to the situation inside the changing room.

“Oh, shit, you scared me,” you replied, bringing your best acting voice you could muster, though the reality of the situation helped. “Maybe I'll try the dress in red too, please?”

Jeonghan smiled deviously, shaking his head ever so slightly but did not make a sound.

“Coming up,” the reply came, and you were so still that you heard her walk away.

“You, miss, are learning fast at coming up with lies,” Jeonghan observed, pulling away from you, though begrudgingly. He tucked himself swiftly, watching your fingers fix your panties back in place.

“I have the best instructor,” you quipped, showing him a grin through your tiredness.

A weird look shot across his face; his heavy-lidded eyes scanned you. “Mn,” he hummed briefly.

“Here it is, miss,” the lady handed the dress in red over the door.

“Thank you,” you said as Jeonghan grabbed the dress from the lady's hand and passed it to you.

“No problem!” she said, still ignorant to the man standing at the other side of the door.

Jeonghan saw his opportunity, creaking the door open. “Gotta run,” he muttered.

But he was surprised when you quickly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to your lips with a quick kiss. “I'll be there. Go,” you whispered.

He returned the feathery kiss, though in his eyes you saw something you could not quite place. “Hurry up,” he whispered. “I'll buy you anything you want, let's just get the fuck out of here.”

And with that, Jeonghan slipped out of the changing room, leaving you with a deep desire for something that sex would not satiate. But you still weren't sure exactly what that desire was. Or rather, how you wanted to satiate it.

“Well?”

His sweet brown eyes looked at your face. He nodded. “You look beautiful.”

You laughed. “The dress, Hannie. How does it look?”

You stood in the living room, a pair of high heels hanging on your fingers. Jeonghan effectively, bought everything that you so much showed an interest in at the stores you visited with him. So now you had a new pair of shoes, a new handbag, and a new dress.

“Spectacular,” he smiled softly, rising from the couch, and stood before you.

Jeonghan looked good in everything he wore. But he looked ridiculously good whenever he was dressed in all black. From head to toe, his boots, the tight denim jeans, the shirt you picked, and the jacket he wore were all black. And on top of that, he had lost the beanie, so his lush black hair was partly humid from the recent shower.

“You look good,” you said, finding yourself hoarse for some reason.

“You think so, princess?” he smirked softly, placing a finger beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb brushing your lower lip ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes when his lips pressed a kiss on your upper, to then capture the lower and kiss you deeply.

A hand slipped on your lower back, bringing you closer to his frame. You gasped in his mouth, and he responded with a groan when you pressed your chest to his.

“Let’s get out of here before I lose my fucking mind,” Jeonghan muttered, letting out an airy chuckle. “C’mon.”

You and Jeonghan arrived at a club, one that you had never been before, granted. But Jeonghan did, apparently, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours as he led you through a crowd of people, all the way to the front door, where he exchanged a couple of words with the bouncer, who let him and you in right after.

The club was what you had expected. Dark, hot, packed with people and loud. But instead of just going right in, Jeonghan kept walking, crossing the place and to a more secluded area. There, a pair of dark elevator doors stood, and he pushed the button with his lithe fingers.

He shot you a brief look, and you knew that there was something heavy in his mind. You nodded your chin at him, prompting him but he just shook his head no, pulling you to the elevator when the doors parted.

But he seemed to be getting ready for something, he sent his gaze to the ceiling, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Are you really sure you’re okay with Joshua keeping your relationship a secret?” he finally asked when you were both standing in front of the doors, the reflection showing him beside you.

He looked dark. And strangely alluring.

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning your head to look at him. You had gained some inches, thanks to your high heels.

But the man still towered over you. “Okay,” he whispered, content with the certainty he saw in you. “Though tonight, I don’t think we will be surrounded by a lot of press people. That was mostly in his conference from earlier.”

You paid attention to him. “Still, I don’t think I can… go to him as his girlfriend, you know?” you cocked your head to one side. “There will be a lot of people, from what I gather.”

Jeonghan shrugged lightly. “You could,” he countered with ease. “Once everyone is on alcohol and other substances, no one will care. And even if they noticed, they would most like take it as him kissing his best friend’s girl.”

You were not sure if you were completely okay with how he phrased it. And it was not his words that upset you entirely, it was also that he was playing a part in all of this.

“You don’t like this, do you?” you realized.

“I don’t like that he’s using me to keep you in the dark.”

Your instinct was to say no. Joshua would not do that to his best friend. But you bit your tongue, instantly deflated by the thought of Joshua agreeing to the polyamorous relationship to keep you happy. And a secret from the media and his fans.

“Well, then maybe we have to trust him, like you said,” you finalized.

Jeonghan stilled. “Yeah, you’re right,” he muttered.

“Let’s enjoy tonight?” you offered sweetly, turning so that you were facing him. “Let’s be there for Josh.”

His gaze softened, convinced by your request. “Okay,” he said, using the proximity between you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The doors of the elevator parted, loud, revealing a place just as packed, rock music poured into your ears. But evidently this part of the club was private. It even looked poshed, compared to the dark interior from before. This one was colorful, though lit in red neon lights on the walls, and blue beams shooting across the space.

Jeonghan tugged your hand, pulling you even closer to his body as you both entered the place, and dived into the crowd. You noticed that he had an intent of crossing through the small sea of people and knew where Joshua would be found.

The first thing you noticed about your boyfriend upon laying eyes on him was that he had changed his hair. It was still brown, but not the golden brown that shines almost to a blond tone when he stands under the sunlight. This was a chocolate brown, the shade so dark it could pass as black in the dark interior of the club.

Like Jeonghan, he was dressed in concert black. Black suit, black tie. The only things that were not as dark were the chains adorning the flaps of his jacket. You knew it was not his decision to wear this, nor the way his hair was styled so that there was a single strand of hair hanging on his forehead, the rest pushed back.

Another thing of note was the hazy look in his eyes.

He was drunk. Surrounded by people and by the looks of it, he was having enjoying himself. He was talking to some people, none of whom you recognized.

Your grip on Jeonghan’s hand tightened. This was the first time that you saw him at his job since his band’s skyrocketing towards nation-wide fame. From meeting him as the lead singer of a local band, to now being one of the most popular singers in the rock music scene.

And without question, Joshua fit into what a rockstar would look and act like.

You watched as he stood back, side hugging the person he was talking to and someone raised a camera and snapped a series of photographs, the bright flashes illuminating his gorgeous face. The way he posed, looking directly at the camera with a neutral expression on his face, only added to the dark mood with which he was holding himself.

But that was swiftly changed when his beautiful eyes fell on you. His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes changed from what neutrality he was commanding himself with, a glimmer appeared in them.

Jeonghan returned the tight squeeze in your hand, as if telling you to get ready.

You saw Joshua tearing his eyes from you to face his best friend, to whom he greeted with a warm hug, using it too as an opportunity to look over his shoulder to look at your face again.

Your mind reeled over and over again as to how you were going to play this. But you just pressed your lips together in a tight smile, waving at him eagerly with your free hand.

You saw it on his face that he was not content with your short and distant greeting, so he made a move towards you, but was quickly blocked by someone coming up to him to ask for a photograph. Joshua stopped abruptly, removing his eyes from you, and accepted to take the photo, though reluctantly.

“Do you want a drink?” Jeonghan asked, leaning towards you to speak in your ear.

You nodded, being pulled away from the crowd surrounding Midnight Haze. As you left to go to the bar with Jeonghan, you could feel your boyfriend’s eyes on the back of your head.

“Can’t get drunk tonight,” you said, or practically shouted over the loud music to Jeonghan.

“Live a little, princess,” Jeonghan shouted back, pointing at a bottle of tequila sitting at top of the shelves of expensive bottles and signaled a two towards the bartender. “Besides, I wouldn’t blame you if you get drunk, you need to let loose.”

You looked over your shoulder, effortlessly spotting your boyfriend in the middle of the crowd, still chatting up to the people who came to him asking for autographs and photos. He swiftly sent a glance over to the bar, as if he had felt your eyes on him too.

“Yeah, got a point,” you said to Jeonghan, turning over to him and raised your shot glass at the same time he did.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said, making you giggle.

“Oh no, that’s scary,” you recalled the drunken nights with Jeonghan, when he was still someone you considered just a friend.

“Ah, come on, trust me,” he clinked your glass with his own, motioning over to you to link arms with him, and you did, pouring the shot of tequila down your throat at the same time as him.

He made a ridiculous face, and you laughed at him harder. “Cute,” you pointed. “You can’t drink tequila, and it shows.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he arched one eyebrow, turning to the bartender and ordered two more shots.

“This is how you get wasted,” but you raised the shot glass at him anyway, linking arms again to drink with him.

“I know,” he chuckled, wiping a drop of tequila from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “But, since you’re the expert in tequila, I want to test you.”

“Shut up,” you said, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Jeonghan leaned over the counter, asking for something that you could not hear. He would soon get two slices of lime served in a nice ramekin. And two more shots.

“Wait,” you exclaimed, but he had a devious grin on his face.

“Nuh-uh, princess. Drink,” he challenged.

You rolled your eyes, but quickly took on his challenge. You did not wait for him this time, downing the shot of tequila straight away, setting the glass on the counter. “Your turn,” you said pointedly.

Jeonghan looked at you with a glint in his eye, a smile creeping on his face slowly when you placed the slice of lime between your teeth, waiting for him. He took the shot glass to his mouth, tipping his head back and you saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Setting the glass aside, he brought a hand to cup your cheek, leaning towards you to capture the slice of lime from your mouth.

His lips brushed yours, making your body come alight, he sucked on the lime once, discarding it to dive in for a kiss, and that he did slowly at first, delicately. You tasted the lime in his lips. You felt drunk already, but you knew that the intoxication was not from the alcohol alone.

You felt a new wave of arousal rushing inside your body, you held his face with your hands, letting him kiss you deeper, more demanding.

“Stop,” you brought a hand to his chest, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

He leaned his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he exhaled softly. “I got carried away.”

“Me too,” you confessed with a small giggle. “Let’s stop drinking before we get reckless.”

Jeonghan laughed at that, the sound sending a powerful shiver down your spine. “Oh, baby, I think it’s too late for that,” he said, a pleased look on his face. “Come on. This thing is starting soon.”

“Oh, what is?” you asked dumbly. Following him back to where you saw Joshua.

The music suddenly came to a stop, the sound of a microphone being plugged in boomed through the speakers. Making you look across the room to find Midnight Haze standing on a small stage, the microphone was passed to Jihoon, who looked at it for a second and passed it to Joshua.

Midnight Haze’s lead singer took the microphone and brought it to his face, camera flashes lit up his face, making him blink repeatedly. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, we’re Midnight Haze and we’re here to present our first studio album,” he explained expertly, a grin appearing on his face as he enunciated the following words: “And here to explain more about the album, we have Lee Jihoon, the drummer, producer, and leader of this band,” he returned the microphone to Jihoon, who smiled with a mixture of shyness and awkwardness.

Jihoon started to give out a speech that consisted of him just explaining where you could stream the album and when, followed by a short word of gratitude. When he finished, he passed the microphone back to Joshua, who just gave it up to Vernon.

Laughter resounded around the room from all the party attendants.

“Thank you for coming,” he said briefly and returned the microphone to Joshua.

“Thank you,” he concluded.

And Midnight Haze started sounding on the speakers. You recognized the song from the first second because of how often you heard Joshua rehearsing it on his guitar or singing it aloofly all over the apartment. The song was catchy, the guitar riff alluring, aptly named Euphoria, the lyrics were enticing, and about you.

You felt Jeonghan’s fingers slipping on your wrist before he laced his hand with yours, taking you with him through the sea of people. You felt eager to see Joshua again, to be able to have a moment with him.

But you knew that you would have to wait for some time before that happened. Joshua was still busy talking to fans, and friends, and all the people who would come up to him and strike small conversation. Some would ask for photographs, others for autographs, most people both.

It felt nice to see him accomplish one of his dreams, though you could not deny that it felt slightly heart crushing to be watching from the distance.

So, you had to look for an opportunity. You turned to Jeonghan. “Cover me?” you asked him. He frowned at first, but leaned over so you could explain further. “I want to talk with Josh.”

Jeonghan nodded, wasting no time he just grabbed your hand catching Joshua’s gaze as he pulled you away from the crowd, leading you down a corridor that ended in an emergency exit. That apparently did the trick, since Jeonghan and Joshua had somehow formed a wordless language between them.

Because your boyfriend had followed you. A minute after you had slipped down the lonely and dimly lit corridor, Joshua appeared, nodding at his best friend in something akin to gratitude.

“Be quick,” Jeonghan warned. “And don’t be sloppy,” he added, sending you a meaningful look before walking away.

But Joshua did not reply, instead, he was instantly wrapping you in a hug as though he had missed you. He lifted you from the floor in his strong arms for a second, returning you so that he could cup your face in his hands.

“You look beautiful,” was the first thing he said to you, right before capturing your lips in a hurried kiss. You tasted whisky in his mouth, when his tongue outlined your lower lip and touched yours.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied, sensing the alcohol start to numb your senses.

“Let me see you,” he requested, stepping back so that he could see the pretty dress Jeonghan bought for you. But his eyes swivelled back up to see your face, but inevitably spotting the red mark sitting on the crook of your neck.

Your stomach dropped, and you brought a hand to brush your hair, covering the spot that Jeonghan marked.

But your boyfriend was quicker, he sent a look at his sides and back before carrying out his plan.

He pushed your back against the wall, the shadow of a smile appearing on his face when a soft gasp left your mouth. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he muttered darkly in your ear, his voice sounded hoarse.

You pushed your body away from the cold wall, your front brushing with his. You were squirming, trying to get him to back away and let you calm your nerves.

But no, his eyes read the features of your face. “You like this,” he realized, the corners of his lips rising slightly. “Oh, you cruel thing. Do you like to get me jealous?”

You nodded with your head, smiling at him when you could not take the heaviness of his darkened gaze on you.

“Is it fun to kiss Hannie while knowing I’ll be watching, baby?” he purred, moving his mouth to press a soft kiss below your earlobe. “Do you like to know it turns me on?”

“Joshua,” you mewled out when his lips reached a particular sensitive spot on your neck, where Jeonghan had left a noticeably big hickey. Then it dawned on you.

“Answer me,” he muttered, his large hands gripping your waist tighter.

Granted, you did have a recollection of Joshua saying he liked seeing you with Jeonghan. You also remembered the times you saw him pleasure himself to the view of you being fucked by Jeonghan. But to hear him say it, flat out, made a hot wave of arousal course through you.

You nodded, closing your eyes, and letting out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth placed an open kiss on the sensitive spot, making you squirm a little more.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed. “You sound so sweet,” he mumbled languidly, and you could tell just from the sound of his voice, sweet and moany, he was aroused too.

“Joshua,” you called, and he moved his face to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your moans when he rolled his tongue inside your mouth. “We need to stop,” you said, pulling your head back.

“Right,” he frowned. “Shit, you’re right,” he realized, as if he had forgotten for a split second that you were not completely alone.

He peeled his body off yours, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair. That made him look to one side, his features hardening at once.

A tall man, of dark hair and similar attire to your boyfriend’s was walking from the fire exit to you and Joshua. He did not seem impressed with your very public display of affection since he very evidently did not know you.

“Hey man,” Joshua greeted amicably. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, though not as much as you,” he replied with a slurry tone, his lazy eyes swiftly looking at you and then back at your boyfriend. “The album is a hit, dude, a number one.”

Joshua smiled, letting his guard down for a second. “Thanks, Tae,” he said, nodding when the man patted his back, continuing to walk back to where the party was.

“We should get back,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he leaned over to get a swift, featherlight kiss from you. “I want to get out of here already.”

You giggled. “Just a couple of hours then we can leave,” you told him.

“One hour,” he said, glancing at his watch. “And we get out of here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied and begun heading back to Jeonghan, but not before Joshua slapped your ass.

You yelped, sending him a look. Joshua masked his grin by biting his lower lip but could not resist when you just rolled your eyes at him and smiled broader at you.

You quickly found Jeonghan, whose eyes quickly read your face, your entire demeanor and smiled.

“I suppose it went well?” he teased, leaning over to press a kiss on the side of your head as he slid a hand on the small of your back.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but he obviously did not hear you.

“Baby, I’d like you to meet, Taehyung,” he said, showing you to the person he was clearly having a conversation with moments before you arrived, though you were too distracted to notice.

Taehyung had a question written all over his face, but he still nodded at you. “Nice to meet you,” he smiled charmingly at you.

You sent Jeonghan a look before returning the polite nod. “Nice to meet you too,” you said.

The man cocked his head, the confusion in his face clearer now, the lines between his eyebrows showing when he frowned.

“Taehyung is the singer of Green Nocturne,” Jeonghan interjected, noting that the exchange between you and the man was growing more awkward by the second.

Whatever Jeonghan might have seen in your face, it told him everything he needed to know. So his distraction worked, your mouth fell open in both surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh, really?!” you squealed, blaming the alcohol for sounding so high-pitched. “Oh my god! This is so cool. Forgive me, but I am the biggest fan of your music,” you giggled uncontrollably.

Taehyung dropped the confusion from his face at once upon hearing your drunken giggles. “Thank you,” he replied, almost as shy as you were now.

“Let me tell you, I was one of the many people that never believed you were a one-man band,” you blurted, feeling hot on the cheeks, and forgetting the awkward exchange completely. “But I think that it’s so cool that you do nearly everything…”

You were swiftly submerged in conversation with Taehyung, who also seemed to be wrapped in your crazy stammering and excited descriptions of how much you loved his music. So you never realized when Jeonghan slipped from the conversation, and away from you and your new friend.

Jeonghan tried to turn the lighter on, spinning the wheel once, twice, until he got to the third and the flame came up. He brought it close to the end of the cigarette, hearing the paper burn, igniting the end with a long draw.

The cold air brushed his cheeks, cooling his lips as he exhaled the smoke, his eyes lost on the vast city below him. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the banister of the balcony, ignoring the loud music inside the party.

He took another drag from the cigarette he stole, it seemed funny to him that he still had some of the gimmicks when he used to smoke tobacco. He narrowed his eyes, one closed more than the other, parting his lips slightly to let the ghost of the smoke slip, to then draw it back in, an exhale it through his nose.

“I thought you had quit smoking that.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Can't get a moment by myself,” he tutted, not needing to turn to know who was behind him on the balcony, closing the sliding door to the party.

“In fairness, I came here to have a moment alone,” Joshua admitted, leaning so that he matched Jeonghan's position to perfection, all to the exception of the cigarette resting in between Jeonghan's lithe fingers.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked in a low, raspy tone, which he corrected with a cough.

Joshua shrugged beside him, licking his lips and drew in a breath through his teeth. “I used to think that I was just tired of touring, but now I realize that I'm overwhelmed,” he shook his head slightly.

“I thought you wanted this,” Jeonghan commented, frowning to his best friend.

By this, he referred to touring. Making music, the fame, the acclamation, the money.

He shook his head once again, but now firmly. “It's consuming,” he whispered, raising his gaze skyward.

“Welcome to the life,” Jeonghan said with a nod. “Success isn't easy.”

“I want to stay,” Joshua confessed, twiddling his fingers slowly, but in an anxious way.

Jeonghan did not need Joshua to explain more. He knew why he wanted to stay. He took another deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the night sky.

“Where did you get that though?” Joshua read his friend's face expertly, knowing that it had been a while since Jeonghan smoked his last cigarette. And this was a brand he would never buy from.

“Taehyung's pocket.”

“Jeonghan,” he exhaled in resignation and Jeonghan chuckled at his reaction. “Please don't steal from my friends. And stop smoking.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and made no comment.

“What's wrong with you?” Joshua asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, feeling his brain swim under the effects of the nicotine, and alcohol. He should not have mix alcohol and nicotine. “Why are you doing this, Joshua?”

“Doing what?” he asked softly, pausing to look at his friend.

“This, with Bunny. Agreeing to a poly,” Jeonghan exhaled, the anxiousness constricting his heart. Damn the nicotine.

Joshua looked at him agape for a second. He had not expected the blunt question, but he supposed that a moment such as this was merited. The doe eyes returned to map the city skyline, searching for an answer.

“I want this,” he shrugged uneasily.

“Tsk,” Jeonghan exhaled. “Ay, don't tell me this is out of the goodness of your heart, Shuji. I know you. You could've swept this under the rug, continue a monogamous relationship with Bunny. Why drag me into this again?”

“Because you also want this,” Joshua retorted, expecting his best friend to laugh. But not even a smile appeared on the crestfallen man. Joshua exhaled too, but out of shame he still felt about the topic of conversation. “I hurt you both.”

“But this is damned to fail if you just want to make everyone happy,” Jeonghan darted a look at the man beside him. “Just because you regret hurting her and giving me the middle finger doesn't mean that we can be all in a poly now.”

Joshua winced, and he could see it in the face of the man, his words offended him. “I want this,” he emphasized with a pained look. “I want this to work for all three of us.”

“Why?” Jeonghan pressed now, raising his gaze to meet the dark doe eyes.

“I don't know,” he whispered, but Jeonghan could tell when his best friend lied. It was the tone in his voice, the bristling look in his eyes when he could not continue with the eye contact. “I want to see how this works out.”

“So, you're... experimenting?” Jeonghan frowned. “Exploring? What happens if you decide you don't like it?”

“But I do,” both men met gazes again. “I do like it. I just don't know why.”

“From being the most jealous person I know, you switched to sharing your partner with me,” Jeonghan clicked his tongue, taking the cigarette between his lips. “It's just confusing to me.”

“It's confusing to me too,” he replied tiredly, as though he had repeated that same statement many times before.

Jeonghan twisted the cigarette bud in his fingers, deep in thought.

“You know I never apologized, at least not sincerely,” Jeonghan muttered, watching the cigarette consume itself between his fingers. He raised his head, looking at the stars. “I'm sorry for what I did, for not telling you how I felt about her sooner.”

Joshua nodded, his eyes lingering on the face of his best friend. “You didn't need to tell me, Jeonghan,” he commented. “I knew it the moment you bought her tickets to come see me in the opening show.”

Jeonghan huffed, a guilty smile showing on his face. “You're lying,” his eyes beamed in a mixture of shame and joy. “I can be nice sometimes.”

Joshua shook his head, a smile curving his lips too. “No, you can be nice, but this just told me that you wanted to keep her far away from you.”

“Tsk,” Jeonghan exhaled sharply. “Am I that transparent?”

“Just to me.”

The moment slowed down when both men stared at the city lights in the night, both deep in thought, but at the same time, sharing the same feeling.

“I want her to be happy,” Joshua repeated, his heartbeat stammering under the feeling of being vulnerable.

“I want that too,” Jeonghan conceded with a softness lacing his tone. “But that's not all there is, right? You need to know what you're facing, Shuji. If you agree to this, you're agreeing to me dating her fully. Not just having sex.”

“I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I will try not to be jealous.”

“Have you heard of going to therapy?” Jeonghan quipped, receiving a slap on his shoulder, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “I've heard it does wonders.”

“Shut up,” Joshua exhaled, but there was a smile on his face too. “I'm not as jealous as I used to be.”

“I know,” Jeonghan agreed with a nod of his head. “Do you accept my apology?”

Joshua snorted. “You don't need to apologize,” he said. “But I'll take it.”

“Nice,” Jeonghan exhaled, palming the banister once and stood up straight, readying the cigarette bud on his fingers to discard it.

“Don't,” Joshua cautioned, clearly understanding the intentions of his friend.

Jeonghan flicked the cigarette bud from his fingers, tossing it into the void.

“Ah, you little shit,” Joshua huffed, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Go get it if you care that much, altar boy,” Jeonghan nodded his head to the city below them, letting out a characteristic low chuckle.

“Fuck off,” Joshua laughed, slapping Jeonghan's shoulder.

But he was quicker, returning a slap on the back of Joshua's head that resounded with a smacking noise. “Gotcha,” his giggles became high pitched.

Joshua grabbed the man by the back of the neck, quickly wrapping his arms in a headlock, enjoying the way Jeonghan struggled, laughing, and grunting as he tried to set himself free.

“Let me go, you idiot,” Jeonghan laughed, groans escaping his mouth as he tried to slip off the bigger man's grip.

“Stop being a pain in my ass,” Joshua retorted.

Both men stopped in dead in their fight when you slid the door open, a perplexed look on your face as you stepped out and into the balcony.

“H-help,” Jeonghan rasped, arms flailing at his side. “Help me baby, he's gone insane—gah!” got cut off by the man keeping him still in a head locked.

“What's going on?” you asked carefully, wide eyed.

“Nothing, baby,” Joshua exhaled with a pleased smile on his face. “Me and Jeonghannie are just having a heart-to-heart, right?”

A set of fingers poked at his ribs sharply. Jeonghan nodded rapidly, stifling a laugh. “Ah—fuck, it tickles, stop!”

Joshua released him with a breathy laugh, straightening his denim shirt he looked at you, still standing frozen by the door. “What's up, baby?”

“I was wondering where you two had gone,” you shrugged, reading them both with great curiosity.

“I wanted some fresh air, turns out he was having a smoke,” Joshua stifled a giggle when his friend shot him a cold look.

“Ah, you–,”

“Jeonghan, please stop smoking,” you chastised, and the man clicked his tongue and groaned when you crossed your arms.

“I wasn't smoking, baby, I promise,” he raised the palms of his hands to you in a gesture of innocence.

But you could tell he was lying, his widened eyes, the way he tried to hold a rein to the muscles of his face, fighting his smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's go home?” Joshua asked, taking a glance at his watch.

“Sure,” you mumbled sweetly, reaching out to grab Jeonghan's hand, slipping your fingers beneath his palm. “Let's go.”

“Me too?” he asked, sending a look to your boyfriend.

“Well, yeah, obviously, you dummy. We arrived together, we leave together,” you punctuated with a confident smile.

“But-,”

“Come on, the car is already waiting for us,” Joshua muttered, looking at his phone.

Jeonghan grabbed your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. He pulled you back to the party, where your boyfriend stopped to say goodbye to his friends as you waved at them exiting the large and heavily crowded room.

All three of you stepped in the elevator, facing the reflection showing on the closed doors. Joshua stood on your left side, casually placing a hand on your lower back as he scrolled on his phone. Jeonghan stood on your right side, still locking hands with you.

He noticed you looking at the reflection and held your gaze as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your head. “What are you thinking about, princess?”

“I had fun tonight,” you said, looking at both men flanking you. Joshua pocketed his phone when he heard you, turned to see you, and then at the reflection.

“Did you like Joshua's friends?” he asked in that sweet tone that sent butterflies through your body.

“I did, they're nice,” you nodded, turning to your boyfriend. “I'd like to meet them again.”

“Maybe we can arrange something,” he muttered. “When I come back.”

You nodded with your head ever so slightly, giving him a chance to press a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

You hissed loudly as you slid on the backseat of the car, rubbing your hands together before blowing on them to bring some warmth to your face.

Joshua laughed softly. “Let me,” he said, capturing your hands in his, pulling them away from your face. He wrapped them in his large and warm hands, rubbing them together, rapidly warming them up.

“I liked your dress,” your boyfriend muttered, his lips caressing the back of your hand. He pushed his eyebrows up, looking at you. “Is it new?”

“Hannie got it for me,” you muttered sheepishly, just as the man slid a hand on your bare thigh, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“Did you thank him for that baby?” Joshua muttered, kissing your knuckles tenderly, slowly.

“I did,” you nodded, looking at his pouted lips pressing on your knuckle.

“Mn, that reminds me,” Jeonghan muttered beside you, looking at the screen of his phone. “Check your phone, Shuji.”

Your stomach twisted; anticipation flashed through your body. You instantly knew what this was about, just as your boyfriend pulled his phone out of the pocket of his black jacket.

“On silent preferably, or else this ride will get more awkward,” Jeonghan mumbled, eyeing at the driver inconspicuously.

Joshua paused and you froze, sitting between both men. Your boyfriend exhaled through his nose slowly, his face staying impassive as the brightness of his screen flashed on his face.

You peeked at the screen, guts twisting when you caught a glimpse of Jeonghan passing the phone to you, making you record him as he fucked you against the wall of the changing room.

The screen went black.

Joshua locked his phone, placing an elbow on the car windowsill, his forehead pressed against this fist. “Fuck.”

Jeonghan laughed silently, palming the plush of your thigh gently.

“So, you two have started to have fun,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

“Just a little present. For the road,” Jeonghan quipped, pressing his lips together in a sweet smile.

Back to your bedroom, you got ready for bed, brushing your teeth facing the mirror, where you saw Joshua come to hug you from behind. He placed one of his hands on your tummy, leaning to leave a kiss on your cheek.

You beamed at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You're being clingy,” you muttered after rinsing your mouth.

“What if I am?” he retorted, pressing another kiss on your temple.

“I like it,” you admitted, turning around so you could face him, cupping his face before giving him a sweet kiss on his lips. “Let's go to bed.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” he nodded, patting your ass gently.

There in the bed, Jeonghan lied with one arm tucked under his head, looking at his phone until his eyes caught sight of you. He left his phone aside, watching you crawl on the bed to lie next to him.

“I'm starting to really like this,” you muttered, bringing a hand to gently rub his tummy up and down.

“To like what, princess?” he asked with a soft tone, his hand caught yours to play with your fingers.

“Sleeping with both of you at the same time,” you admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, so you didn't like it before?” he chuckled, his nose wrinkling at little.

Joshua came to the bedroom, lying next to you so now you were sandwiched by both.

“I did, I'm just saying that I can get used to this. I like it,” you shrugged, feeling the warmth from both bodies. Joshua cuddled up behind you encircling your body in his arms.

Jeonghan looked at your lips, then your eyes with a sweet smile on his face. “That's good to hear, princess,” he commented, leaning over to plant a kiss on your forehead.

You turned over. Joshua captured your lips in a tender kiss, conveying without words what he wanted to say, but was too tired to bring himself to vocalize it.

“I know, me too,” you whispered sweetly, cuddling up to both before falling asleep in their warmth.

It was one day exactly before Joshua had to leave for tour.

His suitcase sat on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. It was half made, an act you attributed to his reluctance to leave again.

He left earlier in the morning to rehearse with his band, and to get some other things in order before they kickstarted the tour. In his anticipating of these things, he told you he would not take long and when he came back, you could have the afternoon to spend together.

So, you saw it as an opportunity to prepare for a nice time together before he left.

Admittedly, you were not as anxious about him leaving as before somethings you could talk them out with him, but there was still a very particular thing living in your mind.

But you shrugged it off. For now.

You had some hours before Joshua returned home, so you had to make every minute count. You left to the market to buy some groceries, and to buy some other things needed for your impromptu plan.

By sundown, you had successfully cooked dinner, tidied the entire apartment, making the table look nice and pretty, adorned with candles and a nice set of cutleries and a bottle of wine. And lastly, you made yourself look pretty. Prettier.

You stomach dropped to the sound of the door being shut, and you practically ran to see your boyfriend entering the apartment, looking at the table with a question written in his face.

In his hand he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

“You’re back!” you chirped, welcoming him in a warm hug that always seemed to leave him speechless.  

“Hi beautiful,” he giggled joyfully. “What’s this?”

“Hi handsome,” you replied, equally as joyous. “I thought of surprising you.”

Joshua showed you a wide smile that robbed you of air. “I was thinking of surprising you,” he said, his eyes wrinkling around the corners. “You beat me to it.”

He handed you the bouquet of flowers, which was strikingly beautiful. It was chosen carefully and abundant with pink, blue and white flowers.

“Oh, Josh, thank you so much,” you beamed at him, taking the bouquet from his hand, and instinctively brought the first flower to your nose. “They're beautiful. Let me get them in a vase.”

Joshua watched you as you came back with the flower vase and place it on the table. He was still standing in the same spot, as if he had frozen with surprise upon seeing you all dressed up, minus your shoes.

“Come here,” he caught your hand, pulling you closer to him with a tug. “What is the surprise for?”

“Well, I wanted to spend a nice evening with you, silly,” you replied with an obvious tone, but you were unable to hold your shy grin. “I want tonight to be just the two of us…”

Joshua smiled, his hand had already parked at the small of your back, the other quickly finding your face to cup your chin, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, holding you closer when you tried to pull away.

“Wait, I also got you something,” you giggled when he looked offended at you when you pulled away and turned to the kitchen counter, where you had left a small box.

You sneaked a look at his face, meekly handing him the present you had prepared for him with anticipation for this day.

Joshua took the box, returning the glance at you but his denoted intrigue. He uncovered the box, revealing the guitar strap you had personalized only for him. It matched his in-ear pieces, and it held a secret message that only him would be able to find.

But he lowered the box, a soft look overpowering the features of his face. “Thank you, bunny,” he whispered, cupping your cheek to kiss your forehead. “I love it.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the good company of music playing in the background, food that was carefully prepared and of course, his presence. Somehow you both ended up sitting on the couch, soft touches and tender kisses inevitably led to a heavy make out session.

Joshua grabbed you by the waist, letting out a heavy grunt as he dragged you to sit on his lap, making you straddle him. “Clingy,” you whispered, teasing him.

“I remember you said you like it,” he retorted, his studded eyebrow jumping up slightly.

“I do,” you ran the back of your pointer finger down his cheek, outlining his beautiful jaw, stopping to hold his chin. “It's as if you can't get enough of me.”

Joshua laughed, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, the chirping sound warming your heart. “What can I say,” he muttered, bringing a hand from the back of your knee to your hip. “I have a nasty addiction to you,” he grabbed the hand from his chin, planting a gentle kiss on the inner side of your wrist. “I'm afraid you've made me insatiable.”

You returned the smile, though shadowed by the fact that you were overcome by the urgent need to feel his body, to melt into him. He raised his glinting eyes to you, noticing the change in your eyes.

“I'm going to miss you,” you said, conquered by the feeling coiling in your throat.

Joshua paused; his gaze softened. “Me too, baby,” he whispered too, the grip of his hands on you tightened softly.

“Yeah?” you breathed, egging him on.

“Every minute,” he responded, swallowing hard. “You know I'd take you with me everywhere I go, given my way,” he said, his gaze trained on you as you straddled him, lowering yourself on top of him.

“Would you?” you questioned again, enjoying the way his eyes were on you, reading the features of your face as though he wanted to memorize them again.

“Do you want to visit me sometimes?” he muttered, his eyes following your lips as you leaned down to capture his pretty lips with your own.

“Yeah,” you breathed, his large hands slid from the plush of your thighs, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing over the fabric of your pretty dress. “I could visit you.”

“Please do,” he muttered into your mouth, his breath hitching audibly when your fingers slipped on his hair, your fingertips raking his scalp as you kissed him deeply.

“Okay,” you replied faintly, swept away by the beauty of the man below you, looking at you with glimmery eyes.

“Will you?” now he questioned, he bit his lower lip as his hands on your waist grabbed you to press you down on his hard body, making you feel his warmth.

You nodded your head yes. “Yeah,” you echoed, diving for another long kiss, rolling your tongue in his mouth expertly. He moaned into your mouth, his hand leaving the curve of your waist to cup your cheek.

“Mn,” he hummed in delight when you thread his dark brown hair between your fingers. “Baby.”

“Yes?” you paused, breaking away from him to look in his eyes.

His hands, one parked in the curve of your waist and the other flatly pressed on the small of your back exchanged positions. Joshua licked his lips slowly, appearing to be gathering his words.

“Thank you for tonight,” he muttered, tiny dimples appearing above the corners of his mouth when he swallowed hard. “You make me so happy, feel so loved.”

Your heart stammered at the sound of his words, the way his eyes brightened up, looking at you with so much love. “You don't have to thank me for that, Mr. Hong. I do it gladly,” you whispered with a sheepish smile, pushing his hair away from his face with your fingertips. “I wanted tonight to be about you,” you said, putting weight on the last word.

“I love the sound of that,” he admitted, a small smile appearing on his face. “Come here, Ms. Hong,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your cheek, just as you closed the space between his lips and your own, sealing them with a tender, slow kiss.

The question remained. Now that you were with two people, how would it work between all three of you? What was the finish line? Was there even one?

When this little deal was prompted initially, you had your doubts. You still did. The deal was fair and simple, but it was a one that you could not take from zero to one hundred. You soon had to face insecurities, hurt feelings and other concerns, you soon came to realize that it was not so simple.

“Hey,” you hummed, pulling away from his kiss once again. “Where are we going with this?” you whispered shakily. A hand caressed his cheek, threading his long hair back.

“With Jeonghan?” he asked, easily knowing what you were referring to. You nodded. “Where do you want it to go?”

You stayed quiet, at complete loss of words. You never came to a conclusion in your mind, and never thought that Joshua would relinquish the decision over to you.

“Don't you think it's a little early to decide that?” he asked, noticing that your answer was incomplete.

“B-but,” you exhaled through your nose, irritated that you were not as ready to have this conversation as you initially thought to be. “I need us to be in the same page when you leave. I want you to be sure of this.”

“I'm sure of this,” he nodded slightly, his tone had dropped, but it still sounded so sweet, and so reassuring. “Are you having second thoughts about Jeonghan?”

“No, no,” you mumbled. “I'm just thinking—I'm having a hard time with the logistics of the whole relationship.”

Joshua showed you a smile that made your tummy flutter. “I know. I've noticed,” he giggled sweetly, but soon his features took on a more serious look. “How about this, let's just roll with it, yeah? Don't stress about it now.”

“Okay,” you whispered, however in your mind you did not put the matter to rest.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, lifting his eyebrows. “I what you want to know is that I won't doubt you, I don't. I trust you, and I want this to work.”

Something burst inside your chest. Relief, excitement. The feeling made you breathe erratically. “Yes, but how will it work?” you countered. “Are there any rules? Do you have any limits you don't want me to cross?”

His gaze softened, much as if he understood what the root of your worries was. “There are no rules,” he smiled, planting a small kiss on your forehead. “Just the ones that we mentioned. We don't date other people.”

“Is that the only rule?” you pressed, reading the features of his face but he stayed looking at you fondly.

“Do you want to set some rules?” he inquired, blinking rapidly when your hand slid from his nape and started toying with the small rings adorning his earlobe.

You shook your head. “I'm just saying, since you say that everything is okay with me and Jeonghan dating but,” you sighed out some nervousness. “What will happen when Jeonghan and I actually start dating?”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a soft tone.

In anxiousness you pinched his earlobe softly, the corners of his lips curved up. “I don't want you to feel bad,” you finally blurted, a sunken feeling slumping on your shoulders.

Joshua took a pause, the smile weakened a little, but his eyes did not seem to lose the glimmer when he looked at you. “I'm happy if you're happy,” he mumbled.

“Babe,” you leaned your head to one side. “I find that endearing but I don't believe that you won't feel jealous,” you stammered through the words. “You can be honest with me. I want you to.”

Joshua seemed lost for a second. “I'm not lying,” he said carefully, but you detected a slight hint of apprehension. “I can't say that I won't feel jealous—I am jealous that I won't be here with you and he will,” he read your face intently. “But I want you to be happy. And I want you to explore this with me and Jeonghan.”

“That's the thing I am skeptical about,” you smiled because he did first, and you pushed his shoulder. “Stop it.”

“Why do you feel skeptical?” he emphasized the word, teasing you a little. His smile faltered and he took on a more serious tone. “Mn? Tell me.”

“I think that the fact that you no longer feel possessive makes me a bit incredulous that you actually want this,” you confessed, fearful that your words strike a chord in a wrong way.

“Oh,” his mouth dropped slightly and nodded. “Well, I've told you this before, baby,” he explained, he was not condescending with you, and you silently thanked him for that. “With everything that we went through, I made the decision to change,” he paused, and you noticed that the conversation was starting to affect him, but he held your gaze, even though you saw that his eyes had started to take a glint of sadness: “I thought I would lose you. All because of my stupid jealousy and possessiveness, and I almost did.”

The remorse you felt gripped your heart so vehemently that it robbed the air from your lungs. Joshua noticed the change in your eyes, and he moved his arms to encircle your torso and pulled you to his body.

“Listen,” he started, bringing your gaze to his. “Let's take this easy, yeah? Don't worry about how I'll feel, I'm exploring this too,” he suggested, his tone softened again. “Learn about what you like, what you don't like. As long as we're talking this through, I think we'll be fine.”

The challenge presented itself to you. You thought about how hard was for you just to talk your thoughts out. You thought about how you will grapple with being with two people at once, despite one of them being away.

But you wanted this to work out too. You wanted to explore this, with him, with Jeonghan. And for once, you liked that you were the one in control.

“Mn?” he pushed his eyebrows up. “Will you tell me if things get complicated?”

You nodded with your head in affirmation. “Will you?” you whispered.

His gaze softened. “Of course,” he nodded slightly too. “I promise.”

You finally felt the weight lift from your shoulders, you smiled at him. “I promise too,” you whispered.

He responded with a smile of his own. “Better?” he asked with a tiny whisper.

“Better,” you confirmed.

Joshua brought a hand to cup your cheek as you leaned your head to find his lips to clasp them with your own. “I love you,” he murmured with a raspy tone.

You returned the kiss, just as passionate. “I love you, Joshua.”

✮ author's note: hi hello hi hi

so, let me overshare a little bit here: i'm bi. writing some bits from this chapter were a bit exciting for me because i want everything to be v clear, but at the same time i don't want to make it so extensive that it becomes the theme of the whole chapter, so, yeah. hannie is bi in this universe hehe (●'◡'●)

this fic is a wild ride for me. i love writing it so so much. and that is the whole idea of writing fic for me. i get enjoyment out of writing it and sharing it with you. idc if i lost readers when i turned this fic into a polyamorous fic, i'm happy with the readers that stayed.

✮ special credits to my beautiful @thatgirlfromwindsor, who provided me with prompts for our joshie, namely him having nightmares about losing bunny, him being so fucking in love in a rave/party setting, the indoor dates (i'll use more prompts baby, i think i'll use every single one you sent because my heart aches for more josh scenes like these) i love you 😙🩵

✮ additional note: i just started using a word processor to write (i used the tumblr desktop app to write yes, i'm insane), so there is a change in the quotes the i used for this chapter (i.e.: curved quotes) so if you're freaky w details like that like me, i am sorry hahahaskfkdjgh

anyway,

✮ STAY TUNED FOR PART FOUR!! ✮

toodles!

JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

© TO HANNIEWEEN — I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[gurugirl]

Best Friend's Dad!Harry

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, age gap, cheating, lying, angst, breeding kink

Song to listen to: Illicit Affairs (you guys have said over and over again that this song fits this series perfectly and I couldn't agree more)

note: should be read from top to bottom in order (unless noted that can be read as standalone)

Let Me Show You (6.3k words) - can be read as standalone

How your illicit affair with Mr. Styles began

Desperate (3.6k words) - can be read as standalone

A party at the Styles' house + sneaky bathroom sex

The Big Tease (7.8k words)

Some heavy teasing leads to you giving in to Mr. Styles

Not Fair (6.5k words)

Harry suggests something to you that blows up in his face *angsty*

He's Not You (7.8k words)

The aftermath of Harry's bright idea has some downfalls and he didn't expect to feel this way.

Liar (6.1k words)

Harry's wife suspects something is going on but she doesn't know what. Harry can't stay away from you and you don't want him to.

More of You (5.1k words) - can be read as standalone

Harry's at your place for a couple of days and you're enjoying having him all to yourself.

Crush (3.5k words) - can be read as standalone

A flashback: When your feelings for Mr. Styles morph from just finding him attractive to a full on crush you feel a little guilty. But then when he shows more than just a friendly interest in you at Fae's 22nd birthday party you two become close and eventually ebb on inappropriate, but you can't seem to stop.

Magic Spell (5.3k words) - can be read as standalone

A raucous Halloween party turns naughty when you and Harry find a hidden room at the Baylor mansion.

Under His Bed (4.5k words)

Harry invites you to stay at his house for the night and the following morning you both get an unexpected visitor.

Relax (4.9k words)

Fae asks you something that you aren't prepared to answer. You and Harry discuss what to do next.

Here's to Us (6.4k words)

A quick little weekend getaway is sweet and romantic. You reveal something that makes Harry do something a bit out of character.

Homewrecker (7.2k words)

The one where you and Harry finally come clean to everyone. Featuring an angry Fae, a spiteful soon-to-be ex wife, divorce terms, and lots of tears.

The Warning (4.5k words)

You and Harry are trying to heal after coming clean to everyone and Mrs. Styles comes to you with a warning.

A Little Naughty (3.3k words)

Your parents invite Harry to come with you for Christmas and you feel a little bit naughty after everyone's in bed.

Best Valentine's Day (4.2k words)

It's Valentine's Day and Harry's got something special planned.

Intuition (3.4k words)

Harry's got a surprise for you.

Must Be Nice (3.4k words)

You and Harry feel like everything's coming together perfectly. You're both getting all the things you wanted. But when you run into Fae while shopping and she notices something new about you, it bursts your little happy bubble.

The message blurb (453 words)

Fae unblocks you.

MORE TO COME!

divider by @firefly-graphics

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘 | 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where the weight of Matt's actions gets the best of him, and he tries everything to receive his girl's forgiveness.

WARNING: Fighting, cursing, crying, smut (mdni), slight praise kink. Angst with a happy ending!

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons and @ivoncheetooo1239

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 1

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt sighed deeply as he parked his car at an abandoned gas station. He closed his eyes tightly as his index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his own nose. His body was completely tense, as if someone had thrown a sack of potatoes over his shoulders and hadn't removed it until now.

The boy reopened his eyes seconds later, looking vacantly at the pitch black surrounding him before seeing out of the corner of his eye his phone screen light up for the thousandth time, alerting him of a new notification. He picked up the device, unlocking it and scrolling through the notifications bar.

His heart seemed to stop pumping blood to his body instantly, his face taking on a pale color as he saw more than 20 new messages and thousands of missed voice calls coming from Chris.

His brain seemed to go on red alert as his mind screamed Y/N's name, and then he finally revisited the memory of what he did to his own girlfriend just over an hour ago, the smoky fog finally dissipating from behind his eyes.

Matt felt like his chest was burning while his heart accelerated strongly. His arms momentarily lost strength, almost dropping his phone.

His eyes flicked through the messages before tossing the device onto the passenger seat, turning the key in the ignition and driving back.

He stepped on the accelerator with full force, exceeding all permitted limits and passing all red lights. He knew he would wake up the next day with a new ticket - or several -, but that was his last concern at that moment.

His orbs were fixed on the road, his brow furrowed as his mind rattled off the words he threw at his girl, his precious girl. If he could, Matt would go back in time right then and there, so he wouldn't break his promise to never hurt and abandon her.

Matt turned his steering wheel abruptly when their house appeared on his eyesight, slamming the break in front of the garage door, wasting no time in parking correctly. His hands quickly unlocked the doors, throwing his body out of the driver's seat and slamming it behind him, the dull thud echoing through the lonely night.

The boy's hands shook as he fumbled for the front door key, cursing under his breath each time it seemed to slip through his fingers.

Finally, after a few long seconds, he was able to open it, closing it slowly so as not to wake Nick, not wanting to involve another person in his huge mistake.

His steps were quick down the stairs, stopping in front of the familiar white door. The boy took a deep breath before turning the handle, pushing it slightly.

Matt's eyes met Y/N quickly, pain hitting his heart like a stake at seeing her in such a vulnerable state; Her eyes - despite being closed - were swollen and her face was wet from the last tears she shed before falling asleep.

A rude sound caught his attention, his gaze meeting Chris's, who stood up from his chair abruptly. His eyes held a fury that Matt didn't remember ever seeing before, while his shoulders were tense with nervousness.

Before Matt could utter a word, Chris pulled the collar of his shirt, bringing his face closer to his own. Chris's nostrils were flared from his heavy breathing, hitting Matt's face.

"If Jimmy was here, you'd be dead. That's no way to treat a woman." Chris rasped, his voice low but full of anger. "Fix your mistakes, or I'll end you."

He pulled away, roughly letting go of Matt's shirt, watching him with his right eyebrow raised and crossed arms, waiting for his next move.

Matt swallowed hard, biting his bottom lip hard, feeling the sensation of crying rise through his veins. He quickly turned his back on Chris, walking over to his brother's bed with tentative steps.

His hands lightly pulled the duvet down, exposing the fragile body covered in the pink sweatshirt set. Matt hooked his arms under Y/N's neck and knees, pulling her up carefully, watching her eyes move beneath her eyelids quickly. A sign of a nightmare.

Matt hugged her closer to his body, walking past his brother with his head down in shame, leaving the room and going up the stairs slowly, not wanting to wake her with every movement of each step.

Upon arriving in their respective bedroom, the boy took her to the bed, placing her body gently on the soft mattress.

"M-Matty?" The fragile voice echoed like lightning in Matt's chest.

Matt sighed, closing his eyes tightly as he crouched down, getting into a squatting position. The boy rested his arms on the mattress, bringing his face slightly closer to hers, watching her eyes slowly open.

"You came back. I thought you left me." Y/N whispered, her lips trembling as her eyes filled with fresh tears. "Would you really leave me?"

Matt felt his heart being crushed by her words, his cheeks burning, as if he had been slapped. He swallowed hard, mentally calling himself every worst name possible.

"No, no, no, baby! I would never leave you-" He shook his head repeatedly, his brow furrowing in such a way that he was sure it would leave marks.

You already did.

"But... You said you'd stay forever, and then you left me out in the cold, alone." A sob escaped Y/N's lips, her weak body shaking incessantly. "What did I do? Why would you do that to me?"

Matt felt his own eyes filling with tears, blinking them quickly to ward off the tears. The boy bent over his girl, hugging her head gently, stroking her hair with his fingers.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love. I fucked up. Badly." An ugly sob escaped Matt's throat, cutting off his sentence. He closed his eyes tightly, the taste of his tears touching his tongue. "I love you so much, I'm so fucking sorry. I know that this doesn't change my actions, and trying to find a plausible explanation for why I acted that way won't erase what I did." His eyes travel across Y/N's features, seeing an ocean of hurt in her eyes. "If I could, I would go back and remake our day all over again."

He paused momentarily, swallowing hard.

"All the work we are getting with the 6 million and the new things on the channel has taken a toll on me. I missed you so much, Y/N, you have to believe me. I don't know what's gotten into me, I just got so upset because I wasn't seeing you as much as before. God, I was so selfish." Matt shook his head, biting his bottom lip hard. "I love you, and I never want to hurt you, not again. I was on the wrong, I fucked up with you."

His hands shook as they found her cheeks, caressing the wet skin.

"I'm so sorry." His voice now was a mere whisper, pain present in his tone.

"I-I understand. I also made a mistake, I should have warned you that I had to work overtime and... Give you space, I know I can be a lot sometimes. I never wanted you to come pick me up out of pity or obligation-"

Matt shook his head repeatedly, silencing her by guiding her head slightly so that she looked him in the eyes. His fingers working to brush the loose hair from her face.

"Don't say that. Please. You did nothing wrong. I love taking care of you as I take you to work and pick you up... It was my fault. I was an asshole, a terrible boyfriend, I- fuck..." He presses his lips into a thin line, stopping the sob that was about to come out. "I left you alone, what the hell was I thinking?"

"It's okay." Y/N whispers, lowering her eyes to the mattress, feeling her chest burn in pain from seeing him so distressed.

"Shh, no. It isn't okay." Matt denies it, his fingers touching Y/N's chin lightly, forcing her to look at him again. "I don't fucking deserve your forgiveness." He was pleading with his eyes for her to understand that she was not the one to be blamed.

Y/N nods while sniffling, closing her eyes as she feels her fingers caress her face as if she were made of porcelain.

"I love you. So much." Matt says. His hands cup her face, bringing his own closer, touching their noses in an eskimo kiss. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeated it like a mantra, sighing when he felt his girlfriend's ragged breaths so close to his. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Fuck, baby, I'm so sorry."

Their faces were equally wet with tears.

"It's okay, I'll forgive you at some point. Just... Don't ever do it again. Please." Y/N plead in a vulnerable whisper, half opening her eyes, before closing them again as she feels Matt's lips caress hers.

"Never, I'll never do anything like that again. I promise. I'll take care of you forever." He assured, nodding his head. "What can I do? How... What can I do to make you forgive me?" His tone was full of despair.

Y/N pondered momentarily, her heart beating heavily in her chest. Her hands snaked across the duvet until they reached Matt's wrists, wrapping her fingers gently around them. She pushed her head forward, lightly bumping her nose against his, touching their lips almost imperceptibly.

"Make love with me. Show me how sorry you are. Show me how much you love me, Matt. Please." She begged softly, her eyelashes caressing her cheeks as her eyelids fluttered, hiding her orbs.

Matt felt his breathing stop, his mind seeming to process what she asked. He curved his spine higher up the mattress, sealing his lips on Y/N's quickly, before pulling away, but not enough to lose the warmth of his face against his own.

"Are you sure? I don't want to take advantage of your vulnerability." His tone, despite being anxious, had hints of hesitation, not wanting to invade his girl's space after such a traumatic event.

"Please, Matty. I need to feel you. I need you to love me." Thick tears rolled down Y/N's cheeks, her tone full of anguish and lust, a strange mix, but one that matched perfectly at that moment.

Matt didn't blink, pushing himself up off the floor before kneeling on the mattress, helping Y/N lift her upper body.

He rested his right hand on the bed while his left one gently held his girl's jaw, as if she was made of glass and could break at any moment.

The boy brought his face closer to hers again, taking her lips in an intense kiss. His blue eyes closed at the sensation, his warm tongue caressing Y/N's bottom lip, asking for entry, which was quickly granted.

Their tongues started a beautiful dance, the taste of tears mixed with saliva. Whimpers escaped Y/N's throat, her hands flying to the back of Matt's neck, lightly tugging at the curly strands.

Matt moved nimbly onto the duvet, kneeling between his girl's legs and using both of his hands to guide her down, squeezing the spot below her breasts, just above her ribs, so that her back lay against the mattress again.

He bent his torso over Y/N's chest, keeping his weight supported on his right hand while his left one caressed her cheek, never once breaking the kiss.

Y/N snaked her hands around Matt's shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles caused by his position, desperate for contact.

Her fingers went down her boyfriend's abdomen like warm water, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up slowly. Matt broke the kiss for a second, allowing her to pull the piece of clothing off his body.

His large hands worked on ripping off Y/N's hoodie gently, admiring every bit of her exposed skin, and mentally thanking her for being braless.

He dropped the heavy piece to the floor, lowering his spine again and sealing her lips, their tongues now in a slower pace, pain giving way to love.

Matt ran his right hand down Y/N's breasts, caressing her nipples just momentarily, before moving further down, trailing his fingertips across her stomach and navel, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

He touched the waistband of her sweatpants lightly, breaking the kiss momentarily to draw in air, which filled his lungs like water on dry ground. His eyes wandered over the girl's hopeful expression, taking that as a go-ahead.

Y/N lifted her head from the mattress slightly, pressing their mouths together again, craving the contact.

Matt smiled against her sensitive lips, finally running his hand through the layers of clothes, moving down until he found Y/N's pleasure point.

His fingers rubbed circles around the already swollen clit, receiving nasal sighs from the girl below him, who raised her hips in search of more contact.

He took his fingers further down, slipping a finger between her folds, her wetness helping him to move better. He gathers a bit of it before slowly introducing two digits.

Matt pulled his lips away from Y/N, his blue eyes traveling over her features contorted in pleasure as she felt his long fingers going deep inside her. He felt like he could admire her like that forever; cheeks flushed from all the crying and pleasure, mouth slightly open - from where gasps and sighs escaped -, brow furrowed and eyes closed.

That was his private paradise.

"Matt, please." Her voice came out in a faint whisper, a silent plea for more.

The boy didn't take long, lifting himself onto the mattress to have greater access, dragging the sweatpants and panties down his girl's legs slowly, not wanting to hurt or rush her.

He removed his own pants and boxers, returning to his initial position between his girlfriend's legs. Matt lowered his torso, spreading small, wet seals across her belly toward her breasts.

His hands gently held Y/N's heels, pushing them so that she bent her knees and placed the soles of her feet on the mattress, opening her legs wider.

A breathy moan escaped the girl's lips as Matt gently kissed one of her nipples, the slightly chilled air of the room hitting the saliva on her hot skin, goosebumps rising through her body as a result.

"Is it good, baby? I'm making you feel good, hm?" Matt questions knowingly. "Y'so pretty. Even when you cry. My pretty girl."

He stroked the skin between the valley of her breasts with the tip of his nose, before moving up further, managing to see Y/N nod her head repeatedly in response, her cheeks wet from her tears.

Matt pressed his forehead to hers, their heavy breaths mixing as he looked down momentarily, taking his cock in his right hand, pumping it a few times, a wince escaping his lips at the sensation.

His blue eyes met hers, silently asking if he could continue. In response, Y/N's right hand snaked up his torso towards the small of his back, pressing down lightly, while her left hand squeezed the biceps of his occupied one.

Matt lowered his hips, brushing his red tip between her folds. He moved his hips gently, slowly pushing into her. A unison moan escaped both of their lips, Y/N closing her eyes tightly at the feeling of invasion while Matt kept his open, taking note of her every expression.

The boy eventually started picking up his pace, going with slow and shallow thrusts, sighs escaping his mouth, accompanied by breathy moans from Y/N.

"Matt- Oh." Her mouth opened in a perfect O as she felt Matt hit a specific spot inside her that made her see stars. "D-don't stop. Please."

"I won't, my love. I'll never let you go. Never again." Matt promised, his hips moving to deepen his thrusts.

Tears fell from Y/N's eyes due to the overwhelming sensations, the weight of the previous events still hurting in her heart, mixing with the immense pleasure that the boy was presenting her.

Matt sealed each of her tears with his lips, whispering sweet nothings and little apologies, along with huge declarations of love.

A sob escaped Y/N's mouth, her teeth working to clamp down on her lower lip in an attempt to stop the loud, ugly sounds from keep escaping.

"Hey, hey, sweet girl. I'm here for you. You're so important, the best girl out there. I love you so much... M'so sorry." He murmured against her lips lightly, his own heart aching with each tear that fell her pretty eyes. "Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?"

"N-no, please. I need you, I need to feel you." Y/N responded desperately, shaking her head, lifting her head off the mattress and sealing their lips in a messy kiss.

"It's okay, it's alright." Matt responded gently against her mouth. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

His movements never stopped, Matt alternated the rhythm between slow and deep, reaching places inside Y/N never reached before, feeling her hot, spongy walls pressing him into a delicious tightness.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Y/N moaned against Matt's chin, their faces moving messily against each other from the now faster movements. "P-please." She cried.

"I love you so much, so fucking much." Matt panted back, fucking her with a little more urgency, chasing her and his own orgasm.

It didn't take more than five thrusts, and Y/N felt her entire body tremble, her legs instinctively wanting to close - being blocked by Matt's hips - while her belly contracted. Her chest rose slightly from the mattress as her spine arched from the intense pleasure that hit her.

Her eyes saw little stars as she rolled them tightly, Matt's name escaping her lips like a mantra.

The sight and feeling of his girl's body shaking against his brought Matt's orgasm to the surface, hitting him hard. A moan escaped his throat as he buried himself deep inside her pussy, feeling his cock throbbing against the walls that seemed to want to crush him.

Matt pressed his nose against Y/N's cheek, breathing in her scent as he felt the sensations of his orgasm slowly subside.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Y/N whispered, still in a post-orgasm trance, her eyes closed and her breathing ragged, her legs still having small spasms.

Matt kept his eyes fixed on her face, watching her come down slowly, rubbing his thumbs on her hipbones to ground her.

"Y'with me, babe? S'all for you, my love. Always." Matt slurred, pressing his lips against his girl's warm, flushed cheek. His left hand went up her body to her face, wiping away the traces of tears. "I'm so sorry, petal." He asked again, his chest still aching.

"S'okay, I forgive you." She nodded, kissing his left shoulder lightly, her eyes heavy with sleep from exhaustion and excessive crying.

"I'm going to fill the bathtub and give you a relaxing bath, okay? M'gonna take care of you, sweet girl." Matt spoke softly, moving his hips slowly, taking his cock out of her, receiving a small sound of discomfort in response. "Shh. I know baby, I know." He whispered. "I'm gonna grab some snacks from the kitchen, so you can eat while I wash your body. How does that sound, pretty girl? Hm?"

"S'good. Please." Her voice came out in an almost incomprehensible whisper, her eyelids serving as curtains for her heavy eyes. She could feel her head floaty and her heart beating in a rhythmic rhythm, her skin warm with euphoria.

Matt sealed her forehead with his lips for long seconds, closing his eyes and breathing in the natural scent of Y/N's skin.

He still felt the guilt eating him alive, promising himself he would never again let his emotions get the best of him. He would take care of her, his best girl.

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[marysfics]

Submerged in Silence

"And I scream for your name and l call for you babe, but I can't be with you."

Angst, High States of Panic, Toxic Statements, Trauma, Enochlophobia, Small Mentions of Gun Shots (in reader's mind), Fluff, Happy Ending.

Note: I've deleted the series and made one long fic of it. Might be a bit over the top.

The memory crept back into your mind like it always did-slow, unwelcome, but persistent. It had been a few months ago, but the sharp sting of that day still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You could feel the weight of the promise you'd made, even now, pressing down on your chest like a lead weight. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, the sun casting soft, golden light through the windows, illuminating the room in a way that felt almost mocking.

You remember how peaceful the morning had seemed. Alexia had already left for training, her energy buzzing with excitement for that night's match.

She'd kissed you goodbye, a quick peck on your lips before slipping out the door with her usual calm confidence, and you had smiled, telling yourself that this time would be different. This time, you'd go. This time, you'd push past the gnawing anxiety, the fear that always seemed to take root deep inside of you, and you would sit in that stadium, cheering her on like the supportive partner you so desperately wanted to be.

In your mind, you could see it clearly-thousands of people dressed in the team's colors, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of pride swelling in your chest as Alexia stepped onto the field, her name echoing across the stadium.

You imagined sitting there, your heart full, watching her in her element, knowing she could look up and see you in the stands, finally there for her. You had wanted that, more than anything.

The days leading up to the match had been a blur of nervous energy. Every time Alexia mentioned it, her face lighting up with excitement, you'd nod and smile, doing your best to ignore the cold sweat that would break out across your back.

You didn't want to disappoint her-not again. So, you told yourself you could do it, that this time you would make it through, no matter what it took. But as the day grew closer, that sense of determination began to unravel. It always did, didn't it?

The first hints of doubt crept in during the quiet moments-while you were making coffee, brushing your teeth, or folding laundry-little flashes of panic that tightened your chest and made your pulse quicken. You pushed them down, tried to force them away, but they always came back stronger.

By the morning of the match, that flicker of doubt had turned into a full-blown storm of anxiety, swirling in your chest like a hurricane. You remember sitting there, hours before you were supposed to leave, staring at the clothes you'd laid out on the bed. They were just jeans and a t-shirt something casual, something comfortable-but the sight of them made your stomach twist.

Your hands were already trembling, the familiar tightness in your throat beginning to choke the air from your lungs.

You can do this, you told yourself, again and again, like a mantra. But each repetition sounded weaker than the last.

You had even managed to text Alexia, forcing your fingers to type out a message that you hoped sounded confident. "I'm getting ready. See you soon. I can't wait." She responded almost immediately, a string of heart emojis, a "Can't wait either, mi amor," and that radiant energy she always carried.

You had stared at your phone for a long time after that, letting the words blur as you tried to imagine yourself stepping into that stadium. But every time you pictured it, something inside you recoiled.

The thought of all those people, the noise, the claustrophobia of being trapped in a crowd of strangers, your mind unable to quiet the constant hum of fear. It wasn't just anxiety. It was a visceral, physical reaction, like your body was rejecting the very idea of it.

You knew it didn't make sense. You knew that, logically, you were safe-that nothing bad would happen to you at a football match. But the panic didn't care about logic. It never had.

As the hours passed, the pressure in your chest grew worse, your breath shortening until it felt like there wasn't enough air in the room. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing louder than the last. You tried to get up, tried to move toward the clothes you'd laid out, but your legs felt like lead. Your hands were slick with sweat, your fingers trembling as you clutched the edge of the bed, willing yourself to stand.

But every time you thought about leaving the apartment, about stepping into that massive stadium full of strangers, the world around you seemed to close in. You knew what was coming before it even hit.

You had felt it building for days-the panic attack that was now bubbling to the surface, threatening to drown you in its familiar waves. The room spun, the walls felt too close, too suffocating.

You gasped for air, your heart racing so fast that it felt like it would beat right out of your chest. You pressed your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but the feeling of spiraling out of control was already overwhelming.

And that's when the tears came. Hot, angry tears of frustration, of guilt, of shame. You were supposed to be stronger than this. You were supposed to be able to push through for her-for Alexia. But here you were, once again, frozen by the weight of your own fear. You sat there, curled up on the edge of the bed, your body shaking as you let the panic run its course, helpless to stop it.

By the time the panic had finally receded, the match had already started. You didn't even have the strength to move, let alone text Alexia to tell her you weren't coming. All you could do was sit there, staring at the empty clothes on the bed, feeling the crushing disappointment settle over you like a blanket.

Hours later, when Alexia came home, the guilt was so thick in your throat that you could hardly speak. You saw the way her face fell when she walked through the door, her usual bright smile dimming as she realized you weren't at the match. She didn't say anything at first. She just stood there in the doorway, her eyes searching yours, and in that moment, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your gaze fixed on the floor. Alexia nodded, her face unreadable, though the silence between you was louder than any words could have been. She sat down beside you, her hand reaching out to rest on your knee, a quiet gesture of comfort. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"It's okay," she said softly, but you both knew it wasn't. Not really. She didn't press you for an explanation, didn't ask why you hadn't come. She knew about your anxiety, about the way crowds could suffocate you. But knowing didn't make it easier.

Understanding didn't erase the fact that, once again, you hadn't been able to follow through on your promise. And that hurt more than anything.

Later that night, as you both lay in bed, the silence stretched between you like a chasm. You had forced yourself to smile, though it felt more like a grimace, your heart racing again as you whispered the words that had been echoing in your mind all day. "I swear be I'll be there next time, you said, the words tasting like desperation on your tongue.

Alexia had smiled, a soft, tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She kissed your forehead gently, her touch warm and reassuring, but there was a sadness in the way her hand lingered on your cheek, as if she didn't fully believe you. "Okay" she whispered back, her voice quiet and understanding.

But in the darkness, with the weight of your failed promise still hanging between you, you knew the truth. You weren't sure you believed it, either. Because no matter how much you loved her, no matter how badly you wanted to be there for her, the fear was always waiting.

And the next time would come, just like this time had, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to push through it.

Back in the present, the room is a quiet testament to the echoes of promises broken.

You sit in the living room, the silence between you and Alexia stretching out like an impenetrable barrier. The apartment, once a cozy refuge, now feels like a cage, its walls closing in with every passing moment.

The space around you is eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the apartment settling. The walls, once filled with the promise of warmth and love, now seem to close in on you, pressing against you with their silence. The apartment feels cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy it once held when Alexia was around.

You glance over at her, sitting across from you on the other end of the couch. Her eyes are glued to her phone, scrolling through something you can’t see, though you can sense the frustration in the rigid set of her shoulders and the way her fingers swipe aggressively across the screen. She’s trying to pretend that it doesn’t bother her, that she’s unaffected by the fact that you missed another one of her games, but you can feel it, heavy in the air between you.

It’s not just the matches, you think, the thought cutting through the fog of your own guilt. It’s everything. I’m losing her piece by piece.

You remember the times when the apartment was filled with laughter, where every shared moment felt like a step closer to building something lasting.

Now, the laughter is scarce, replaced by the silence that stretches endlessly between you. Each missed match, each broken promise, feels like a crack in the foundation of what you had built together. The more you miss, the more the cracks widen, and you feel yourself slipping through, unable to grasp the pieces that once made you whole.

Alexia’s silence is louder than any words she could offer. It’s the way she avoids looking at you, the way her responses are curt and measured, like she’s trying to hold back a flood of emotion. You can see it in the way she sits, rigid and unyielding, her body language speaking volumes about the hurt and disappointment she’s trying so hard to conceal.

Why do I always fail? you wonder, the question echoing in the emptiness. Why can’t I be the person she needs me to be?

You think back to the last time you made the promise—the words you had spoken with such conviction, hoping against hope that this time would be different.

But as the days turned into weeks and the matches continued, your anxiety only seemed to grow stronger. The idea of being in a crowd, of facing the roar of thousands of voices, became a mountain you couldn’t climb. And now, each time you failed to live up to your promise, the guilt grew heavier, a constant reminder of your inadequacies.

Alexia finally puts down her phone, her gaze drifting toward the window, though she’s not really seeing anything outside.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and you feel the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating. You want to reach out, to say something, to break the silence and bridge the gap that’s grown between you. But you’re paralyzed by the fear of saying the wrong thing, of making the situation worse.

The walls of the apartment seem to close in tighter, and you find yourself staring at the familiar surroundings—pictures on the wall, the cozy throw blankets, the shared books and trinkets. They’re all reminders of the life you used to share, a life that feels increasingly distant and out of reach.

I wish I could just explain, you think, feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. I wish I could make her understand that it’s not about not supporting her. It’s about me being trapped in this fear, this suffocating panic that takes over every time I try to step out of my comfort zone.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anxiety is still there, a constant companion.

You know Alexia is struggling, too, though she tries to hide it.

You can see it in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, in the way she tenses when she thinks you’re not looking.

You wish you could find the right words, the right way to make her see that this isn’t a matter of not caring. It’s not about the love you have for her; it’s about the crippling fear that prevents you from showing it in the way she needs.

The silence continues, a living, breathing thing between you. You can feel it pressing against you, and the weight of it is almost too much to bear. You can see the way Alexia’s frustration is building, a quiet storm that threatens to break free. You want to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that you’re sorry, but the words catch in your throat.

Finally, the dam breaks. Alexia’s eyes blaze with a mixture of hurt and anger, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “Do you even want to be part of my life?” she asks, her voice breaking, the words cutting deeper than you expected. “Every time I look up at the stands, I just... I just want to see you there. I want you to be proud of me.”

The intensity of her question hits you like a physical blow, and you flinch, the weight of guilt pressing down on your chest. The vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “I am proud of you,” you say softly, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m proud of you every single day, but I’m scared. I’m scared of the crowds, the noise, the pressure. I don’t know how to be in your world without drowning.”

Alexia’s frustration morphs into a deep sadness, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her emotions is too much to bear. “I don’t know how to help you if you keep pulling away,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to understand, to find a way to make this work, but every time you retreat, it feels like I’m losing you a little more. I need you to meet me halfway. I need to know you’re fighting for us, not just fighting against your fears.”

Her words are a dagger to your heart, each one a reminder of the emotional chasm that has grown between you. You can see the pain in her eyes, the strain of trying to hold everything together while you struggle with your own limitations. The realization that your fears are pushing her away is almost too much to bear.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “I really am. I wish I could be stronger, be braver. I don’t want to keep failing you.”

Alexia’s frustration is palpable, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I need you to try,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “I need you to find a way to be part of my world. It’s not just about the games; it’s about being present, being there for me. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

The desperation in her voice, the ache of her words, cuts through your defenses. You realize that this isn’t just about you anymore—it’s about both of you, and the future you’re struggling to hold onto. The frustration and sadness are mingling in the air, a storm of emotions that neither of you know how to navigate.

But as the argument spirals, the rawness of the emotions takes over, and both of you start hurling words that can’t be taken back.

“You don’t understand what it’s like!” you shout, your voice trembling with the weight of your own fear and frustration. “You think I’m just not trying hard enough, but you have no idea how paralyzing it is. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every time you try to step out.”

“And you don’t see how your inability to even attempt it makes me feel like I’m fighting this battle alone!” Alexia retorts, her voice rising with anger. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to show up, to be a part of my life, and every time you back out, it’s like you’re telling me that I’m not worth fighting for.”

The emotional gap between you feels like an ocean, wide and uncrossable. Each accusation, each defense, only widens the chasm. The words you exchange are sharp, and the air between you is heavy with the weight of what’s been said and left unsaid.

“Maybe we’re just too different,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, a resignation in your voice that reflects the depth of the chasm growing between you.

The silence that follows is deafening. The rain outside intensifies, the sound of it hitting the windows echoing the heavy beating of your heart. The rhythmic patter of the rain becomes a backdrop to the quiet storm inside, a harsh reminder of the distance that seems to be expanding with each passing second.

Alexia stands there, her face a mix of anger and despair, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time.

The rain continues to drum against the windows, a relentless, unyielding force, mirroring the tumultuous emotions inside you both.

In the midst of this emotional hurricane, you finally find the words, though they come out strained and hesitant. “I’ll come to the match tomorrow,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll be there to sit with you. I know you’re hurt, and I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll come, even if it’s hard for me.”

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope mingling with the pain. “You’d better come,” she says, her voice resolute though it still trembles. “Because if you don’t, I don’t know if our relationship can survive this. I need to know you’re willing to fight for us, even if it’s hard.”

You nod, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll be there,” you promise, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come for you. I’ll try, even if it’s tough.”

As you both stand there, the rain outside continues to fall, a steady, soothing backdrop to the fractured silence between you. The storm may have raged, but there’s a small, fragile hope that with each step you take towards each other, the distance can start to close. For now, all you can do is hold onto that promise and hope that it will be enough to bridge the gap that has grown between you.

The evening wears on, and neither of you knows how to fix the damage.

Alexia goes to bed without saying another word, leaving you alone in the living room, staring at the raindrops streaking down the glass. Each drop seems to trace the contours of your guilt and sadness, mapping out a path that leads deeper into the abyss of your own making. The silence that fills the apartment feels like an impenetrable wall, a barrier between you and the understanding you both desperately need.

You feel like you’re drowning in your own emotions, sinking deeper and deeper into a place where reaching Alexia seems increasingly impossible. The weight of your failure, the depth of your anxiety, and the magnitude of the rift between you make it hard to see a way out.

The next morning arrives with a heavy sense of dread. The apartment is still and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Alexia gets up, her movements mechanical and distant. She goes through her morning routine with a cold efficiency that only amplifies the silence. When it’s time for her to leave, she doesn’t kiss you goodbye. Instead, she simply puts on her coat and heads for the door, the finality of her departure a bitter reminder of the fracture in your relationship.

You watch her go, feeling a surge of panic that makes your hands tremble. You know you have to push through the overwhelming fear that has been building up inside you. It’s like trying to swim against a relentless current, but you force yourself to take each step, determined to follow through on your promise.

Your hands shake as you try to get dressed, struggling to button your shirt and tie your shoelaces. Every movement feels like an immense effort, as though you’re moving through thick molasses. You try to calm your racing heart, but the fear is relentless, making it difficult to focus.

When you finally make it to the car, your hands are slick with sweat as you fumble with the keys. Opening the door feels like a victory, a small but significant step towards facing your anxiety. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and slip into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, a powerful, comforting sound amidst the storm of emotions.

The drive to the stadium feels surreal, as if you’re moving through a dream. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as the world outside blurs by. When you pull into the stadium garage, the sight of the vast, looming structure fills you with a mixture of trepidation and resolve.

You park and take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of the car. Your legs feel shaky beneath you, and your hands remain clammy as you grab your belongings. The distant roar of the crowd, already vibrant and loud even in the parking lot, seeps into the car and intensifies your anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to open the door and step out. The air in the garage is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of your nervous energy. As you close the door behind you, you spot Alexia standing by the elevator, her attention focused on her phone. The weight of the argument still lingers, an unspoken heaviness between you that neither of you has fully addressed.

You approach her, each step feeling like an enormous effort. Alexia looks up from her phone as you draw near, and for a moment, her eyes meet yours, a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place. Her gaze lingers on your hands, which are still visibly trembling. Without saying a word, she reaches out and takes one of your hands in her own.

As you and Alexia make your way through the bustling corridors of the stadium, the roar of the crowd grows louder with each step. The noise is almost deafening, a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the rhythmic thumping of thousands of feet. Every sound feels like a physical blow, a relentless assault on your senses.

You try to keep yourself together, forcing yourself not to flinch when the crowd’s collective excitement erupts into a wave of sound. The intensity of it makes your heart race faster, each shout and cheer echoing in your chest. Moving past the sea of passionate supporters, you find yourself clutching Alexia’s hand tightly, as if it were a lifeline pulling you through the storm of sound and motion.

When you finally reach your seats, you collapse into them with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The crowd's roar continues unabated, a relentless wave of sound that seems to pulse through your body. Alexia leans in, her voice soft and soothing as she tries to offer reassurance, but the noise is so overwhelming that her words are lost in the din.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly. You try to anchor yourself to the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, hoping it will help calm the storm inside. For a moment, it feels like the breathing exercise is working, and the edge of your panic starts to dull.

Suddenly, you hear Alexia's voice again, cutting through the noise with a note of genuine pride and happiness. “I’m so proud of you for coming,” she says, her words filled with warmth and affection. “I know this is really hard, but I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You manage a smile, the effort of it feeling almost like a victory. It’s a small, fragile smile, but it’s genuine. You’re grateful for her presence, for her understanding, even if your anxiety still lingers at the edges of your consciousness. Alexia doesn’t notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes; she’s too focused on her own feelings of pride and happiness.

The game begins, and for a while, the atmosphere, though intense, is manageable. You keep your focus on Alexia’s comforting presence beside you, drawing strength from her closeness. The match unfolds, and despite the roars of the crowd, you manage to keep yourself together, finding solace in the fact that you’re here, supporting her.

But when Barcelona scores, the stadium erupts into an explosion of sound. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wave of noise that seems to crash over you and pull you under. Your heart races, and the intensity of the celebration sends your anxiety spiraling out of control. The cheers and shouts blur into a chaotic din, and for a moment, the world around you feels like it’s closing in.

In the midst of the crowd’s jubilation, your senses become overwhelmed. The noise, the movement, and the sheer volume create a disorienting storm. Suddenly, you hear what you think are gunshots—sharp, jarring sounds that make your blood run cold. They’re not real, of course, but to your panicked mind, they’re all too vivid. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as tears stream down your face, and you feel hyper-alert, every nerve ending on edge.

Alexia notices the sudden shift in you, her gaze darting to your tear-streaked face. She can see the fear and panic in your eyes, and her own shock and guilt mirror the turmoil inside you. Her hand grips your thigh, trying to ground you, but the touch makes you flinch uncontrollably. The action catches her off guard, and she quickly realizes just how severe your distress has become.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Alexia says urgently, her voice filled with concern. She gently but firmly holds your face in her hands, trying to bring you back to the present. Her eyes search yours, filled with worry. “It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re going to go home. It’s alright.”

You can’t speak, only nod weakly as the tears continue to fall. The crowd's noise fades into the background as Alexia’s presence becomes your sole focus. She helps you to your feet, guiding you carefully through the throngs of people, her own emotions a tumultuous mix of regret and concern.

When you finally reach the parking garage, the air feels different, more contained and quieter. Alexia helps you into her car, her movements deliberate and gentle as she opens the passenger door for you. She takes a deep breath, her own anxiety evident in the tight lines of her face, but she masks it with a determined calmness.

You slip into the seat, still trembling, and Alexia quickly moves to the driver’s side. She starts the engine, the purr of the car offering a brief, comforting reprieve from the overwhelming noise of the stadium. The gentle hum of the car’s interior is a soothing contrast to the chaos of the game.

As she pulls out of the parking garage, she glances over at you, her eyes soft with concern. “We’re going home,” she says, her voice steady but filled with empathy. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? We’ll get through this.”

As the car glides smoothly out of the parking garage, the city lights begin to blur past the windows. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft glow of the dashboard create a cocoon of calm in contrast to the chaos you just left behind. Alexia’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with the tension she’s trying to control.

You close your eyes, focusing on the slow, deep breaths Alexia encouraged you to take. The steady rise and fall of your chest, paired with the gentle motion of the car, helps you regain a sliver of composure. Every breath feels like a small victory, a way to push back against the overwhelming tide of panic.

The drive feels longer than usual, every minute stretching out in a haze of relief and residual fear. Alexia occasionally glances over at you, her gaze filled with a mix of worry and determination. Her silence speaks volumes, conveying the depth of her feelings without needing to utter a single word.

As you approach your apartment, the familiar surroundings offer a glimmer of comfort. Alexia pulls into the parking space and puts the car in park, her movements deliberate and careful. She turns off the engine and reaches over to take your hand, her touch gentle and reassuring.

“We’re here,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your anxiety. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? You did so well coming here tonight, and we’ll work through this together.”

Alexia helps you inside, her hand steadying you as you move through the apartment. You feel the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on you, each step a reminder of the intense panic you experienced just hours before. You offer a small, grateful smile, though it feels shaky and incomplete.

She guides you to the bedroom, where you sink onto the bed with a sigh of relief. The familiarity of your room, the soft bedding, and the quiet atmosphere offer a small respite from the overwhelming sensations you’ve been battling. As you lay back, trying to calm your breathing, you notice Alexia moving about the apartment with a determined efficiency. She heads to the kitchen, her movements focused as she prepares to make tea.

The sound of the kettle whistling is a distant hum, almost comforting in its normalcy. Alexia’s footsteps are soft and deliberate as she moves around the kitchen, and you can hear the occasional clink of mugs and the rustle of tea bags being opened. Despite the calmness in the apartment, you can’t shake the feeling of embarrassment that lingers, a heavy weight that’s hard to ignore.

You pull the blanket around you tighter, trying to stave off the tremors that still shake your body. The evening’s events replay in your mind, each flash of panic and each tear that fell feeling like a stark reminder of your own vulnerability. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, but it’s a challenge with the remnants of your anxiety still coursing through you.

After what feels like an eternity, Alexia enters the bedroom with a steaming mug in hand. She sits beside you on the bed, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness. She places the mug on the nightstand and carefully helps you sit up, her touch gentle and reassuring. The tea’s warmth offers a small, comforting distraction from the turmoil within you.

“I made us some tea,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “It’s just chamomile—hopefully, it’ll help you relax a bit.”

You manage a small, grateful smile, though it feels like an effort. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the lingering embarrassment, makes it hard to meet her eyes.

Alexia hands you the mug, her fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Take your time,” she says, her gaze tender as she watches you take a cautious sip. “I’m here for you.”

The warmth of the tea soothes your trembling hands, and you close your eyes, letting the calming effects of the chamomile slowly seep into your system. Each sip helps ground you a little more, easing the last remnants of panic.

As you drink, Alexia sits beside you, her presence a steady anchor. She reaches out and strokes your hair softly, the gentle motion a quiet affirmation of her support. The silence between you is filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words—she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.

You feel a wave of gratitude for her patience and care, despite the turmoil you’ve brought into the evening. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “For everything. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Alexia shakes her head, her expression resolute. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice firm yet gentle. “We’re going to get through this together. I just want you to know that you’re not alone.”

As the evening wears on, the trembling subsides, replaced by a deeper sense of calm as you and Alexia sit together in the quiet of your bedroom. The remnants of the night’s chaos slowly give way to a fragile but hopeful peace, and you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of Alexia’s presence, finding solace in the quiet support she offers.

The room is quiet the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow over the bedroom. You’re still in bed, the remnants of last night’s anxiety slowly receding, replaced by a tentative calm. Alexia has already been up for a while, you can tell by the faint sounds coming from the kitchen—clinking dishes, the soft murmur of the radio.

When she finally enters the room, she carries a tray with breakfast—simple, but thoughtful. A steaming cup of coffee, a slice of toast, and a bowl of fruit. She places it gently on the nightstand and sits down beside you on the bed, her face reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a heaviness that hints at the weight of her words. She meets your gaze with a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before, her eyes searching for yours as if seeking forgiveness.

“I know last night was really hard,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “And I know I said things that were hurtful. I was frustrated and scared, and I let that frustration come out in a way that wasn’t fair to you.”

You sit up slowly, taking in her words as your heart tightens with a mix of relief and sadness. The sincerity in her voice, the raw emotion in her eyes, it all makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I didn’t understand,” Alexia continues, her voice breaking a little. “I didn’t see how deep your fear was, and I pushed you too hard. I’m so sorry for that. I said things I’ll always regret. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and she reaches out to gently take your hand in hers, her touch tender and apologetic. “I know now that I should have been more patient, more understanding. I thought I was helping, but instead, I only made things worse. I want you to know that I regret every harsh word I spoke. I wish I could take it all back.”

You squeeze her hand, feeling the weight of her apology settle in your heart. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “I understand that it was just frustration and fear on both our parts.”

Alexia nods, her tears falling freely now. “I never wanted our arguments to hurt you, and I’m so sorry for not being there for you in the way you needed. I promise to work on understanding your fears better and to be more patient. I want us to be able to face these challenges together, without adding to each other’s pain.”

The sincerity of her apology, combined with the raw emotion she’s displaying, helps to heal some of the wounds from last night. You can see the depth of her regret and the genuine desire to make things right, and it offers a glimmer of hope for moving forward.

“I appreciate that,” you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check. “I know it’s not easy for either of us, and I don’t expect everything to be perfect. But I do believe that we can work through this together.”

Alexia nods, her face reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude. “Thank you for understanding,” she says, her voice filled with warmth. “I love you, and I want to be here for you, no matter how difficult it gets.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, holding each other’s gaze and finding comfort in the unspoken connection between you. The air in the room feels lighter, the tension of last night giving way to a more hopeful sense of reconciliation.

As the morning unfolds, you and Alexia take small, careful steps towards mending the fractures in your relationship. You share breakfast together, the simple act of being present and supportive a testament to the strength of your bond. The road ahead may still be challenging, but the commitment to understanding and patience offers a foundation for healing and growth.

In the quiet moments that follow, you hold on to the promise of better days ahead, knowing that with love, effort, and empathy, you can navigate the complexities of your relationship and emerge stronger together.

-

Note: I'm aware that this isn't my best piece, but I wanted to get it out anyway. As a process to grow with new writing styles.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - REMEMBRANCE

A/N: And another one! I don't know. I got this idea and turned it into a story. It's okay, I guess. Let me know. I tried.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, sadness, some fluff

My stories are written mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 3400+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - REMEMBRANCE

My heart and soul filled with sadness. I knew my biological parents gave up on me years ago, but for them to do this to me, was unacceptable. For me, this went too far. They knew this would break me. 

When I got the call from my father, which was shocking as it was, all the happiness I felt that day left my body like a quick rain. Those words caused me pain I hadn’t felt in years. He took my breath away. 

Once the call ended, my legs brought me to the lake that belonged to the school estate. It was farther away, hidden in woods. The students weren’t allowed to visit it without any supervision. Usually, it was my safe place - a place where I would collect my thoughts and get my shit together. If I was nowhere to be found, some people knew I would be here, trying to get over anything that troubled me. 

The air was cold. Autumn was coming to an end. Winter was already at the door. It seemed that even the sky cried for me today, all grey and cloudy. The ground was wet and muddy. The scent of rain lingered in the air. It was only a matter of time before its ears would drop again. 

I had no idea how long I was standing there. My arms were wrapped around my body, giving me the hug I needed. No one knew what happened. I couldn’t bring myself to go to Storm or my boyfriend and tell them what happened. Worse things were happening in our lives. I didn’t want to be whiny. 

Deep breath in and then out. Slowly, before you start to choke on your sobs.

My body was slightly shaking from the cold. I knew I could use my mutation and warm myself up. But I wanted to feel as normal as possible - like a human without any abilities. I wanted to experience life as it was. That included mourning. The damn coat I brought with me was thin, good for warmer autumns. 

“Y/N!” 

I released the rest of the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Logan’s voice was loud and upset. I could hear his heavy steps coming closer to me. I sighed. I hoped to avoid this confrontation before collecting all my thoughts and returning to the X-mansion. Gently, I turned my head to the side to acknowledge his presence. 

“I’ve been looking for you for hours,” he huffed. “You skipped all your classes, didn’t say a damn word about where you were going. I asked around and nobody knew where you were. Shit, I thought you left or worse, something happened to you.” 

His anger was noticeable in his voice. I hated that my absence made him upset. That was something I didn’t want to achieve. A month ago, they almost got me on a mission. No wonder Logan was worried. 

Tears collected in my eyes, threatening to spill. I tried to turn my head away from him, not to see my sorrow. I hugged myself tighter. He was mad at me, I could tell. The energy around us was insane.

But then he stopped talking and focused on me. The tension coming from him eased. “Y/N?” his voice got lower. “Are you okay?” He became worried. 

Another sad sigh escaped my lips. I had to talk to him. I had to confess what had happened. “No,” I admitted. “No, I’m not.” 

Logan’s hand crawled around my shoulders, pressing me closer to his body. His scent hit my nose. The cigars, the cologne and something so him made me close my eyes and enjoy his closeness. I had to admit this was what I needed.

“What’s going on, baby?” he asked softly. “You can tell me.”

When I raised my eyes and looked into his, he instinctively wrapped his other arm around me, pressing me to his strong body. Logan pressed a kiss on top of my head. This time, he waited patiently before I started to speak. 

Deep breath in and out. “I, uh,” I started slowly. My voice wasn’t strong. “I got a call from my father,” I said. 

“What?” Logan was surprised. He knew about my past, what my parents did to me. So to hear this was a bit shocking. “What did he want?”

Again, deep breath in and out. “My grandma died this morning,” my voice trembled. I tried so hard not to cry. I had to be a big, strong girl. People die. That’s how life was.

Logan hid me in his embrace, resting his head on top of mine. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so harsh on you when I came here,” he apologised. “Why didn’t ya tell me? You should have come to me, princess.” 

“Here’s the plot twist,” I tried to sound funny but failed. “I cannot come to the funeral.”

“What?” 

Slowly, I pushed away from Logan’s embrace, only to meet his eyes. “My father called me about her death,” I started to explain what happened. “He made it clear that I cannot attend the funeral. He didn’t give me anything about the date or the location. He said, ‘You should be glad I called you about this.’” 

Logan’s hands appeared on my face, stroking my cheeks lovingly. The anger was evident on his face. This time, it was not aimed at me. I could imagine where his mind went - trying to kill my father 50 ways.

“The only person who accepted me is gone and I can’t say goodbye,” I added. This time, the tears escaped my eyes. The grief wanted out, to be seen and heard. “I can’t say goodbye, Logan. I can’t…” It’s been so long since I cried like this. It was hard to catch a breath, to stop the hot tears streaming down my cheeks and onto Logan’s hands. 

Again, I was pushed into his arms as he consoled me. His fingers were in my hair, lightly brushing it. He was a tough guy, but Logan knew how to show me affection and tenderness. 

This was one of the times when I struggled to be a mutant. Because of my mutation, my weirdness, I was kicked out of the family when I was fourteen. The only person who kept me safe and hidden was my beloved grandmother. She was the one who helped me get to the school. And now, she was gone. The only thing that remained was the secret she shared with me several years ago.

“Shh,” I heard Logan’s soothing voice. “It’s okay, baby. Let it all out. I’m here for you. I’m sorry how I came to you. I should have known…” 

I cried. I didn’t know for how long, but I let the tears fall, let the grief consume me whole. I never told Logan about my grandmother. He knew how fucked up my family was. Why did I keep her a secret when she was the first bright thing in my life? 

Logan helped me get back to school. I had no idea how much time had passed. My hands were cold, my whole body was shivering. All I knew was his lingering touch on my waist and arms as he kept walking with me. He never let me go. He was present, focused on me. How would I ever repay him for this? 

Some students saw us walk through the hallway until he led me back to my room. Well, it wasn’t my room anymore. Logan stayed with me since the beginning of our relationship. Back when he had his room, it was empty. It served solely for sleeping purposes.

He helped me get off the coat and put me to bed. “Rest, baby,” he said softly. Logan pressed his lips against my forehead. “You’ve been through a lot.” 

I grabbed him by the leather jacket. “I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered to him. “Please, stay with me. Please.” 

He took off his leather jacket and climbed onto the bed, pulling me as close to him as he could. Logan’s arms wrapped around my body. “My sweet girl,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I was so mean to you when I found you at the lake.”

“That’s okay,” I said. 

“No, no it’s not. I was worried. I’m sorry, baby.” 

Logan’s soothing voice slowly helped me fall asleep. I needed a nap after all the information I had learnt. My grandmother was gone. My family still hated me. I wasn’t allowed to say one last goodbye to the person who loved me for who I was. 

. . .

When I woke up, I first noticed the darkness coming from outside. Was it already that late? I yawned, stretched my limbs. My hand reached for the phone. It took me two tries until I managed to grab it. It was seven o’clock. I’ve slept for hours. I felt as if someone had slapped my face. Shaking off the tiredness, I sat up.

That’s when I realised Logan wasn’t next to me. He wasn’t in the room. I couldn’t hear the water running in the bathroom. I was alone. 

A shiver ran through my body. The air inside my room was cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm up a little. For a brief moment, everything was fine. It felt like a regular day - until it wasn’t. Everything that happened came rushing back to my mind. The reality hit me like a train. There was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral, to say the goodbye I longed for. They forbade me to see my grandmother one last time.

The urge to smash something came out of nowhere and it was strong. Anger bubbled inside of me. The sadness changed. It morphed into something, that made my brain turn dark. If I could set a person on fire, I would. I glanced at my hand. I could feel the heat radiating from it. One more upset thought and it would end up in flames. 

The door to the bedroom opened. Logan came back. He sneaked into the room, closing it carefully behind him. He tried to be silent. When he turned, he noticed me sitting on the bed. “Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

My eyes travelled over his leather jacket. Where had he been? “I am… feeling it all,” I replied. “Everything is bubbling inside of me. All negative emotions are fighting and I don’t know how to deal with it.” I became quickly frustrated. 

He sat on the bed, resting one hand on my thigh. He squeezed it reassuringly. “How about a short walk before dinner?” he asked. His gentle voice was welcomed.

Blinking, I nodded. I liked that idea. “Sure. Fresh air will help me calm down a little.” 

Logan helped me get my coat and made me wear a scarf. “It’s cold out there,” he said with a little smile. I opened my mouth to ask silly questions when his lips found mine in a gentle kiss. It caught me off-guard. “Love ya, baby,” he whispered. 

Before he could pull away, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body to his. Again, I let out the breath I didn’t know I kept holding inside. When his arms sneaked around my waist, I whispered, “I love you, too.” 

The hallways were empty and silent. Weird. At this time, the student would hang out with their friends. It was possible Storm or Charles made a program for them. We got to walk around the place unnoticed. 

Because we were alone, Logan held my hand in his. When my eyes glided to him, I could see the faint smile. He seemed proud. What made him that way? His head turned to me. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m just… watching you.” 

“Creep,” he teased and I chuckled. I knew he wanted to cheer me up. We liked making fun of each other. “I was wondering,” Logan changed the subject. “How about we go away together the next weekend?” 

I blinked a few times. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just the two of us, far away from the school. We can visit the mountains, rent a cabin.” 

My lips stretched into a big smile. “I would love that. Do you think Charles will let us go?” 

“Scott and Jean got their honeymoon for two weeks. I think the Professor will let us take the weekend off,” he grimaced. “I think we both deserve it, baby.” 

I squeezed his hand harder, excited by the suggestion. “Yeah, we do. I need some time off. I was ready to set everything on fire,” I confessed. “I can feel the emotions bubbling inside of me. You, saying to go away for the weekend, made me simmer down.” 

While we walked further into the woods, I realised we were heading back to the lake. I raised a brow, turning my head to him.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply held my hand and led the way to the place where I loved to take a moment and think - or to calm down. 

From afar, I noticed something in the distance. A light. It was small, but it was there. And then another light. Fireflies, maybe. I didn’t think much about it until we reached a point where I could see bigger movement - people. I raised a brow. I noticed Storm’s white hair. When she turned, she held a candle in her hands. I stopped walking. 

Logan brought my left hand to his lips, kissing the top of it. “Come, baby.”

“W-what is that?” I questioned. I only knew that he wasn’t proposing. Logan would never do it in front of people. 

He gently dragged me forward. “You deserve to say goodbye to the one person who accepted you in your family,” he explained. “It’s fucked up that your family banned you from the funeral. So, I wanted to give you this.” 

My eyes filled with tears. It was sweet and sad at the same time. Once we approached all our friends, our teammates, I lost it. Instantly, I pressed my whole body into Logan’s arms, hiding my face in his chest. What he did showed me how much he cared. No one ever cared for me this way. 

I felt a pair of hands on my back. They were smaller. The scent of Storm’s perfume hit my nose. Hesitantly, I turned around. My red teary eyes met her dark one. 

“Oh, Y/N,” she whispered my name. In a second, she pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

It was overwhelming. When I pulled from her arms, I scanned the surroundings. Everyone held a candle in their hands. Charles’s eyes were staring at me, face filled with sadness. He was close to Jean and Scott. 

My heart was breaking and mending at the same time. This gesture meant the world to me. I took a few deep breaths to calm down. “Y-you didn’t have to do this,” I whispered. I didn’t trust my voice. 

“This is the least we can do for you, Y/N,” said Jean. She wasn’t holding a candle. There was a wreath resting on her hands. There was a mix of flowers and four tea candles on it. She handed it to me. 

“It’s beautiful. T-thank you.”

“Everyone should be able to say their last goodbyes to those they loved,” Scott added. 

With Logan and Storm walking by my sides, we approached the shore. I handed the wreath to Logan to hold it. A tiny flame appeared on my finger. I lit up all four tea candles. It was beautiful. 

I looked into Logan’s eyes, shivering. He handed me the wreath. “Do as you feel, baby,” he whispered to me. “Say your goodbyes.” 

I turned on my heel, having one last glimpse at all the people gathered at the lake. This was my family. These people helped me get through a lot. Charles took me to the school and gave me a second chance. Storm was my best friend. Peter, or as I’d like to call him Speedy, was a charmer, but loyal and like a brother. Piotr, Bobby, Rogue and many more belong to my family. And Logan, my sweet grump, was the love of my life.  

“I knew your grandmother, Y/N,” said Charles before I could open my mouth. After hearing that, my eyes widened. “She was a sweet woman.” 

“How?” 

“I met with her when she found out you were a mutant,” he explained. “She was the one who arranged for you to come to this school. I had the honour of meeting her a few times. She asked about you a lot. I always gave her every update about you.” 

I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He sighed. “She asked me not to. All she wanted for you was a normal, peaceful life.”

I made a face. It was a mixture of anger and confusion. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Your father watched her like a hawk. He feared she would be in contact with you. And we both know how your father viewed you or the mutants in general.” 

I took a few deep breaths through the nose. In the end, she wanted to keep me safe, hidden from my fucked up biological family. She was the only light from that world I had left. And now, it was time to say goodbye.

“Thank you for telling me about it,” I said calmly. “She was an angel. Did she tell you that her husband was a mutant? Yeah, she told me before I came here. Unfortunately, he died when my father was a child. He never knew about it.” 

“Was she a mutant too?” Storm asked. 

I shook my head. “No. I inherited the mutation from him. It skipped my father and I was the one blessed with it,” I smiled. It was a blessing in disguise. Because of my mutation, the invincible string pulled me here, to this school where I met my other family. 

I turned back to the water and squatted. I placed the wreath on the water's surface. I pushed it away from the shore. A light breeze stroked my cheek. Storm used her power. The wind moved it farther away. 

“Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing me here, where I found my new family,” I whispered into the wind, hoping that it would carry my words into the other world. “Now I get to help mutant kids to have a better, educated life.” 

I let out a choked sob. I wanted to cry - was it from happiness or sadness? Was it both? I didn’t know. All I knew I needed to let it out. 

“You were bigger than the whole sky,” were my last words before the heavy cry started. 

Immediately, two strong hands wrapped around my shoulders and pressed me to a muscular body. Logan’s scent hit my nose. He was there for me, held me until I calmed down. 

I was surrounded by love and support. They showed me they were there for me during happy moments and sad times. 

“Let this be a uniting moment,” I heard Scott’s voice. “Through every moment of our lives, whether it’s good or bad, we have each other. We are one family. We stand together and fight for what’s right. We give one another a shoulder to lean on. Remember that no matter what, we have this family.” 

I pushed a little from Logan, only to lift my eyes to meet his. Instantly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead - in front of everyone. It made me melt. 

I then noticed Scott holding Jean in his hands, Storm talking to Charles. Bobby and Rogue shared a kiss. Peter was nowhere to be found. Everyone took the moment to their hearts. 

“If only I could introduce you to my grandmother,” I said to Logan when I turned my head on the other side, watching the wreath slowly float on the lake. “She would like you a lot.” 

“You think so, bub?” he asked, chuckling. 

I hummed. “I can see how she’d tease you for everything.” 

“Ah, I see it runs in the blood,” he squeezed my sides. “How do you feel?”

The answer was simple. “Good, peaceful but sad,” I admitted. “Thank you for doing this.” 

He lifted my head with his fingers. “Anything for ya, princess.” His lips found mine in a simple kiss that spoke a thousand words. 

[radiosteve]

Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F. 

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut. 

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics. 

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes. 

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him. 

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit. 

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts. 

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room. 

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child. 

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him. 

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus. 

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door. 

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours. 

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did. 

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder. 

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours. 

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind. 

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up. 

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened. 

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself. 

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. 

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun. 

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter. 

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him. 

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust. 

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant. 

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around. 

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been. 

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now. 

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car. 

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you. 

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him. 

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below. 

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence. 

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer. 

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence. 

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand. 

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

[vivalabunbun]

As You Are, I Am Too

Summary: If we compare people to magnets, opposites attract and sames repel, so why are two stoic faces paired as soulmates?

Word Count: 15.4k (why are you surprised at this point, get some snacks)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Smut(r18+), NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow fic, Perfectionist! Reader, angst, arranged pairing, TW: Toxic family, unhappy childhood trauma, child of strained marriage trauma, TW: Themes of self-loathing, themes of infidelity(misunderstanding), toxic work environment, slight workplace harassment, pushy boss, slightly yandere! Alhaitham?, Soft! Alhaitham, second chance romance?, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Alhaitham, Degradation, Heavy adult themes, attempts at comedy

Author Note: This is experimental, I want to explore if two same sides of a magnet can still attract. I want to explore the fumbles and mistakes of love.

Side Note: Here is a continuation

Do you believe in soulmates?

It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. Because who doesn’t want to believe in it? The concept of an ‘other half’, a missing piece that completes you. Someone who loves you and only you unconditionally.

Who doesn’t want to experience that? 

To be loved, to be accepted, and to feel whole are all natural human desires. So it’s no surprise society, regardless of the century, culture, or demographic all obsessed over finding that other half.

To find a hand that fits perfectly within the gaps of one’s own. 

The greatest minds in all of Tevyat came together, analyzing each pattern, quantifying each data point, and testing each hypothesis until their magnum opus was created: The Akasha System.

Taking the work out of fate’s hands and into a large database. 

What criteria did this wonderful system use to piece together two halves of a whole? Who knows, it’s a black box. However, the machine was quite smart, quite quick, and quite accurate.

So much so, there was no reason not to use it. 

Humans, no matter how much some might deny it, despise being lonely. They fear it so much they’d rather hold a hand which strangles theirs with an equally crushing grip.

That’s why people rush toward their soulmates the moment the Akasha finds them, they fear being alone. 

But do you believe in soulmates?

“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.

“But you still used the Akasha??” Kaveh juts a finger in the direction of an ashen-haired man.

“And?” Disinterested eyes glance at the time displayed on a clock in the rowdy bar.

“And?! What do you mean and? You just said you don’t believe in soulmates!” The slam of Kaveh’s palms on the table made a bit of beer lap over the edge of his cup.

“I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’m not ignorant to the benefits of marriage.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s convenient.” The blunt statement rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he motions for the tab.

“Ugh, you know what, forget it.” Kaveh chases his heavy sigh with a hearty swig of his cup.

“Well then, I’ll call it a night.” He’s stayed out long enough.

Placing a handful of mora on the table to cover his tab, Alhaitham bids goodnight to his two workplace acquaintances and former college roommate.

He swiftly strides towards the creaky tavern door, swinging it open as he steps into the warm Summer evening. Tomorrow is another workday, better to get an adequate amount of rest.

“Still the same even after a full year with her, huh,” Kaveh sighs dryly.

“Did you really think he’d change after marriage, Kaveh?” Cyno finally chipped in from the sidelines. 

“I should’ve known, someone as egotistical as Alhaitham practically married himself.” 

“Now, now, his wife is nowhere as egotistical as him,” Tighnari says over the rim of his glass. 

Cyno and Kaveh paused for a moment, sharing a glance as they considered Tighnari’s observation. With a shrug, they concluded: you weren’t nearly as egotistical as Alhaitham.

Still, the great mystery remains. 

“How is he the first to marry?” The blond bachelor slumps further on the tavern stool. 

“Life is full of wonders.” The ebony-haired bachelor gave a few comforting pats.

———————————————————————————

Unlocking the solid oak front door, Alhaitham steps into the serenity of a quiet house. Good, his ears were slightly buzzing from the boisterous conversation in a crowded bar.

Taking a few more steps into the entranceway, the man shuts the door behind his body.

The dull gossip over a few rounds of drinks made their influence known to him, he just wants to go to bed. Thus he takes a few more steps toward his bedroom.

“Place your shoes into the closet, I just mopped the floors.” A level voice called out from the living room. 

Alhaitham’s movement halts, quickly glancing down at the Oxford shoes still on his feet, taking note of the spotless floorboards.

Wordlessly, Alhaitham unties the laces allowing him to kick them off with ease, placing them onto the shoe rack just behind a closet door. 

It’s a habit that slips his mind every now and then despite a year of marriage; Surprisingly unsurprising when you take into consideration his busy mind.

However, times were different now, he’s no longer a kid, free to be lost in thought. He’s now a homeowner of a spacious house, a space he shares with you, and you liked things clean. 

Not a speck of dust lingered on surfaces, no plates left in the sink, and books pristinely placed on organized shelves. Qualifications that he deemed exceptional for a life partner.

Now with slipper-clad steps, Alhaitham makes his way through the house, peering into the living room to spot your curled figure reading on a sofa. The warm glow of a floor lamp illuminated the soft curves of your cheek. 

“Is something the matter?” You didn’t look up from the page as you addressed him. 

“No, just heading to bed.” 

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The start and finish of tonight’s conversation, after all, you valued a quiet house as much as he did. His colleague’s words weren’t without merit, even Alhaitham isn’t stubborn enough to deny the obvious.

Hobbies identical to each other, books upon books lined up along numerous shelves, preferring to stay within the walls of this house unless dragged out by friends. 

Your indecipherable gaze and stiff lips rival his own stone face. Perhaps that’s why the Akasha paired the two of you together. Two beings with stoic faces only another stoic would bear for a life partner, like two sides of the same coin. 

Alhaitham stops unbuttoning his shirt behind his shut bedroom door, reanalyzing the previous statement. Actually, that isn’t a very good analogy.

It'd be more accurate to compare you and him to a double-sided mirror that reflected only one view. 

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

The man sitting across from the cafe table, introduced as Alhaitham, bluntly states, interrupting your sip of coffee, warm beverage just barely touching your lips. 

Placing your cup back down on the coffee shop table, your gaze observed the stranger who just met you moments ago - a  meeting in a small cafe arranged by Sumeru’s Ministry of Human Relations, the government body tasked with delivering the Akasha’s verdict. 

After a few breaths, you decided to humor his abrupt statement with a response. Staring straight into his teal-orange eyes, you say,  “What a coincidence, neither do I.”

————————

So then why did two nonbelievers follow the verdict handed to them? It’s simple really.

Two salaries combined can buy a sizable house. Two pairs of hands get chores done faster. Two signatures on a certificate save tax money. Life is simpler with a partner to bear some of the burden. 

Young professionals and fresh graduates aren’t known for their financial independence; a boy eager to move out of a cheap flat and away from an infuriating roommate, a girl trying to escape a noisy environment.

The circumstances had aligned. 

And that’s how it’s been for two years now, a nice quiet house. Although, you’d be lying if you weren’t thankful that the Akasha paired you with someone as handsome as Alhaitham. Silver hair, broad frame, and beryl eyes with a hint of ochre -  maybe he’s an apology gift from some fickle god.

He’s a well-rounded and capable man; perceptive enough to know not to cross boundaries drawn in the air, apt enough to not disrupt the serenity, and able to take care of himself.

Although, he could learn to launder better. 

Your lips tug down as your eyes scan over the deep wrinkles crimping the fabric of a freshly washed button-down. It looks too rumpled to look professional, even on him. A sigh falls from your lips.

The presence of slow steps make your head turn in their direction, connecting with Alhaitham’s neutral eyes, quirked gray eyebrow questioning your purpose. 

Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.

The only time you or he crossed into the private haven of one another was when the floors needed to be mopped or shelves dusted. Owning a house means owning up to tedious chores and dividing up responsibilities spares one’s sanity from the tediousness. 

It’s best to point out the critiques now to spare your own clothes from the same fate. Picking it off the back of his chair, you show him the shameful state of the garment. 

“Leaving your clothes in the dryer for too long will create stubborn wrinkles.” You advise. 

Teal eyes glance at the shirt in your hands before they flick towards the closet rack, your own gaze follows, noting the numerous other shirts in a similar state. Another heavy sigh escapes you, it's obvious Alhaitham attempted to do laundry yesterday.

Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment. 

“I’ll rewash them and hang them outside, it’s the best way to smooth them out. Heat isn’t recommended for your fabrics.” You swiftly walk past him with your arms full. 

“Thank you, I’ll clean the floors then.” He takes hold of the mop against the wall.

This seamless switching of responsibilities is done with less than two sentences, the efficiency of which is only possible between two people such as yourselves. 

Button-downs are much more fickle than a casual t-shirt, using the wrong detergent or leaving it unattended for too long will cause unsightly wrinkles.

Alhaitham’s laundering skills have improved in the last two years… perhaps the singing of the dryer still slips past his preoccupied mind. 

The two of you are working professionals. Crucial insight you’ve learned from your parents: A nicely ironed shirt, neatly brushed hair, and elegantly tied ties are all it takes to make others believe in the white lie of a put-together life. 

Alhaitham was raised by his grandmother, a detail you recall from a passing conversation some time ago. It shows.

The amateur attempts at chores, the books strewn about a desk absent-mindedly, and the afternoon naps spent on a couch underneath a sunlit window are secrets only seen behind closed doors - all telltale signs of being well-loved.

‘How nice it must be.’ You thought, clipping his freshly washed button-downs to the clothesline, allowing the Sunday morning rays to shine down upon them.

A stone-faced man was once a beloved grandson. Maybe his juvenile attempts at chores were too endearing for an elderly lady to correct. 

Hidden from everyone but the audience of swaying fabric and a curious star, a bittersweet smile tugs at stiff lips. 

The clinking of forks against porcelain plates accompanies the evening news. Your eyes starring indifferently towards the TV just around the corner from the dinner table; looks like tonight's topic was the annual metrics of the Akasha.

With each passing year, these metrics only climb higher and higher, a machine learning to calculate better and better. 

“What’s your theory behind the Akasha?” you blurt out the question without looking away from the screen. 

A pair of utensils halted their movements as Alhaitham glances at the evening news. He takes a moment to wipe the corners of his mouth before humoring you.

Technically, the two of you have yet to fill your daily conversation quota. Might as well do it over dinner. 

“It’s all mathematics, the Akasha system. Pairing individuals based on collected data. Demographic, interests, and dispositions, are all factors in a pairing,” he explains in his baritone voice. 

“Mmm, then again it's all just a black box, we can’t be certain unless they choose to reveal it.” You ponder aloud. 

“Correct. Those factors are all key when it comes to compatibility. The Akasha simply uses probability. However, there’s the element of human variability.”

“Meaning it can’t always be right.” You know this, live it even.  “Is that why you don’t believe in the concept of soulmates?” Pivoting to an adjacent question, you return your attention back to the man across the table. 

“Yes, it’s an unrealistic belief.” Alhaitham sips on his wine.

“Such a brilliant conclusion, what an astute mind you have.” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe over a glass of water.

Narrowed teal eyes honed in as his glass returned to its place on the lacquered surface, unamused by your quip. 

“How about you? What theory brought you to hold the same brilliant conclusion?” 

“Do you know phenylethylamine? PEA?” Glancing up from your glass.

From his idle gaze and unmoving lips, you take his silence as a “no”. 

“It’s a stimulant that causes your heart to beat abnormally, released when you’re around a special someone. It causes what people describe as the ‘rush’ or ‘fever’ of love.” 

He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“But then your brain gets used to it, and the abnormality in your chest corrects itself.” You take a sip before continuing, “Nothing last forever, so why do people think love is an exception? That only one person ever will cause their hearts to flutter till the end of time?” 

A dry giggle follows the clink of your water cup against the wood. 

“How insightful.” Alhaitham takes another sip of wine to chase his sarcasm.

Maybe it was the amusing quip or how tonight’s butter chicken turned out to be exceptionally delicious, but a subtle smile curls at the edges of your lips. With today’s conversational quota fulfilled you focus your full attention back to the awaiting dinner. 

You remain ignorant to the gaze of teal eyes, oblivious to how it fixates on the faint smile complimenting the soft curves of your cheeks and plush lips. 

“...” 

The front door shuts and locks behind you, your shoes are halfway into the closet before a familiar scent beckons you towards the living room.

Quickly getting into your slippers, you trek through the entranceway and round the corner. The vivid hues of pale blues and gentle violets with pops of bright yellow catch your eyes, confirming your speculations: it’s a bouquet. 

The bundle of flowers were placed into a long-forgotten vase. Turning away from the blooms, you face the man currently thumbing through a book on the couch -the only other person with access to this quiet haven.

Turning back to observe the blooms, you note each species of flower. The Sumerian Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, and…Padisarah.

You observe how the pollen of the Padisarahs dusts the radius of the surface around the vase. It’s a fickle flower after all.

A fickle and potent-smelling flower. 

A scowl twists your face despite your best efforts, the sickly-sweet fragrance of the capricious blooms assaults your senses. 

“Please open a window.” your hand comes up to shield your nose. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“The smell is giving me a headache.” 

A headache forms from within the deepest depths of your mind, the same visceral reaction to the heavy perfumes that plagued your childhood walls. Your mother believed the saccharine scent could cover up her infidelity if she sprayed enough.

Compared to that artificial perfume, fresh Padisarahs were much tamer, but still enough to make a bitter taste appear at the back of your tongue. 

“I see.” Alhaitham sets his book down, getting up to allow the Autumn breeze in. 

Swiftly, you trudge away from the vase and its potent blooms and down the hall, eager to find an untainted corner of the house. It’d be best to sleep the headache off. 

In the morning when you round the corner back into the living room, you notice the vacant vase and table wiped clean of any speck of yellow pollen. Passing through into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts in the air.

As you pour yourself a cup, you take note of how the trash has already been taken out, a fresh trash bag lining the bin. 

Good, flowers were a hassle to keep around the house.

———————————————————————————

“Chocolates?” You study the box of sweets left out on the kitchen table. 

“I picked them up while getting ingredients for dinner,” Alhaitham answers, busy chopping carrots. 

“You can have some.” 

You return your gaze  back to the intricately designed package in seasonal Winter colors. It’s not often that you indulge in such elegant treats, you couldn’t refuse such an offer. 

Delicately picking up a piece, the glossy dark chocolate shine looks inviting, you can see the quality in these sweets. Placing the small chunk onto your tongue, savoring the rich flavor. Not too sweet and not too bitter. 

Using your tongue to maneuver it towards your teeth you bite into its center, only for your tastebuds to be assaulted by a foul flavor. The distinct and sharp tang of alcohol and the revolting aftertaste of bourbon spoils the sweetness. 

Refusing to allow the detestable flavor to remain on your tongue, you briskly swipe up a few napkins, spitting the foul sweet out. You frown at the stubborn tang of bourbon which threatens to ruin your appetite for dinner. 

“You can have the rest.” You throw out the crumpled napkin. 

“Are they of poor quality?” The tapping of the knife paused. 

“They’re just not to my taste.” 

“In that case, I hope tonight's dinner is.” Alhaitham resumes his task. 

Taking a glass out from the cupboard, you fill the cup with fresh water before gulping it down, washing the foul tang of alcohol from your tongue, and even fouler memories of the stench of sour wine and crushed cans.

Wiping the escaped droplets off with the back of your hand, you go for a second glass. Hopefully, you can cleanse your palate. 

———————————————————————————

“Do you have plans tonight?” Alhaitham’s words make you stop in the middle of the hallway. 

You have a book ready in hand for a night of reading on the sofa under the soft glow of the floor lamp. You know his eyes can see that,  gaze questioning his intentions. 

“I was given two tickets to a movie, would you like to accompany me?” He holds out the slips of paper. 

As your eyes pass over the printed font, you recognized the title, a name picked up within the chatter of coworkers at the office. It’s An adaptation of a famous light novel from Inazuma, and the reviews seem positive. 

“Sure.”

You could get out of the house a little more. 

…

It seems like everyone wants to see a movie tonight, the theater lobby is filled with bustling crowds, families with excited kids, and couples holding hands.

And then there’s you and Alhaitham. Standing side by side, his hands carrying two carbonated drinks, your hands holding an overpriced bag of popcorn, walking toward the room printed on the tickets. 

“C5…C6, looks like we got good spots.” You settled into the plush seats, careful not to spill the bag. 

Alhaitham hums in response, placing your drink in the cupholder. More and more people filed into the screening room, waves of ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s rolling through the space until all the seats were finally filled. The lights begin to dim as the opening logo booms through the sound system. 

The cinematography was beautiful, the musical scores accompanying the plot pleasing to the ears, and the popcorn perfectly seasoned.

It’s been a while since you’ve last gone to a movie theater, maybe you should go more often. As you brought a few more pieces of popcorn to your lips, your eyes travel toward Alhaitham.

His arms crossed as the light of the silver screen reflects onto his skin, noticing your stare, his teal gaze connects with yours. 

Moving the striped bag closer to his frame, you offer him some popcorn, he paid for the refreshments. It'd be a shame if he didn’t get to enjoy them too.

His large hand reachs over and takes a handful, your curiosity wanting to see his reaction to the snack. However, a piercing shrill snaps your attention away. 

Just a few rows away, a woman stood up from her seat, throwing a bag of popcorn at the man sitting beside her. Screaming words you couldn’t quite make out as they merges with the onscreen dialogue and equally furious shouts of the now popcorn-covered man.

Their thunderous voices were only amplified by the acoustics of the theater. 

They’re both standing now, still hurling insults and grievances one after another. There’s a ringing in your ears, their faceless silhouettes in the dim theater replaying a scene you’ve seen many times before. It’s as if they’ve finally developed a conscious, now aware of the stares and glares thrown their way.

Oh, look they’re leaving now, still fighting the whole way out of the screening room. 

With the disturbance now cleared, a low wave of murmuring swept through the audience before dying out. The dialogue and soundtrack were audible again, the atmosphere reverting to how it was.

You didn’t feel like snacking on the popcorn anymore. Gaze focus on the fluffy puffs for the rest of the movie. 

“Did you enjoy the film?” An indifferent voice resounds from your right side. 

Walking out as the credit rolled in the background, following the flow of traffic toward the exit. You were walking by Alhaitham’s side, but your mind was elsewhere, a subtle frown etched on your lips. 

“It was fine, just crowded and loud.” Your voice was just as flat. 

“Oh.”

Tossing the unfinished bag of popcorn way into the nearest trash can, the two of you continue on the silent journey home.

Perhaps, it’s best if you just stayed curled up with a book. 

“Eh? It’s been three years and you’ve never gotten your wife flowers? I knew you were cold-hearted, but not to this extent. Here, a quick bouquet of some fresh flowers I picked.” 

“You should gift her some sweets, maybe then you two can talk a choco-lot… Did you get the joke?”

“Are you serious?! Almost four years and you never took her on a date?? You’re hopeless! Take these tickets and take her to the movies. By the way, you’ll have to pay for them.”

Alhaitham wasn’t sure what made his colleagues so invested in his marriage, maybe a projection of their own lack of one. To his colleagues, you were just as much of an enigma as the ashen-haired man.

Any passing comment, no matter how vague or curt, would bring forth an onslaught of unsolicited advice. And it was for that very reason within the walls of your home these details shall stay. 

Alhaitham isn’t sure which was more irksome, the uninformed guidance of bachelors, or the fact he was the one who actually tested each suggestion. Regardless, at least these trials were fruitful in the sense he can gauge your dislikes now. 

You despise flowers for their fickle messes and scent. You’re revolted by overpriced chocolates. You detested rowdy theaters and subpar films. 

Four now going on to five years, and these were his results. Frankly, he didn’t have to subject you to such experiments for these results, because they aligned with his own preferences.

A waste of time, disturbing your peace for the sake of his own curiosity. 

A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he sets the bucket of water down, one hand holding a mop as the other turns the knob of your bedroom.

It’s a Sunday, meaning the floors needed to be mopped. Your door's hinges sing as they swing open only to be abruptly silenced as Alhaitham stood motionless under the door frame. 

Oh. He should’ve knocked.

You were in the midst of getting dressed in front of your floor-length mirror, glimpses of smooth skin peeking out from under baggy fabric. Before he could stop, teal eyes followed the dark fabric reaching just down to the middle of your thighs and draping low on one shoulder. Your fingers were in the middle of buttoning the clearly oversized shirt as you turned back to focus on him. 

Blank gaze traveling up your soft lips set in a neutral position and meeting your deadpan stare, Alhaitham’s conscience restarts.

Today was Sunday, which meant it was laundry day yesterday, and it was the ashen-haired man’s turn to wash and dry the clothes. Somehow, his button-down got mixed in with your blouses, leading to your unamused reaction. 

“I’ll be more mindful next time, did my shirt dull any of your whites?” Forcing his eyes to avert, a late attempt at respecting your privacy. 

“It’s fine, fortunately, the dye didn’t bleed out during the wash.” You turned away as your hand pulls the draping fabric up your shoulder. 

“Just place the shirt over the chair in my room, I’ll take care of it later.”

“Okay.” 

Once more your door sings as he shuts it on the way back into the hall, deciding to clean the floors of his room first and allowing you to change into your rightful clothes. It was early noon and a weekend, meaning there was no reason for Alhaitham to brush out his sleep-tousled hair. Hopefully, messy gray locks were enough to conceal burning ears. 

———————————————————————————

“The Evolution of Everything.” His eyes scan over the title held out in front of him. 

A newly published scientific journal filled with freshly collected data, the book's spine still in mint condition. Alhaitham takes note of the identical copy held in your hand. 

“You seemed interested in this genre, so I picked up a copy for you.” You motion for him to take it. 

There wasn’t a rule etched in stone that forbade the sharing of books within these quiet walls. The books on your shelves have been more interesting than his as of late. A pattern of folded corners inflecting more and more pages of the books lining your bookshelves, evidence of a certain man’s meddling.

 The warning glare every time you smoothed out a creased page directed his way didn’t seem to be enough to stop the unconscious habit of his hands.

It looks like you’re trying out a new solution, getting him his own copy to prevent the infection from engulfing each and every corner of your bookshelves. 

“Thank you, I’ll read it soon.” He accepts the peace offering. 

With that, you made your way back to the sofa. Flipping open your own copy, fingers gently making sure to not crumple the delicate pages or crease the pristine spine. Alhaitham compares it to the book currently held in his own hands.

An older book, while not falling apart or tattered, it’s obvious the man has thumbed through its pages. A well-loved book as his grandmother would’ve described it. 

Alhaitham needs to stop this practice he never corrected in childhood. 

———————————————————————————

“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway. 

Said man is currently placing his outside shoes away into the closet, returning from an uneventful day at his office. You usually got home before him, but this was the first time you’ve waited for him at the front door. He notes that you seem to be holding something behind your back. 

“Here.” Bring your arms out from your back, the distinct crinkling of plastic was heard.

Teal eyes study the gift basket filled with bath products, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion all nicely packaged with a satin ribbon. 

“It’s to thank you for helping me with errands lately,” you explain. 

Recently, you’ve been asking him to accompany you to the cluttered streets lined with stalls and haggling merchants. With his towering frame and larger hands, he could carry heavier bags and part a path through the pushy crowds easier. You were using your resources to maximize efficiency. 

“There’s no need to trouble yourself with this, I’m just doing my part. But thank you.” He takes the basket from your hands, eyes remaining collected. 

Just as the basket leaves your hands, the distinct chime of your phone goes off as ‘Bahram’ flashes across the screen. The name of your boss. 

“Excuse me, I have to take this call. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Turning away, you walk toward the kitchen. 

The he hums in response, slipping into his inside shoes. With brisk steps, he covers the distance from the front door to his room, closing then leaning against the solid oak.

Sharply inhaling as one hand balancing the basket of toiletries and the other holding his head. 

You’ve always prefer to maintain the serenity of the house. Resolving strife with proactive actions or brief comments. Not once in these past five years did you ever nag him, you’re too pragmatic for that. At times it’s a curse more than a blessing, evidenced by the gift basket staring back at him mockingly. 

Although Alhaitham was messy at times, he knows the importance of hygiene. Teeth brushed twice a day, a shower taken every day before dinner, and deodorant applied daily.

However, the temperatures this Summer were at record highs, even for Sumeru. The packed market streets pushing the two of you closer than usual, perhaps he’s no match for the heat this time. 

Washing his hair twice and his body thrice, Alhaitham finishes his prolonged shower by gurgling some mouthwash for good measure. Walking into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his hair still damp. The table set with potato boat and some steak. Impassive eyes met inscrutable eyes as you motion for him to take a seat.

Your nose remained relaxed, meaning you were probably satisfied with his efforts. 

Alhaitham makes a silent reminder to research some cologne after he finishes washing the dishes. One that isn’t overbearing nor too weak to linger. 

How embarrassing it is, five years in and the stoic prodigy known as Alhaitham is still testing the bounds of his wife’s patience. Selfish experiments and habits he can’t seem to correct conflicting with your wishes for a clean, serene, and quiet home. 

The entire reason why you bothered signing your name next to a stone-faced man who said ‘I don’t believe in soulmates’ before asking ‘How are you?’.

  

Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.

You weren’t oblivious to the sentiment behind these arbitrary actions. In a way, it was expected. A husband wants to get closer to his wife, it’s simple chemistry.

The human mind craves connection, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin released at the sight of gifted blooms, crafted sweets, and from simply sitting within each other's presence.

A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on. 

Alhaitham isn’t immune to it and neither are you. Even if you were able to stiffen your lips, steady your gaze, and hide those flushed cheeks. Nothing you did could quell the abnormality in your chest, was Alhaitham having the same issue?

There comes the first hurdle, the unknown which hung in the air formed over years of peaceful silence. The thought of two stoic faces peering into each other’s eyes as two monotonous voices stated the obvious would make any romantic keel over and die.

It’d be too embarrassing, especially when it’s already been awkward. 

Headache caused by sickly sweet blossoms, spitting out pricey sweets, and dulled reaction to a critically acclaimed film. None of this was Alhaitham’s fault, how can you blame someone for something they don’t know?

He never asked, you never told.

No one knew what happened within that noisy house with empty bottle-covered floors of two ‘soulmates’ who refused to release their crushing grips. All except the three unfortunate souls trapped within its Padisarah-scented walls. 

Still, his keen eyes didn’t miss those details, reassessing his actions before ultimately channeling more of his energy into chores around the house instead of frivolous gifts. What a proactive husband. 

A sting of guilt felt as you recall his sincere attempts at trying to cross an icy bridge. What should you say? ‘Thank you, you tried.’ Sounded far too condescending, it could even lead to a huffy fight. Something you’ve been good at avoiding these past five years. 

Marriage is filled with compromises, meeting each other halfway along the road of life, side by side. So you tried this time.

Curiosity guiding you as it did a naive hero towards the brilliance of a red star. 

———————————————————————————

Your first attempt was inspired by an article that popped up on your phone’s feed, something about wearing your partner’s shirt to make them flush, nonsense known as the ‘boyfriend shirt’.

You still gave it a try. Swiping up one of your husband’s black button-downs one Saturday night, only building up the confidence to put it on the next morning. 

Your original plan was to just casually wear it around the house as you got the Sunday morning chores done, but that got thrown out when Alhaitham suddenly opened your door when one-third of the buttons were still undone.

A moment of tense silence followed, impressively you managed to maintain a cool facade. Grasping the opportunity to leave this stale silence with an expertly crafted response. 

———————————————————————————

In the end, he just wanted his shirt back. So for your next attempt, you toned it down, no longer taking advice from nonsensical articles. 

Recently, Alhaitham has taken more of an interest in your bookshelf. More of the once pristine edges of your books folder here and there. If it was anyone else, you’d make them buy you a new copy immediately, but for now, you simply smoothed out the paper.

If he wants to read the theories and studies that muse you, why don’t you read them together?

However, two bodies pressed together on a sofa trying to read the small print along pages at the same time is simply uncomfortable. Plus, Alhaitham reads much faster than you. 

To ensure a pleasant reading experience for both of you, two copies were the best solution. 

He read it after you. 

———————————————————————————

Your next attempts used thinly veiled excuses to get Alhaitham to accompany you to the bustling markets of Sumeru City. In a way, trying to make up for that lackluster movie experience.

Only for it to soon turn into using Alhaitham to carry arm fulls of bags as he shielded you from the push and pull of the busy crowd. 

Perhaps you should stick to gift-giving, to spare your husband from working like a Sumpter Beast in this weather.

But besides books, what should you give him? He’s just like you, if he sees something he wants, he’d just buy it with his own money. 

On the way home from work, you caught sight of a shop, one which displayed handmade soaps and fancy lotions. Huh, Alhaitham often takes your lotions, maybe you should get him his own. A bell ringing overhead announces your entrance into the cozy store. 

“Welcome!” A bright voice chirped as a shop assistant with vibrant red hair and an equally vibrant smile bounded toward you. 

“I’m Nilou, how may I help you today?”

“I’m just looking for some lotion.” You politely responded, trying to ignore the faint fragrance of Pardisarahs. 

“We’ve got plenty of hand-made ones, for you or for someone else?”

“For my husband.”

“Oh? What does he like?”

You paused for a moment, lips pressed together in contemplation before deciding. 

“Something fresh and not overbearing, nothing made from Pardisarahs.” If he liked using your lotions, then he must have the same scent preferences. 

“We just got this new lotion that fits the criteria! Oh! But it pairs very well with this body wash… actually this shampoo and conditioner set is also a good fit. Oh! What if we bundle them?”

What was supposed to be a simple lotion turned into you leaving the small shop with an entire gift basket. A sigh leaves your lips, looks like you’re not as immune to sales tactics as you originally thought. 

That night you handed the ribbon-wrapped basket to Alhaitham. Even if he isn’t interested in expensive handcrafted soaps, he’ll still use them out of necessity, they were a gift after all.

However, it doesn’t seem you had to worry about that. He used up the fancy soaps and lotions. 

The opulent scent lingering on his skin and towel-dried hair, looks like your gift made you discover a new side of your husband.

He enjoys really long showers, evidenced by your rising water bills. 

Still, the vast expanse of uncertainty didn’t shrink, not even one bit. Just like the distance between an outstretched hand toward the sun. 

Books, lotions, and walks through a market, looks like it was all for naught. 

The mutual agreement to not lock eyes, these cold halls, these awkward dinners filled with nothing but the clattering of silverware and plates. Where have you seen these patterns before?

Oh, you’ve seen these in your childhood home. 

Ah, was this a curse passed on to you? What an awful wedding gift from uninvited parents to a courthouse office. 

Clutching the straps of your bag tighter, your legs quicken their pace, wanting to get out of the crowded streets filled with the mumbles and pushes of people freshly off the clock.

With each stranger knocking into your shoulder another drop is added to a bottle. White knuckles gripping on your straps as a pressure rises within the bottle’s glass body, threatening to shatter it.

You can’t let this continue, the mounting pressure will sooner or later detonate into a hideous mess. Best to avoid that scenarios. Eyes catching sight of a small reprieve from the crowd, you direct yourself there.

 The small store front provides you with some shelter for your lungs to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pressure subsides just a bit. There’s still room in there, you can suppress a little more, you can endure a little longer. 

Eyelids fluttering open, you recognized the name of the shop. It’s the fancy soap shop, one with the vivacious sales assistant.

Peering through the glass you searched for that brilliant shade of crimson. And you found it, right next to glimmering silver hair. It’s like your body forgot how to breathe. 

From the rumbling of the late evening rush, all you could do was read their lips from behind a thick glass door.

Petite pink lips giggling behind clasped hands as Nilou looks up at Alhaitham, tilting her head to the side as if she asked him a question. His lips remained stiff, but teal gaze reflected crimson as they softened. Something you never witnessed within the quiet walls of your home. 

Looks like you found the cause of the rising water bills, perhaps Alhaitham likes the smell of Padisarahs. 

Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore. 

It wasn’t an Earth-shattering catastrophic event, no tidal waves crashing down, no flood flood devastating everything in its path. Only a defeated ‘pop’ and its pathetic echo as your bottle finally overflowed.

Bitter sea-foam fizzled out as it made an unseen mess. 

Listlessly, you rejoined the rolling crowd, letting the eb and flow of its movement carry you all the way to the front door of a false haven. Systematically inserting the key, placing your shoes into the closet, and shutting your room door behind your back. Staring at the clean floor with its intricate wood grain. 

However, your mind weren’t processing any of it, busy with its calculations.

When did his fever start? That one Autumn night with a chaste bouquet. What day is it now? The cusp of Summer. How long has it been? In a few months, it’ll be three years.

A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.

————————

“Hey, kiddo.” 

Slurred words made you stop in your tracks, small hands tightening their grip on your backpack straps.

You weren’t quiet enough, the careful steps of your feet were rendered useless when it came to the creaky wooden floors of this house. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t want to breathe in the stench which permeated this air. 

The aroma of cheap perfume, sour wine, and cheap beer. The source of this foul smell? The freshly awakened man laying on the couch just a few inches away: a man known as your father.

Still trying to reserve your stored supply of oxygen, all you offered the drunkard was a firm hum. Not that he’d care, judging from the crushed cans and empty bottles littering the path, he’s probably too far gone. 

“Did you know love is a chemical? Something called ‘phenylethylamine’?” A hiccup interrupts his sentence, but he continues, much to your dismay. 

“Haha, it makes your heart beat faster and your cheeks flush because it’s considered an amphetamine, one of the most powerful drugs.” His stumbling hand blindly reached for another can, knocking over empty shells until it found one with just a bit of liquor. 

“Too bad the high can only last three years.”

Your disinterested gaze trailed off down the empty hall, legs itching to break away from the lecture you’ve heard numerous times before. Lungs begging to inhale the untainted air of your room, the only sanctuary this hollow home held.

Just a few minutes was all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors. 

A clink of aluminum hitting the wooden boards draws your attention back to your father who had finished moisturizing his throat with another swig of beer. 

“Stay away from that drug, kiddo” A sloppy grin stretched across his face as he stared up at a blank ceiling. 

The sight made your arms bristle, seeing a smile on your father’s face was uncanny. Something you’ve never seen at the dinner table, just silent scowls and disgruntled glares constantly exchanged over a subpar meal. 

Wanting him to finish this one-sided conversation, you gave another firm hum, every now and then glazing back toward the hall. 

“Or you’ll end up like this old man.” He wraps the conversation up with a bitter laugh, one which resonated off the blank walls. 

————————

Maybe you should’ve heeded your father’s words. A brilliant scholar to the public but a pathetic drunk when within the confines of a cluttered, noisy house is still a brilliant scholar. 

This was your punishment for straying away from your beliefs. You reached your hand out towards the fire despite knowing it’d  hurt, and you fell in love. Now look at where you are. 

How utterly laughable, you, the ever-bright Ms. Perfect, who’s broken love down to its base form of chemical compounds, fell victim to the addiction that was love.

So blindsided by it.

The fog of love is slowly running its course through him. Once the trees abandon their vibrant greens for shriveled browns in the Autumn, his fever will be over. There’s no such thing as an endless Summer.

How did you not see this coming? Covering your eyes with ignorant hands, blatantly ignoring the signs right in front of your nose.

No more flowers, no more chocolates, and no more movies. 

Turning back around, you took note of a figure in a floor length mirror. Indifferent gaze identical to how your husband looks at you.

Two sides of the same mirror, what’s what you and him are. What’s the use of that? Shiny surfaces point off in opposite directions, yet only ever reflecting one view. What’s the point of having two sides then?

You don’t intrigue him, you can’t show him his blind spots, and you can’t reflect to him a view he’s never seen. Same perceptions, same hobbies, same expressionless faces, how stale it must be. 

It’s much more interesting to have a wife who’ll smile at receiving flowers, a wife whose eyes light up at chocolate, and a wife who’d blabber on about a movie as Alhaitham listens intently. The beating of his heart is starting with someone new.

Emerging out of your thoughts, you stare directly at the person in your mirror.

Dull eyes stared right back, light dimmed from years of staring at a bright star grasping at its warm rays in substitution of a cold house, only for your fingers to slip pass right through.

Idiotic girl, you can’t touch the sun, not even Icarus did. 

An unlovable child grew into an unlovable adult. Add that to your footnote, so you’ll never forget this lesson again. The fool in the mirror finally looks away. 

It didn’t matter if Icarus smiled or laughed as he tumbled from the sky. Silly girl, did you forget what happens in the end of that tale? He drowned alone. 

Drowning isn’t like what the movies show. The thrashing of limbs against cold waves, the garbled screams under the water, all accompanied by the ominous soundtrack crafted by a sound master. It’s all dramatized for the silver screen. 

Muscles pushing through the cold exhaustion, mouth agape but prioritizing large and fast gulps of oxygen over cries for help, followed by the melodic lull of water lapping over eardrums until the head disappears under its surface. Never to breach it again. 

It’s possible for a person to drown in a pool full of people. Just like how it was possible for you to feel alone despite having your husband just across the lacquered expanse of the dinner table. Forks and knives clacking porcelain plates.

It’s a silent death. 

For once you’re grateful to attend a nugatory dinner hosted by your company. Venue filled with superficial smiles and handshakes all over food served on sliver platters. Even if the heels are killing you, you’d rather not wallow in a quiet house.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, catching someone’s attention. 

“What a heavy sigh, here have some wine to ease the burden.” A glass filled with fragrant wine was held out in front of you. 

Your eyes travel up the hand which offers the vile beverage to you, sights landing on the face of your boss, Bahram. Pushy as always, always testing the limits of your loyalty to a nice pension and dental insurance.

As always you politely push the glass away, uttering a firm “no thank you.”

“Oh c’mom Ms. Perfect, you look like you could use a drink.” He pushes the glass closer. 

 Stares from all around the formal dinner table hone in, the weight heavy on your shoulders. Stakeholders and coworkers turn away from their shallow conversations to watch the brewing spectacle just across the table.

That’s right, you have to be professional, where was your crafted mask? Make use of all those years observing the masters of deception you knew as your parents. 

So you accept the vile glass.

Before the aroma could register on your palate, you emptied the whole glass. Not a single drip escaped past your lips. It took all your strength to no scowl at the sweetly bitter and alcoholic flavor. 

“Oh? Ms. Perfect is drinking tonight?” Some nameless coworker mused. 

Ah, the name lightly tossed around at the office with oblivious chuckles and ignorant smiles. You despise being called that, but not as much as you despise being told ‘you’re just like your father’ and ‘you’re acting like your mother’.

Better to be Ms. Perfect, so disgruntled ‘soulmates’ can’t compare you to their flawed counterpart.

“Do you like this wine? Have some more.” Eagerly, your boss fills the glass once more. 

Staring at the beckoning liquid swirling in the glimmering cup, as the weight of those stares force your hands to accept it once more. 

Maybe you should’ve just stayed home. 

“I should really be trying to sell you our products but… I think you’ll find a better gift at another store. Here, I’ll write the address down for you! They have the best jewels, I’m sure you’ll find something for your wife there!” Hastily the shop assistant scribbles on a notepad before pushing the slip into his palm. 

“Just don’t tell my manager.” Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, signaling to him to keep a secret. 

Alhaitham simply nods, examining the address in his hands. He hasn’t tried jewelry yet, but a ring would look nice on your hand. Maybe you’d think so too.

“You really love her, don’t you mister?” Nilou notes how attentively his hands smooth over the address. 

Pausing for a moment, Alhaitham envisions the softness of your cheeks shifting as that tender smile spreads across your lips. Yours eyes reflecting the light off the polished and cut gem as he slips it onto your bare finger. 

“I do.” Unable to stop the softening of his gaze. 

———————————————————————————

A ring still left in its miserable black box, stowed away in the depths of a drawer. A sigh slips out of him just like how he let another opportunity to place the jewel on your finger pass. You’re attending a company dinner tonight, a rare occasion requiring you to dress up.

The dress draped over your figure and curves just right and highlighted the contours of your body. He wanted to tell you this earlier as you were leaving, too bad he was occupied with swallowing ‘stay home’. 

There’s an annoying itch in the deepest depths of his mind. Covetous hands crawled up his spine, they tried to convince his own fingers to grasp around your wrist and pull you back into the house.

Alhaitham shakes that itch away, refocusing his attention onto your bookshelf in front of him.

You have a life and responsibilities outside these walls, he can’t overstep the boundary to block you from your individuality. Running a finger along the tops of the neatly lined books, searching for something to redirect his impulses.

Momentum halting when his finger sunk into pages when he expected the firm edge of a spine. The force crumpling the paper, immediately he pulls it into his hands, smoothing out the folded edges. Title catching his attention. 

The Lifespan of Love, the only book where the spine wasn’t facing out. Flipping it to the back, Alhaitham scans the blurb, noting the portrait of the scholar who authored it.

A familiar face, a professor who’s lectures he barely attended. A distinguished researcher and mentor in the eyes of his old university.

The sight of his face made Alhaitham recall a scene he once witnessed. 

————————

The halls of the Psychology department were desolate, as they always were. A much-appreciated reprieve from crowded foyers as a quiet student walks to his next exam in the department next door. 

Just as his hand reached up to activate his headphones, two voices caught his attention, the high shrills of a woman and the raspy shouts of a man leaking out from an office door left ajar.

It has nothing to do with him, Alhaitham know this, but he still had 30 minutes to kill before the exam.

Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.

A man the student recongizes, but the scowl and flush of rage twisted his face into an unrecongizable mess. The professor juts his finger towards the woman as foul names left his mouth, the same mouth which lectured the brightest minds of Sumeru. 

The woman screams back equally loathsome words, tears leaving mascara trails down her red cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs a lamp off his desk and hurls it to the floor. 

For a brief moment, the scholar pauses as his eyes scanned over the broken debris scattered along the floor. Then his fist slammed into the solid oak of his desk, thud so forceful the office ratted with the poor furniture.

His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute. 

Alhaitham backs away from the door, turning on his noise-canceling headphones. He’s satisfied his curiosity enough, walking off to his exam. 

————————

A peculiar sight behind the superficial mask of a respected professor with his jolly grin and light hearted jokes with students. Inspecting the name printed just underneath the portrait, a furrow forms between his brow as he scrutinizes the spelling closer.

The professor’s last name was spelled the same way as yours. 

Oh. So this is the source you were citing back then. Numbers and figures published by a notable name backing your rebuttal to the societal notion of a soulmate. Inquisiveness rearing its impatient nose, inciting his hands to choose this book as his subject tonight.

You never told him, so he never asked. This was a chance to peer into a view sealed behind your closed lips.  

To study, dissect, and analyze the resources which congergated together to form the you of today. Alhaitham isn’t going to deny such an opportunity.

Teal eyes glance at the ticking hands of a clock, he’s got a good few hours of reading before you return.

The distinct rumble of an engine leaking in through the living room window interrupts his peace, the slam of car doors causing Alhaitham to promptly fold over the corner of the page he has yet to finish.

The dinner must have ended.

Getting up from a cushy couch, Alhaitham makes his way toward the entranceway.

His keen ears picking up the unmistakable hearty chuckle of a man, Alhaitham stills for a brief second before continuing to the door. 

Before the chime of the doorbell had the chance to sound throughout the home, Alhaitham already pried open the front door.

Teal gaze darkening as they examine the display on the front steps. 

Your arm around the shoulder of another man while his arm was snaked around your waist, pressing your body against his as he supports you up the steps.

The sound of the hinges directs the man’s attention to the homeowner currently staring at him, oblivious to the way Alhaitham’s grip threatens to crush a metal handle behind solid oak. 

“Oh! You must be Ms. Perfect’s husband. I’m Bahram.” The man greeted.

Alhaitham already knows him. He’s seen that name flash up enough times across your phone. He’s seen you pick up no matter the hour and step out into an empty room.

A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.

“Haha! She drank a bit too much tonight.” The jovial man continues, his hand still resting on your hip.

Drank? You drank? You don’t so much as glance at Alhaitham’s wine cabinet at home, yet you drank with this man? The begins of scowl start to set into Alhaitham’s face. 

“I’ll bring her inside for ya.” Bahram takes a step forward only to be blocked by a towering frame topped with ashen hair. 

“I’ll take it from here.” Alhaitham barely bit back a pointed tone, forcibly smoothing it over to make his voice pass as neutral. 

Prying that hand off your hip and your arm from Bahram’s neck, Alhaitham’s strong hold supports your slumping figure against his own body.

Pulling you across the threshold of the front door, finally putting some distance between you and that damn boss of yours. 

“Have a goodnight.” Venomous lie rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he firmly shuts the oak door, not bothering with any more pleasantries. 

It didn’t take much effort to carry you into the living room. Setting you down on the sofa then kneeling down with dexterous fingers, Alhaitham freed your feet from the chokehold of those heels.

You make a mental note to throw them out tomorrow morning. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out, relieved to finally be home. 

Your husband doesn’t respond as he walk away to place your shoes into the closet. The lingering taste of wine churns your stomach, you needed some water to wash it out.

Carefully, you amble into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with fresh water. Praying it can finally rid you of that foul flavor. 

After three glasses of wine, your stakeholders and coworkers finally turned their attention elsewhere. You’ve entertained them enough.

Granting you the freedom to push away anymore glasses your boss offered, only getting him to stop after you agreed to his offer of driving you home.

What a troublesome night, your mood sourer than it has been for the past few months. 

As you fill up your glass again your ears catch the pattering of Alhaitham’s steps as he trails into the kitchen, stopping only a few paces away watching you glup down your second glass. 

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” His husky voice resounds from behind you as his finger taps against the marble countertop. 

“No.” You fill rinse out the cup, the stubborn grip of wine not releasing your tastebuds just yet. 

“Oh? It sure looks like you did.” 

Your body stiffens as your turn the faucet off, glancing over your shoulder with eyes narrowing. 

“What do you mean by that?” Your tone a bit more sharp than you’d like it to be. 

“I’m certain you know exactly what I mean.” Alhaitham stops his tapping as he lays his palm flat on the table, teal eyes boring straight into you. 

“Well, well looks like your assumption is wrong.” 

“I doubt it, stop mincing your words and just say you enjoyed a few drinks with your boss.” 

Your body turns around fully, glaring stare connecting with his teal one. Ticking of a clock sounding throughout the quiet kitchen.

So that’s why he’s behaving like this, partners with wandering eyes tend to project their hypocritical insecurities onto the other after all. 

“Then why don’t you say you’ve been enjoying your visits to Nilou?” Something more venomous than sour wine drips off your words. 

“How is she related to this conversation?” His eyes narrowing at you, unlike the same teal irises that reflected the scarlet of her hair. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” You spat his own words back at him, maneuvering around him as you make your way back to your room. 

At this point you weren’t sure what was the cause of the headache threatening to form.

The wine? This deafening silence? Or the thought of Padisarahs?

You don’t care, you want to go to bed. The thuds of his steps weren’t far behind yours as you trek through the halls.

“Our conversation hasn’t concluded.” His deep voice ringing in your ears. 

“Yes it has.” Your room was just in sight.

“No it hasn’t.” His hand encloses around your wrist.

There you were, halfway through the doorframe of your room with the pull of his hand preventing you from getting the rest you want.

There’s no longer any space left in a shattered bottle, just a rippling ocean getting rougher and rougher with each deep breath. 

“Can’t you be honest?” His ironic, paradoxical words causes the tide to crush against each other. 

“Can’t you be honest? Do you think I wouldn’t notice your showers right as you come back from ‘work’? You’ve been driving the water bill up with your cover-up efforts.” Glaring right into those damn beryl eyes, frown breaking your stiff lips. 

“Cover-up? What a bold accusation coming from the same person who awaits a call everynight.” He mirrors your scowl. 

“Maybe its because work offers better company than this stifling house.” 

Alhaitham grip tightens on your wrist as his lips press into a firm line, indecipherable stare weighing down upon your frame. His broad shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. 

“Strip,” he commands.

“Have you gone mad?” You snap back, unable to budge in his hold. 

“Yes, furious even.” 

It didn’t take much effort for him to make his way into your room, pulling you in as well. You could barely keep up with it all, glaring at him but it didn’t affect him one bit.

The movement causes your dress to shift. Glancing down you realize a strap of your dress slipped off, leaving one side of your breast dangerously exposed. 

With swift strides, he arrives at the edge of your bed. It’s rare for you to dawn such attire, applying a lovely shade of crimson to those plush lips, and tying your hair up so nicely. Did you get all dressed up for Bahram? Why couldn’t it be for his viewing only? 

Tsk, noisy nonsense is cluttering his mind, those the claws of a green-eyes monster digging into his last shred of restraint. Seizing his rationality in its ugly, greedy hands tighter and tighter the longer your soft thighs pressed against his tense body.

Crashing into those crimson lips of yours, one hand positioning your face to allow his tongue to catch yours by surprise. Letting the two muscles dance together as his other hand explored the expanse of your body, pulling up the silky fabric to grant his palm the pleasure of gracing your soft thighs. 

‘Oh, so this is what he wants,’ you thought as your lips moved against his.

‘Fine, might as well experience what he’s been doing behind your back.’ The fingers of your free hand tangling themselves into his hair, tugging at ashen locks with disregard. 

Unfortunately, the pesky need for oxygen made Alhaitham release your lips. Chest panting as his darkened gaze observed the state of your lips. Crimson smeared over the corner of your glossy lips. You put so much effort into painting them, making sure they were nicely defined. 

However, it felt so cathartic to know that he’s the one who messed them up, no one at the party saw them like this. Only him. 

“I’ll ask you one last time, strip now.” Not letting go of your face. 

“Go to hell,” you spat out. 

And the last chain broke, dignity and self-control reduced to nothing more than ash as his hunger commanded him. Go to hell you say?

“Then I’ll take you with me,” he sneers through clenched teeth, pushing you into the mattress face down. One hand restraining those disobedient hands of yours behind your back.

Before protest could leave your lips a rip resounds through the hot air.  Alhaitham knows he should be delicate with it. That he should carefully pull the zipper down your back, letting the fabric naturally drape off your frame.

 However, a man who starved for six years now knows nothing about patience. 

You feel the silky fabric slip off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Teal eyes honing in on the darkened patch on the thin fabric, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

“Wet just from this? Or were you wet during dinner too?” He pulls the fickle fabric off. 

You wiggle in his hold, face flushed with frustrated embarrassment at your current predicament. However, in terms of strength you’ll always lose to Alhaitham. A violent flinch jolts your body as he runs a finger runs along your glistening slit. 

“What a lewd thing, has he seen this slutty hole of yours?” Alhaitham watches the way your cunt quivers with each stroke of his digit. 

“Do really you think I’d sleep with my boss?” Your voice slightly muffled by the sheets as you turn your face to the side. 

“I need to confirm it.”

With two fingers, he spreads your soft pussy lips apart, keen eyes observing the trail of slick starting to drip down from between them. He sees the muscles of your entrance clenching around nothing, he glides a digit in, feeling your slick walls clamp around it. Clear essence drooling out. He hums in satisfaction before sliding his finger out, you bite into the sheet to silence any sounds. 

“Enjoying this?” He muses, fingers spreading your cunt again. 

You don’t respond, but the glare you’re sending his way makes his lip curl into a smirk. For once he could read the emotions behind your stoic eyes, he wants to see more.

Trailing his fingers up your slit until they bump into a hard nub making your body twitch. Softly pinching your clit between two fingers, he slowly rolls the senesitve bundle of nerves as you bite harder to stop your moans. 

Cunt slick but unstretched, clit throbbing but not swollen, only your essence coating his fingers. Looks Bahram hasn’t gotten the chance to taste you yet.

Calming the thrashing of a green-eyed beast just slightly. However, this wasn’t enough. Alhaitham feels the parchedness of his throat as his eyes scan over your glistening slit.  

Alhaitham once believed that the touches exchanged when his fingers brush against yours while passing plates, when you pull a blanket up his napping frame, or when your bodies briefly pressed against each other as he helps you hang the laundry out was enough to satisfy him. That he could sustain off just borrowing your lotions. 

Such a false assumption, a foolish one even. As the heat radiating off your body melts away another restraint he imposed on himself. Alhaitham realizes just how much he’s been starving himself. 

Thumb rubbing firm circles into your clit, the pleasure making your legs close together, trying to shut him out but the grip of his hand stops your attempt. 

“Tsk, stay still.” His strength pinning your legs apart, showing you just how ‘feeble’ he was. 

In retaliation, he pushes your legs further apart. Exposing more of yourself to him, it was embarrassing enough to almost make your lust-hazed mind care.

Thick fingers gathered up drops of slick leaking out from your dripping cunt as your lewd hole unable to contain its greed. Allowing him more access, feeding into his greed further.

Two fingers tracing the rim of your entrance before it slowly pushes through. Instantly, your gummy walls clamped down on his fingers, making him hiss through clenched teeth.

“If you’re grasping my fingers this much, how will you take something larger?” His breath ghosting over your cunt. 

Your toes curled in the air as a kiss was pressed against your throbbing clit, almost enough to let a gasp escape you. Biting back a drawn out moan as his tongue traced your leaking slit, starting with your sensitive numb then traveling up to lap at the essence escaping your stretched hole with the smooth muscle then back to flick at your clit.

You never realized just how pent up your body was until whines and moans just fell from your lips like water. Turning your head away, pressing your face into the mattress in hopes it’d catch those sinful sounds. 

“Tsk.” Alhaitham escalated the pace of his fingers. 

A sharp slap against your puffy clit, shooting white-hot pleasure up your core. With a gasp you pulled away from the sheets, unable to stop the moan which tumbled out. Hastily, you tried to muffle your voice again, only for a warning squeeze on your still pinned wrist stopping you.

You’ve enjoyed your silence, he’s been deprived of those sultry moans, so for tonight let him enjoy them to the fullest extent. 

Your back arched, hips bucking in the air. Your little pussy finally rewarded his hard work with a rush of slick soaked the sheets and his face further. Swiftly removing his fingers again with a disgraceful squelch, only for his tongue to dip into the cavern they left. He slurped and lapped up every drop of your nectar, quenching a thirst he never knew he had. 

Overstimulated clit trying to flinch away from each nerve-frying lick while your weeping walls beckoned his tongue to go deeper. The tightness in his pants was painful now, engorged tip rubbing against the fabric and soaking it in precum.

With his unyielding hold, his half-lidded eyes, and his unrelenting tongue lapping up all of your essence while bullying your poor nub, you were powerless. Unable to hide from his hungry gaze, nails digging into his unflinching hand, and chest heaving with the mounting pleasure in your core.

Scowl long replaced by a loose expression, the pleasure ripping through every fiber of your being. Shooting up from your curled toes to the eyes seeing only the back of your head, the edge growing closer and closer-

Alhaitham pulls away, your slick dripping down his chin glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room. Cruelly pulling back from the edge before you could taste true euphoria. No, he doesn’t think you deserve it yet. Flipping your body effortless on your back, wrists now pinned above your head.

His teal eyes drank the sight of your breast bouncing with each pant, puffy cunt clenching desperately, and the glimmering tearful eyes rivaling the stars themselves. A sight so sinful the devil is writhing in envy. 

“What the fuck?!” You thrashed in his hold again, mourning the lost of the orgasm your body was denied. 

“With this attitude, you should be grateful for what you got. I’m tired of waiting.” Alhaitham sneers next to your ear, chest pressed against yours before his warmth pulls away. 

Tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs with a hand still coated in your nectar, trailing kisses and red splotches in the valley of your breast as his precum and your slick mixed with each stroke of his shaft. The wet sounds even reached your ears.

Making the mistake of looking down, your eyes widened as they comprehended his length and girth. Your restless pussy twitching but your legs closing as to preserve the last of your ego. Something thick pressed against your dripping pussy making your hole quiver and legs freeze as his tip threatens breach your entrance.

“Trying to be coy now? When you were moaning like a whore mere minutes ago.” Smug teal eyes peering down at you. 

Another frown breaks onto your face at his pointed words. Your tongue is just as sharp, best to remind him of that fact.

“What a practiced line, you say the same things to her as well?” A mocking smile curling your lip as a scowl tugs down at his.

Too self-satisfied with your small victory to notice his large hand gripping onto your hips, aligning himself with you. With a sinful squelch, Alhaitham snaps his cock fully in. Your lips thrown open with a gasp as your back arches off the mattress.

“I. Never. Had. An. Affair. So, instead of spewing out anymore nonsense, why don’t you just moan instead?” Puncuating each word with thrust of his hips, feeling the vibration of each syllable in his chest pinned against yours. 

Jagged words ready at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t form a single sentence. With a broken moan your back slowly descended back onto the sheets.

Tearing a hiss from his clenched teeth and a breathless moan from you, gummy walls contracting down tighter and tighter with each girthy inch pushed as his balls slap against the slick down your ass. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Alhaitham stays there, tip pressed against the deepest part of you, a furrow between his brows.

Alhaitham knows he should be gentle. He knows he should allow your walls to grow accustomed to his girth by slowly rolling his hips against yours. 

However, you just won’t stay still. Mewling and whining against his frame, nails clawing at his hand as your legs fluttered in the air. Each movement makes your pussy slurp around his stiff cock, lapping at the girth as if trying to pull him deeper than he already was. 

Tempting his hunger like a lunatic testing a starved beast, it’ll only be so long before the hunger bends the iron bars containing it and devours you. 

“AH!” A sharp slap of his hips rips a moan from your lips. 

Alhaitham pulls you off his cock until the tip threatens to slip out, then thrusts it all back in one fluid motion. Instinctively your teeth clamps down on your disobedient lips, desperately trying to bite back those lewd noises. The slurping of your greed welcoming him over and over was embarrassing enough. 

What a selfish move, trying to deprive him once more of your pretty moans. Provoking that ugly appetite within the pits of his stomach again. If you won’t behave, Alhaitham decides to fuck the stubborness out of you. 

Each thrust of his hips into yours rocking the sturdy bed, bullying your poor sensitive pussy still recovering from a ruined orgasm. Hands and hips held within bruising grips. The pitched gasps every time he railed into a certain spot didn’t escape his keen ears, his hips now angled to bully that spot with each thrust.

How helpless you were to the devastating rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. Unable to ground yourself on anything, your last wisps of sanity swept away by the waves of pleasure. 

A groan reverberates deep in Alhaitham’s chest, the sudden convulsions of your slick walls trying to milk him. It was almost impossible to move with the way your pussy just kept clamping down.

Unfortunately, his hips couldn’t seem to care, operating solely on selfish desire.

Fortunately, a fresh wave of arousal aided in his rhythm, relentless slams bouncing your body and bed. 

Strength long leaving your arms Alhaitham releases his hold on them in favor of supporting your limp hips, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as lust-hazed eyes honed in on the frothy white ring forming on his shaft.

All your lips could do was babble out nothings as the headboard continued to beat the poor wall. Cunt thanking his cock with a contraction every time his tip knocks against your weakness. 

The sweet moans caressing his ears, the filthy slaps echoing through the room, and your walls pulling him deeper and deeper, Alhaitham was at his limit.

There was nothing separating you two, he had enough sense left to know that. Reeling in the reins of his greed, he pulls back, fingers digging deeper into your plush skin. Well, he tried to pull back, but your locked ankles behind his back foiled this plan. 

He felt so hefty in you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his girth and length tore apart your sensibility. Something deep inside your cunt pleaded to be fed, to be filled, pushing your limp legs to lock ankles.

He feels a bit too far for your liking, blindly your hands groped at his body. Finally, reaching his face, cupping it roughly, you crash his lips down onto yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue still, but you couldn’t care less.

As your tongues tangled together, Alhaitham reached his limit. Pressing his thick tip as deep as it’d go, thick ropes of cum start to coat your walls with each twitch of his cock. His shaky moans swallowed up by your kiss.

The slurping of your pussy milking his still throbbing cock only prolonged his hunger. 

Dropping his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, he relishes in what he’s been depriving himself of. Feeling the faint shiver of your neck against his face.

Something was fogging up his mind, Autumn breeze doing nothing to quell the heat burning him.

–

“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!” 

The first rays of dawn breaking through the navy sky, the light so flushed by the scene it witnessed, it’s pink hue illuminated skin into the room heavy with lust and the slap of wet skin. 

“N-no more… too m-Ah!-much-ch.” Intoxicated brain sputtering out broken sentences. 

 It really was too much, you’ve cum too much to bother remembering, from the creamy drops dripping onto the soaked sheets, he’s also cummed too much.

Pussy overflowing and spasming with each thrust pushing more milky seed out.

Cock rubbing its red tip rawer with each quiver of your gooey walls. 

Six years of starvation will make any man forget gluttony is a sin.

“Too much? No More?” A husky pant between each word as Alhaitham continues with his punishing rhythm. 

“If that’s the case… then why is your pussy refusing to let me go?” His chest pressed against your back, caging you further as his breath tickles your ear. 

Unable to form a sentence anymore, your head pathetically shook side to side, stubbornly denying the obvious. Looks like he hasn’t fucked out of you yet, better change that. Large fingers digging further down on bruised hips, as the pistoning of his thrusts escalated.

Bed frame pushed to its limits.

Each smack of his hips against your limp body further drowning your pride out in a flood of dopamine. It’s mounting again, that familiar pressure building up in your core, making your toes curl in painful arches.

There’s a sudden flick at your swollen clit, walls flinching as his fingers encircles around the abused nub. 

“Who’s making you feel this way?” His husky voice too close to your ear.

Groundless pride preventing you from unsealing you lips, refusing to feed into his ego anymore than your wanton moans already did. 

“Who are you showing this shameful face to?” There’s an edge to his voice again, why must you be so stubborn?

Once more you refused to answer. Making Alhaitham’s jaw clench and his fingers roll your clit harsher, making your bruised hips thrash.  

“Who’s shape is engrained into this lewd body?” Voice dangerously low as he pushes his thick tip deeper against your beaten and painted walls, fingers never stopping their torment on your little nub. 

The edge was getting closer, you knew you’ll fall off it soon, you’ll dive head first into the euphoric sea of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin and drown.

“Ah-ah Al-mmh!” You try to collect your breath.

Alhaitham quickens his fingers on your clit, feeling your greedy cunt clamp down on him again, walls suckling his twitching tip as his balls tighten. He’s close, but he needs you to say what he’s been waiting to hear all night. 

“Alh-ah a-a…” Your hips shaking violently in his hold now. 

Lust-glazed eyes staring straight into equally hazed teal eyes. Shaky hands slowly weaving themselves into his damp ash locks, gently pulling his ear closer to your lips, your hoarse voice just barely audible.

“A bastard.” 

Self-satisfied smirk plastered over your loose face as your tear blurred vision catches the stunned expression on his handsome face. 

The heat of his touch, the chemical stirring in your brain, and the pleasure frying your nerves made a delirious smile grace smudged lips. Your sight so hazed by lust you couldn’t see where your smile was even directed to.

Alhaitham wanted to etch the sight of your debauch face, smeared makeup and glazed eyes rolled back, into his memories forever.

Too caught off guard by your response to remind his hand to stop its movement before it was already too late. Eyes seeing the back of your head, back arching under his frame, you fell back into the all consuming waves of pleasure. 

A hard earned victory in this veiled battle of two egos. Exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being. The pale pink of twilight dimming in your vision as the dark hands of sleep covers your eyes.

Somewhere in the middle of drifting off into a blank nothingness, you feel a hand tenderly guiding your head to rest on a soft pillow. 

Your eyelids twitch and brows furrow as the brightness of the room crept its way behind your shut eyes. Unable to retreat back into the dark embrace of sleep, you begrudgingly open your heavy lids.

Greeted by blurred shapes and fuzzy colors, you slowly blink your unfocused eyes. Gradually, the shapes and colors merge into distinguishable objects: a mug left on your bedside table with vapors rising from its rim. 

“It’s morning-after tea.” A husky voice followed by the distinct flip of paper tenses every muscle in your body. 

Alhaitham’s still here. You wish he wasn’t, you wish he’d realize last night was a mistake created from the clashing of egos, you wish the other side of your bed was empty.

So why did the tightness in your chest melt away with the mere sound of his voice?

You drag your sore body up from the sheets, shaky hands supporting the weight of numb legs and throbbing hips. Your sealed lips refusing to give him the satisfaction of any audible ques of your current state.

Sitting at the edge of your bed, back bare of anything but your hair draping over the marked skin facing him, you took the warm cup into your hands. 

A harmony of methodical sips and soft turns of pages fill the room, an open window washing away the haze of lust with an Autumn breeze. Just as the last bit of tea slides down your throat a gentle slap of a book snapping close brings an end to the heavy silence. 

“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces. 

Peering over your shoulder with a quirked brow, freezing as you recognize the book clutched in his hands. Not waiting for a response, he continues. 

“Anyone with eyes can see how his biases exude through each sentence. He only studied 15 couples, not an appropriate sample size for a world filled with millions of pairs. His experiments have yet to be replicated, it seems his status is what got this nonsense published.” He sets the book down. 

“What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Your theory of phenylethylamine having a shelf life is based on nonsense.” His eyes connect with yours with that familiar indifference. 

A frown twists your face, so he still wants to argue huh. Of course, what else did you expect? You and him have long gone down the bitter circular path you’ve seen travled before.

Irritation rising in your chest, like Alhaitham had jabbed his finger into a wound you’ve yet to heal. 

“Oh, then your theory must be the intrinsic truth, huh?” Words leaving an acidic aftertaste on your tongue. 

“I never-”

“Look at you, so correct with no data to support your vague mathematical thesis.” You cut him off, anger replacing the soreness of your legs. 

Cup knocking against a bedside table as your hand casts it to the side, getting off the bed you march into your closet, pulling a random shirt on without regard of your movements wrinkling the fabric.

You just needed to leave this room, just being by his side is making your blood pressure rise. Your bed creaks as Alhaitham gets up as well, but your back was already through the door. 

Two sets of steps trekking through the halls, paces mismatched as one tries to take quicker steps to counter the broader strides of the other. Alhaitham keeps pace with your escalating march. 

“It’s a critique of his research, not you,” he voices. 

You didn’t want to hear it, sharply pivoting into your home office, but you weren’t fast enough to stop Alhaitham from following you in.

Now a husband wants to spend time with his wife, where was this before? 

“It’s an experiment conducted at the Akademiya, how is that not reliable enough? You think you can do better?” Your body whipping around with a glare directed at him, your hideous ego showing its face again. 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you even believe in such a shallow analysis?” He mirrors your glare. 

“I’d rather believe in something with actual quantifiable numbers.” 

“Fine, you want quantifiable numbers? Care to calculate along with me? Or is your mind still recovering from last night?” Alhaitham folds his arms in front of his chest. 

“Go for it,” you say through gritted teeth, accepting his challenge, wanting to shush that snooty tone of his. 

“The Akasha bases its pairs off demographic, interest, and dispositions, all variables we can calculate,” he states. 

You straighten up your back, staring him in those teal eyes with your head held up high.

“Sumeru city is home to roughly 1 million people. Only 1/3 are around my age.” Alhaitham begins his trail.

“That brings that number down to about 333,333.” No delay in your response.

“Only 1 in 10 people have a personality I can tolerate, then suppose only 1 in 20 of those people can withstand mine.”

“ Rounding up that leaves about 1,667 candidates.” You tsk at his estimations, that number should be far greater than 20. 

 “Next comes shared interest, only 1 in 4 people have touched a physical book in the past year.” 

“417 left.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t think cheating you out of a childhood was enough, out of 417 people you had the misfortune of staring at his stony face. 

“Having to arrange 417 separate meetings at a small cafe would be much too burdensome for the Department of Human Relations. The scope needs to be narrowed further.” Alhaitham takes a step forward.

“Only 1 in 16 will have the patience to teach a grown man how to avoid wrinkles in his button downs.” Baritone voice losing its pointed edge. 

“26 left.”  You take a step back to preserve the space, hating how your skin craves the heat of his. 

“Only 1 in 8 of those people will allow me to borrow their books even when they know the edges of the paper will be creased when its returned.” He takes another step.

As you take another step backwards, the edge of your office desk prevents you from retreating further. The sensation of the cold wood distracting you momentarily from your calculations. 

“Then only 1 in 6 people will drape a blanket over a body that hogs an entire couch for a nap, placing a pillow under my head to ensure I don’t wake up with a sore neck.” Alhaitham doesn’t stop. 

Reaching an arm out, he firmly sets his palm on the expanse of your desk, caging you between the wood and the risk of your skin feeling the heat radiating off his body. 

“How many people are left now?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear.

“ 0.543,” You blurted out.

A deep furrow appears between your brows, something must’ve gone wrong in your calculation, it’s impossible to have half a person. In the context of the Akasha, one person, a whole person, is matched to another.

Once more your mind ran the numbers over again, then again, and then thrice trying to recompute the figures. 

Each time the same number came back: half a person. 

“Are you mocking me with those groundless fractions? Where did you even get those statistics from?” Your pointed gaze still directed at him, did he intentionally lead you down this illogical trail? 

“Logic is neither an art nor a science but a dodge.” He peers down at you, teal gaze back to its neutral state. 

“Ha! Says the man who places logic and rationality on a pedestal, what caused such a change, Alhaitham?” You laugh dryly, not bothering to decipher the most brainless qoute you ever heard him use. 

No change in his expression as his shoulders rise with a deep inhale, exhaling slowly as he leans his face in, his finger digging his palm against lacquered wood. 

“Instead of wasting time citing subpar research, you should’ve just been honest. Then maybe I’ll give you what you want and sign those damn papers you hid away in this desk.” Voice low but steady as his gaze never leaves your frame. 

It was a strange phenomenon, the chirping of the crickets had halted as two bodies remained unmoving, not even a single grain of dust dare move. If it weren’t for the faint ticking of a hallway clock, it would’ve seemed like time had stopped.

How long has he known about the divorce papers neatly stacked away a desk drawer?

Alhaitham slowly backs his body away from yours, hand returning to his side, freeing you from the cage it created. Teal eyes carefully observes your downcast stare and stiff shoulders as guilt suffocated him.

All the emotions he bottled up, all the fervor he held back, all the desires he swallowed down. It all came tumbling out, spilling out into a murky, repulsive mess. 

“Wife.” If he had spoken any louder than a breathy whisper, that word would’ve crumbled on his tongue. 

“I love you.” Alhaitham finally allows the words which have been clinging on his tongue for years now to fall out of his mouth. 

Every inch of you froze at those three words, the weight of his stare heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you really feel nothing from those words?” Baritone voice beckoning an answer from you. 

You don’t dare lift your head, gaze downcasted and frozen. Because you know you’ll have to stare at your reflection in his eyes. 

Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.

All these hormones and chemicals should’ve ran their course through your body. The haze should’ve faded and the abnormality of your chest should’ve corrected itself. It’s been three years at this point.

So, why is your chest aching?

The wood grain of the floor began to blur together as bitter tears compensated for the painful stinging of your irises. There it is, your brain finally short-circuits as the logic which once held up your sanity has crumbled away. 

Finally, you met his gaze, staring right at your reflection in teal irises. 

“It’s suffocating to be with you… it’s so lonely in this quiet house… it burns me like fire to touch you… yet… and y-yet see-”

“Seeing you leave will kill me, ” Alhaitham spoke the words just about to fall from the tip of your tongue.

The last piece of evidence that shattered the hypothesis he cultivated for all his life. If soulmates don’t exist, if the concept of an ‘other half’ doesn’t exist, then why is he feeling the same agony as you?

Looks like both theories were wrong in the end. Mathematics and chemistry unable to solve the enigma known as love. 

“I… I want to love… but I’m drowning… Alhaitham.” You were finally honest, you’ve been drowning all your life, thrashing hands searching for something to hold onto.

Would you be oh so kind enough to grab that pen just behind you and stab its steel nib into his chest? Alhaitham’s certain that it would hurt less than the words that left your trembling lips. 

A gentle hand cradled the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Letting those bitter tears strain his shirt and burn his skin.

No one, but the audience of a curious star and capricious gods peering down behind their blanket of clouds into this quiet house. 

Alhaitham once thought of himself as a good husband. Doing his fair share of chores and paying his half of the bills.

However, seeing your broken figure barely clinging onto his stiff frame, it’s clear that his overconfident assessment was a grave error. 

A  good husband would’ve been more attentive. A good husband would’ve noticed the tide slowly sweeping you away into the rough sea. A good, loving husband would’ve never let you sink alone in salty tears.

“Then I’ll drown with you.” His other hand grasping onto one of yours, slowly easing it away from his wrinkled shirt with soft caresses. 

Only monsters live in the deep cold sea, the only creatures able to survive the saltine waters and the pitch black nothingness. But as long as your fingers wove themselves into the gaps between his, he’ll be warm even as he sits on the sandy bottom of the murky ocean. 

Maybe that’s where the two of you belonged, two unromantic and prideful fools sitting at the bottom of the ocean.

Hand in hand so that the stupidity contained between the two of you won’t pollute anyone else. 

Gradually, those aching hiccups of yours faded into nothing more than muffled whimpers. Allowing silence to creep its way back into the gaps. The cause of this mess in the first place.

He has to remedy this, but what should he say? All those encyclopedias and journals he had thumbed through were all for naught. For Alhaitham’s mind couldn’t recall one fact from those pages.

One hand patting a slow rhythm into your back, trying to buy the man some time.

When logic and reasoning fail to explain the unexplained, folklore takes its place.

“According to legends, people used to have two pairs of hands, two pairs of feet, and two faces pointed in opposite directions.” He began.

“Back then, humans were powerful, powerful enough to threaten the gods who created them. So the gods split them in two. Cursing humans to a cruel search, desperate to be whole again.” His other hand still toying with your fingers.

You peer up at him, head still resting against his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart. Blinking away the tears, listening to his telling of a myth. 

“That’s the origin of a soulmate.” He finishes.

A soft giggle leaves your lips, a mixture of confusion and disbelief from Alhaitham quoting a fairytale. 

“And you believe in that?” Amused gaze connecting with brilliant beryl eyes. 

“Yes…because I found you.” Alhaitham tenderly brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers as a glint catches the sunlight. 

With a foreign sensation hugging a finger, your brows furrow. Holding your hand out toward the light again. Blinking eyes finally identify the gem which coyly appeared on your ring finger.

So that’s what he was doing, your tear stained cheeks shifting up as a smile stretches your once stiff lips.

Burying your head in the chest of the most unromantically romantic idiot you’ve ever known, a radiant laugh bubbling in your chest as it resonates off quiet walls. 

But as he is, so are you: An unromantically romantic soulmate in love. 

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[actiniumwrites]

hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you’re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

[hiitsm]

Through Rain and Pain

Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Note: this piece is a bit over the top.

Note: I've been feeling very anxious lately, a big deadline coming up next week. I won't be able to get any writing piece out for this weekend but I still wanted to give you all a little something.

-

As you step onto the Johan Cruijff Stadium in Barcelona for the pitch inspection with both teams, a wave of gratitude washes over you. Your club, though not widely known or fervently supported, largely due to its all-women roster, has defied the odds to reach the Women's Champions League first round.

Facing FC Barcelona Femení is a daunting challenge, and you secretly acknowledge that they are likely to win, yet the sting is softened by the fact that your girlfriend plays for them, along with many of your friends. You hold a quiet hope that next season will see you joining their ranks. Negotiations are already in motion, and you trust that the universe will align, allowing you to move to Barcelona and spend your days with your girlfriend by your side.

The stands of the Johan Cruijff Stadium are already buzzing with FC Barcelona fans, including Alexia’s family. You spot her mother Eli, sister Alba, and Uncle Richard among the sea of supporters and make your way over to greet them. Your journey here had its own set of challenges. Upon arriving in Barcelona last night and heading to the hotel by bus, your coach informed you, with a notable lack of sympathy, that your jersey had been forgotten, and there was no backup available. This oversight made you sigh heavily with frustration.

Thankfully, Alexia’s family has always been a pillar of support, not just for you and your relationship with Alexia, but for your career as well. Remembering that you had given them one of your club jerseys this season, you called Eli in a mix of embarrassment and desperation, asking if she could bring it to the stadium. You decided to keep this mishap from Alexia, knowing she would be outraged by how your coaching staff had overlooked their star player. You didn’t want to add to her stress or incite any trouble before the game.

As you approach Alexia's family, they greet you warmly with hugs. Eli immediately hands you your jersey, her expression clouded with concern. "I can't believe they did this to you. You need to leave that club," she says, echoing the protective nature that Alexia herself often shows. "I know, we are working on it," you reply with a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation evident in your voice. "But thanks to you, I can play today. I'll catch up with you all after the match!" you add, offering Eli an apologetic smile before heading back to the pitch, ready to face the game ahead.

You turn around to find your girlfriend standing there, a playful grin spreading across her face as she opens her arms wide for a hug, clearly amused by the slight jump you gave. "Did I just see my mother handing you one of your jerseys?" she asks, her eyebrow arched in a mix of humor and disbelief.

"Yes, because they forgot mine, but it's okay, these things happen, right?" you respond in a rushed whisper, hoping your swift chatter might prevent her from grasping the full story. But Alexia knows you too well and the concern is evident in her voice as she presses, "How could they forget you?"

You feel her hand grip your arm, a physical reminder for her to stay calm rather than confront your coaches then and there. "Just this season to finish, amor," you reassure her, trying to ease the tension.

She looks up at you, her eyes softening. "Te amo mucho," she whispers, her grip relaxing. With a smile, she releases you, wishes you good luck, and turns to greet her family with a quick hello.

You chat with a few teammates from your side before heading to the changing rooms to prepare. Your coaches deliver their typical, overly optimistic speeches about how much better your team is than FC Barcelona and how you can defeat them. You might have believed them, just like everyone else on your team, if your girlfriend wasn't Alexia Putellas.

You know firsthand the dedication she puts in as captain and the effort every player on their team invests. You see the hard work they put in, not just during training, but also at home.

Deep down, you know your team doesn't stand a chance. But you won't voice that. Instead, you smile and motivate everyone because they love the game. It’s going to be an exciting match, and playing against the best in the world is a valuable opportunity to improve your skills.

As you walk onto the pitch, now ready to face the match, the weather takes a turn, with pouring rain coming down from the sky. This is going to be a tough match.

Starting as a right winger, you quickly realize your teammates rely on you heavily, passing the ball to you every chance they get. You barely catch a breath, constantly helping to defend against Barça's relentless attacks. When your team does gain possession, they blindly pass it to you, trusting you to drive the offense. The coaches have built their tactics around you. It's a lot of pressure, but you're handling it well.

As you defend once again, you execute a slide tackle, tapping the ball away. However, the heavy rain causes you to slide further than expected, ending up on your stomach and chest. Suddenly, a sharp sting hits your right side, and you take a moment to catch your breath before attempting to get up.

Your girlfriend, notices that you haven't risen immediately. Despite being your opponent in this match, her concern for you takes precedence, and she quickly rushes to your side to check on you.

Alexia reaches you swiftly, placing a gentle hand on your back as you lay on your stomach. Meanwhile, your team takes advantage of the pause for a quick water break and a chat with the coach. "Are you okay, amor?" she asks softly.

"I don't know, something doesn't feel quite right," you say breathlessly, the sting in your side intensifying. Alexia's expression grows more serious as she looks at you closely, her eyes widening in alarm at what she sees.

Quickly, she positions herself in front of you, shielding you from the view of others. Confused, you hear her speaking urgently to her teammates, "Formen un círculo para tener privacidad y llamen a un médico." Her voice is fast and anxious, a clear sign of her worry.

As she sits on the field, her hands holding your head gently, her legs positioned protectively next to your sides, she notices small glass splinters on the field. Rage fills her, because how could their stadium have glass on the field? They even checked beforehand.

"There's glass on this field!" Alexia shouts angrily to the referee. The referee quickly sprints off to address the situation with the necessary personnel. Alexia immediately turns her focus back to you, her concern evident in her eyes.

"Just stay like this, okay Bebita? I've got you," Alexia says lovingly, her tone both soothing and protective. As you glance down, you see that your shirt has been sliced from the right neckline across to your left side. It has also cut through your bra, revealing your breast.

You're bleeding significantly on your right breast, with the rain making it more challenging to manage the bleeding. Panic rises within you, and you grip Alexia's hand more tightly.

"It's okay, Bebita. We've formed a circle for privacy" she reassures you, her voice calm and soothing. "I'm staying right here with you, okay? I just need to stand up for a moment to make room for the medics." She offers you a soft smile, her eyes filled with reassurance and unwavering support.

"We need to turn you onto your back so they can help you, she whispers, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'm here and not going anywhere. There's privacy, but if you feel uncomfortable, just call out to me, okay?" Her voice carries a hint of worry, yet remains soothing. You nod, squeezing her hand in acknowledgment. With Alexia's gentle assistance, you carefully turn onto your back, feeling her steady presence beside you, providing comfort and strength in this vulnerable moment.

As your team's medics finally arrive, they are momentarily shocked by the sight of all the blood, unsure of what to do. Alexia quickly signals to her team's medics for assistance. "Por favor, ayúdenla," she pleads worriedly, and they swiftly get to work. "They will put their hands on you to examine, okay?" Alexia gently squeezes the hand she's holding.

"Okay," you reply, feeling insecure and embarrassed despite knowing you shouldn't.

"It's going to be okay," she reassures you, squeezing your hand softly once more, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

"Necesita ir al hospital para que le quiten unas férulas de vidrio" a medic tells alexia after they checked you for a second. They can't do much unfortunately.

You find yourself wincing in pain, the Spanish words barely registering in your mind. "What did they say?" you manage to ask your girlfriend, your voice strained with discomfort. She looks at you with gentle concern and translates, "They're going to place you on a stretcher and take you to the hospital to remove the glass splinters and stitch you up."

Grateful for her honesty, you nod slowly, trying to process the impending ordeal. "Will you be there?" you inquire, a hint of insecurity creeping into your voice. Her response is immediate and reassuring, "Sí, mi amor," she says softly, her words like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

As the realization sinks in that the match will be delayed for further inspection of the incident, you feel a mix of frustration and relief. But in this moment, with your girlfriend's unwavering support, you find solace amidst the chaos.

Lying on the stretcher, you feel the tape pressing against your skin, a feeble attempt to staunch the bleeding from the wound. A blanket is draped over you, shielding you from prying eyes and preserving whatever dignity remains in this moment of vulnerability. Your girlfriend hovers beside you, her worry etched across her face like a deep furrow.

When the paramedics inform her that she can't accompany you in the ambulance, her expression shifts to one of dismay. "I'm going to mi mami, and we'll drive right behind you, okay, amor?" she assures you, her voice a blend of reassurance and determination. Despite the separation, her promise brings a flicker of comfort, knowing that she'll be close by every step of the way.

As the ambulance speeds away, Alexia dashes towards her mother, sister, and uncle who are still seated in the stadium, their faces etched with confusion and concern. "We have to go to the hospital," she blurts out urgently, her heart racing with worry as she vaults over the barriers to reach them, having already informed her coach of the situation.

"Más despacio, hija, ¿qué pasó?" Eli's voice quivers with anxiety, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive the moment you went down. She craves answers, needing to understand what happened to you in the blink of an eye.

Tears brim in Alexia's eyes as she recounts the harrowing incident, her emotions finally breaking through the facade of composure she had been desperately trying to maintain. "I don't know how, but there was glass on the field, and it cut right through her. We need to go now," she chokes out between sobs, her voice trembling with fear and frustration.

Alba, noticing Alexia's very distressed state pulls her into a fierce side hug, enveloping her in a comforting embrace, while their mother and uncle join in, their solidarity a soothing balm to Alexia's frayed nerves.

In those precious moments of shared warmth and support, the chaos of the situation momentarily fades into the background as they rally together to bolster Alexia's spirits.

After a few calming breaths and reassuring words exchanged between them, they rally into action, rushing towards the waiting car, their united resolve driving them forward as they prepare to face whatever lies ahead at the hospital.

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Seven)

Summary: After learning about your encounter with Cal, Tommy swiftly seeks out revenge for your brutal beating on your behalf. But after the dust settles from the days' harrowing events, Johnathan interrupts your quiet evening alone with Tommy. Fracturing your growing relationship beyond repair with his own selfishness.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence.

Word Count: 4550

Authors Note: £150 and £40 in 1924 is worth £7600 and £2000 in today's value.

Having dragged yourself to the safe confines of your bedroom before anyone saw the state Cal had left you in. You sat at your vanity, eyes welling with tears at the battered reflection of the person looking back at you.

How many times had you done this? you absently thought to yourself as you blinked through your tears. Fingers weakly stretching out for the powdery palette to conceal your fiance's sins.

And how many more times would you have to endure his heavy hand? your chest swelled with sorrow, pulling sharp breaths from your lungs until the dam opened and you were left hunched over the wooden table, grieving the fleeting happiness you were cruelly allowed to enjoy through strained sobs.

Anger for the hand you had been dealt in life, for the burdens of others you had to bare. You grabbed hold of the silver-plated comb on your vanity, throwing it with force at the glass mirror in front of you. Shattering the taunting reflection of the women in it, and the dreams she held for the future.

And just like times before, you raised your head with determination, summoning the last of your perseverance to continue on as you cleared your throat of any lingering emotions that dared to make themselves known. The mask you had let slip in Tommy's presence, now firmly fixed back in place.

"Enough" you scolded yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you as you pressed the puffy sponge into it's tightly compacted case. Patting the scented powder to your bruising cheek before heading downstairs.

Born into a duty of service to others, you had come to the realisation that no matter how much you screamed, how much you kicked your feet in protest, there was no escaping your life's responsibilities and the fate they held.

Your and Tommy's promise to each other, now suddenly words of misplaced passion. Only a small inconvenience, your heart would quickly bury under the fractures of life's hardships until nothingness. He was just a quick fling, just...

"Tommy..." your mouth parted, the whisper of his name mumbling past your lips as your fingers clutched fiercely onto the book grasped in your hand as you stepped around the corner of the wooden stairs to see him stood in the foyer, talking with a member of staff.

" Y/N..." his smitten eyes beamed with adoration as he excused himself from the conversation. The sight of you never failing to grab his full and undivided attention.

"Been looking for you" he caught up with your quickened pace as you swiftly tried to slip away from him seeing the bruises of violence that bore your skin.

"Bloody hell, slow down love " He chuckled as you silently paced the hallway to the back door of the house. Intent on avoiding any small talk or show of affection that would make the task in hand more torturous than it already was.

"Hey" he frowned, confused by your sudden silent treatment as his hand grabbed hold of the brassy handle of the door, stopping you from escaping his presence.

"You not gonna tell me how it went?" his stance hardened, his grip tightening around your only means of escape as you dipped your head, letting your hair fall around your face to conceal the swelling truth of your encounter with Cal.

" Fine. It went fine" you cleared your croaky voice of the bubbling emotions caught in your throat as Tommy's hand gently came up to brush the stray locks of hair from your face.

" What's a matter with you, eh?" He shuffled from one foot to the other as he turned your chin to face him, only to abruptly pull back when you flinched away from his concerned touch.

" What happened, Y/N?" His voice suddenly lowered into a gravelly demand, determined to know what had you so skittish.

"Nothing. Everything's fine, Tommy" you huffed with frustration, wanting to be free from his questions and the heaviness sitting on your chest.

" Fine, is it?" He scoffed, shaking his head at that scarcity of your reply and the years of knowledge he had gained to know that your chosen word of response was in fact, one far from its actual meaning.

"Yes fine, Tommy" you snapped, finding yourself matching his irritation as your brain scrambled to find another way to damage your lack of communication.

"I just...I just want to finish my book" you bluntly stated, your pathetic choice of excuse not enough to put your point across to Tommy's arched brow of bewilderment, when you abruptly let your tongue slip and delivered words purposely intended to hurt him.

" We don't have to spend every waking moment of the day together, Tommy" you provoked his feelings. Your tone of voice lacking in the softness you had shown him mere hours earlier.

" Why don't you bother someone else for a change, and stop harassing me for god sake!"

Was this your grand plan? Cruelly push him away without explanation, instead of revealing the burdens of your brother Cal was now blackmailing you with, you thought to yourself as a pang of guilt pooled in your stomach, your eyes sheepishly darting up to see the hurt flash across his face from the coldness your words bitterly stung him with.

" It's that what I am to you, eh? A fucking bother?" Tommy scoffed as his hands came to sit on his waist. The visible tension of upset, straining through the bone protruding through his chiseled jaw.

" Well then. Don't let me stop you from your reading, sweetheart" he gestured to the door. His scorned feelings taking the brunt of his dismissive reply as you clutched your book to your chest, eyes cast down with the pooling tears of shame you had unfairly inflicted.

" Excuse me" you pushed past his strong frame, fleeing before your lies revealed themselves through the sadness streaming down your cheeks.

" Fuck sake" Tommy sighed, running his hand down his face until the calloused pads of his fingers settled above his bottom lip, pinching it together in frustration as he watched you walk beyond the gardens of your home.

Confusion for your sudden change in behaviour and the lasting effect it had on his own stubbornness. Tommy briskly set off for the stables, determined to get to the bottom of things. Whether you liked it or not.

With no destination in mind, you stubbornly plodded through the thick mud of the fields behind your stately home, furiously wiping the tears that had settled on your cheeks when the galloping sound of muddy hooves steadily approached you from behind.

" Come on, get up. It's gonna rain" Tommy trotted in front of you on your white mare, looking up to the greying skies as he reached down for you to take his hand.

" It is, not" you stubbornly replied, irritated by the fact he had seemingly managed to tame your usually jumpy horse as a thunderous roar released itself from the clouds above you.

" Fine, have it your way. Come on girl" he clicked his booted heals against the horses muscled body, guiding her with tethered reigns to turn as he led her into a gallop in front of you.

" You, you..." words stumped you as a splattering of mud hit your freshly laundered dress while Tommy sharply turned to see his handy work with an amused smirk.

" You..." you continued to stutter as he trotted back, shifting in his saddle as he waited with curiosity to see if your slipping lady like demeanor would take one last, triumphant fall of grace.

" Go on, I dare you" he teased the words from behind your taught politeness.

" You pigheaded insufferable bastard!" You replied with a freeing gasp, succumbing to the use of vulgar profanities Tommy had purposely coaxed from you as he snorted a laugh.

" Idiot" you mumbled, eyes darting up to the cocky smirk of satisfaction riddled across his face as you scraped the sludge of your dress with the pages of your once pristine book.

" I think I preferred it when you were giving me the cold shoulder, darling" Tommy cleared his throat as another string of insults left your lips.

" Well, your influence has clearly awoken something in me. Something dark" you stormed off with a scorned face, as a glint of playfulness shone in your lover's eyes, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Right, you've had your little tantrum. Now come on" he called after you, throwing his leg over the horse as he jumped off.

"No!" You shouted back like a stroppy child as the sound of his muddied boots squelched through the thick sludge after you.

"Enough, Y/N. Now tell me what's wrong?" he demanded as he caught up with you, spinning you around by your waist to face him.

As your chest heaved with worry for the explanation you knew he was fairly owed, a sudden peppering of small droplets hit your cheeks, momentarily distracting you as you looked up to the darkened sky.

" Wha...what's that?" Tommy's brows knitted together, his grip tightening around your hips at the pigmented liquidy stream running down your face, revealing your reddened skin beneath. " Y/N?"

"Nothing, it's nothing" your hand came up to feel the powder you had applied now a watery substance at the ends of your fingers.

" Don't move" Tommy's voice ordered with urgency as he held you in place, licking the end of his thumb to brush the rest of your carefully concealed bruise exposed by the approaching storm rolling in.

" I'll kill him...I'll fucking kill him!" Tommy's voice roared as his eyes widened at the sight of the battered skin you had kept hidden from him.

" Tommy stop, wait!" You pleaded, scrambling for him as he turned to leave.

" What happened, Y/N?" He abruptly spun back around, grabbing you by your arms as the rage within him and the severity of his punishment for the bastard responsible waited on your response.

" I started it, Tommy. I hurt him first" you sobbed as your shaky hands pawed at his chest, trying to calm the anger within him you feared would turn on you like it had done so many times before with Cal.

"Hard enough to earn you a blow that's blackened your skin, eh Y/N?" His patience with you defending the man accountable, bitterly spat from his lips as a clap of thunder startled your jittery body.

" What else aren't you telling me?" Tommy shook you back to his attention as the heavens opened, and a peltering of rain stung your skin.

"Y/N, I'm not gonna ask twice" he insisted as your darting eyes met his piercing glare through the drenched locks of hair tousled in front of his eyes.

" Johnathan..." you swallowed your mounting tears, reluctant to share your family's troubles as Tommy nodded his head, urging you to continue before he tore the city apart and found the cunt himself.

" Johnathan owes over £900 to a man in Camden. He said he'll kill him if he doesn't pay it back by the end of the week..."

" Go on" he encouraged, wanting to hear the entirety of the ordeal that had you finding yourself at the mercy of your fiance's heavy hand.

"Cal...Cal, he knows about us, Tommy" your eyes pooled with tears as his jaw tightened with anger. Anger for himself and the little he had done to conceal your affair that hand landed you with a battered cheek.

" He said he will pay his debts, and save my brother's life. In return I marry him in three days time" you let the weight of your brother's burden fall from your lips as you stifled your sobs. Unable to meet the eyes of the man that had let you forget the woes of your life you had done your upmost to keep him from.

"Why didn't you come to me?" A pool of hurt sat in his stomach, unsettled by the notion you hadn't sought out his help and took a brutal beating instead.

"Hey. Why didn't you tell me?" his fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to face him.

"Because it's not your burden to bare. I...I can't...I don't expect anything from you Tommy" you wept as your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, holding onto to the comfort his strong frame gave you.

"Yes you can. You can, darling" his voice softened as his thumb brushed over your bruised skin.

"I'll deal with this. With all of it. You have my word" He reassured your worries, pulling you into his chest as he cradled your head against his thumping heart. A strained sigh of relief that he wasn't the root cause of your sudden change of emotion, releasing from his chest.

"Come on, let's go home, eh?"

Having handed the money to pay off the hefty debts of your brother later that day. Tommy had ventured out into the backstreets of his childhood home after receiving word from his men that the unlikely sight of a smartly dressed man had been seen lurking around Small Heath in search of business.

" And whose it we're looking for?" Arthur questioned, smoothing down the whispery edges of his moustache as he dodged the many potholes scattered along the grimy alleyways of Birmingham. "That posh prick?"

" Yeh, the prick..." Tommy's voice petered out, his eyes narrowing from person to person who had sought out the services the underworld of Small Heath had to offer.

" Tom, ay up" Arthur nodded to a dead end at the far side of the gully to Cal stood behind a tin dustbin, trousers bundled around his ankles, pushing the mouth of a renowned prostitute into his groin.

" Go home, the lot of you" Tommy's gravelly voice ordered, stood at the end of the alleyway with his hands sat comfortably in his trouser pockets as the evening's punters scattered from the dimly lit cobbled street around him.

" Not you" Tommy tutted to Cal pushing the woman's head off him as he scrambled to pull up his briefs.

" Go on Dottie, off with ya" Arthur gave the giggling raven-haired woman a light tap on the bum before sending her on her way with a bundle of notes.

" Well, well, well. I thought you were too good for our town, Mr Astor?" Tommy stalked towards him, watching him slick back his usually pristine cropped hair from his face.

"Thought I'd try out the local delicacies. If they're good enough for you...well, I'm sure I can make an exception for myself. Men of the same taste, hm Shelby?" Cal casually remarked as he pulled a cigar from his suit jacket, his comment that of a man trying to diffuse the precarious situation he now found himself in. An unsuitable and stupid occasion to confront him about his affair with you.

"Try all you like. Plenty to go around, ey Arthur?" Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the nervously darting pair of eyes in front him, watching them come to the satisfying realisation that the alleyway was now deserted.

"An abundance" Arthur gestured to the empty street. It's eery quietness enough to prickle the skin of any intruder unaccustomed to its foreboding darkness.

"But make no mistake, Mr Astor. We're not the same. I've never laid my hand on a woman" Tommy's voice spoke with disgust as Cal's eyes snapped to him, a breathy chuckle of nervousness for his brutal assault on you having been discovered.

" Your whore deserve..." Cal spat, only to have his vapid words of an excuse quietened with a heavy blow to the cheek when Tommy's fingers curled into a fist, knocking him to the ground in one perfectly aimed blow to his face.

Scrambling for air, Cal desperately kicked his feet against the muddy stoned path as Tommy loomed over him. Submerging his reddening face through gritted teeth, and strained veins into one of the many murky watered craters.

" Ey, wakey wakey!" Tommy pulled him up against the stoned wall, slapping his muddy cheek to bring him out of the darkness he'd slipped into.

" I'm curious, Cal" Tommy bent down, pulling his head up by the scruff of his neck as Cal's lungs desperately gasped for air.

"How does it feel knowing I was fucking your wife to be as you stood outside her door?" Tommy's smile curled into a wicked grin of enjoyment as he watched his squirming face of jealously.

"Quite the screamer, nearly got us caught" Tommy toyed with him, relishing at the sight of him learning a cutthroat gangster was the only one to have ever given you pleasure.

"Not that you would know, eh? You just take what you want, what you think you're owed. And if you don't get your way...well, you start throwing fists, don't you, Cal?" His grasp tightened around his collar, ringing the air from his lungs.

" Not very gentlemanly. Ladies always come first" Arthur straightened his back, fancying himself a man of importance more than the scum at his feet.

"Of that you're right, brother" Tommy's piercing stare honed in on at the quivering man under his mercy.

"You look concerned, Mr Astor" Tommy cocked his head to the side as Cal's lip trembled in fear at the sharp blade sewn into the peaked cap inches from his face.

" Maybe you should cut him a smile, Tom? Cheer the poor bastard up" Arthur sniggered, tauntingly kicking the end of his pristine dress shoes now covered in the land of the lower class.

" You're right, Arthur. Let's give him something to smile about" Tommy's eyes glazed over with an unstoppable duty of revenge as he pulled his cap from his head, the teasing sharpness of the blade catching the light of the glowing street lamp as it swung in front of him.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen please, I beseech you..."

"Hear that, Arthur? We're gentlemen now" Tommy scoffed a laugh at the pathetic plea for help, his blade seconds from delivering his retribution.

" Fuck your fancy titles" Arthur found a deep-rooted hatred upon hearing his begging as he spat at the feet of the man that had undoubtedly dodged numerous battles of war his money could buy.

" Now, what do we have here?" a police officer's timely appearance appeared in the opening of the alleyway, baton in hand.

" Scrapping, are we lads?" the officer's brows raised upon seeing the two Shelby men who paid him a generous sum of money to look the other way. But not enough to deal with the headache that would come with the swarm of journalists that would descend onto Small Heath to inquire about the gruesome death of a socialite.

" Boys will be boys" Arthur playfully raised his arms in surrender, a mischievous smirk of deceit toying on the corner of his lips.

" Right, move along" the police officer ordered, taping his black rod of punishment that had seen the back of every criminal's knees in town against the red-bricked wall.

" Keep an eye out, eh Cal? While you can" Tommy's deadly threat quietly warned as he stood up, adjusting his tweed crown firmly back on his head.

" Welcome to Small Heath, Mr Astor" Tommy called out as he and Arthur slipped out of the backstreets into the night.

" Toffs" the officer looked down at the unwelcome visitor before returning to his rounds with a whistling tune.

Unprotected, left to fend for himself in the streets belonging to those that held nothing but hatred for the man that looked down on them. Cal swiftly made a dash for safety through the winding alleyways of unknown territory. Knowing that at any wrong turn, he could see a smiling blade of vengeance come down on his face.

"Whiskey?" you asked, turning to Tommy later that evening stood with his hand resting the weight of his body on the back of an armchair in your shared living room as his eyes scanned over the letter he had recieved on his return from Small Heath.

" Yeh" he absently replied, nose deep in the document and its cementing conclusion of your shared ordeal as you strolled towards him.

" Looks important" you noted, handing him the glass tumbler of liquor as he folded the typed paper into his suit pocket, a look of concern for how the news would effect your growing relationship, etched between his brows.

" Just business" he replied, snaking his arm around your waist as he pulled you in, pressing an urgent kiss to your lips, rich with notes of spice and vanilla from his favourite beverage.

" Business. Do you ever rest, Mr Shelby?" you pulled away from the lure of his intoxicating embrace as you arched a brow.

" How can I with you around, eh?" he smirked into your mouth, taking the crystal glass of whiskey from your hand as his tongue swiped against yours with wanton need.

Trailing his hands under the loose fabric of your flowing summer dress, Tommy guided you backwards until your legs hit the plush pillows of the upholstered settee, when the door flew open and a giggling Johnathan came stumbling.

Fuck sake.

" Johnathan" Tommy huffed, begrudgingly pulling himself away from you as he adjusted his growing desire to have you bent over the arm of the sofa, moaning his name. "Whiskey?"

" A double, old chap" he slurred, fumbling in his pockets for a cigar as his unsteady footing swayed from side to side, causing a bundle of notes to fall from his tailored jacket as your eyes widened with concern.

" Johnathan" you pulled him to the side in a hushed voice as he stumbled to pick up the heavy stack of notes sitting on the polished floor.

" What have you done?" you demanded to know through gritted teeth, grabbing the rolled banknotes from his hand.

" Nothing" he snapped back, as he searched for his lighter. His huffing breath, stinking of champagne and tobacco. Hammered, absolutely hammered.

"Where did you get this? Tell me?" your heart began to race as you watched his lazy fingers struggle to light the cigar between his teeth.

"It's only £150, sissy. Now stop badgering me. You're starting to sound like Grannie" he quietly brushed off your concerns as Tommy watched the hushed conversation from across the room, slowly stalking towards you.

" From the money Tommy gave you to pay your debts?" the realisation hit you as a sickly feeling rose in your chest at the thought of him double-crossing not only a man responsible for crimes beyond your imagination, but a man you fallen head over heels for.

" Johnathan, there's only £40 here" your fingers quickly flicked through the banknotes missing more than one third of it's total sum, as your brother slumped down into the chair next to you.

" My god...you gambled it away" your eyes suddenly welled with tears for the hopelessness you felt pooling in your stomach and the betrayal of trust you suddenly felt. " Tommy paid your debts, and you...you..."

" Y/N?" Tommy's gruff voice rumbled your name as he stood feet from you, the heat of his stare piercing through the back of your head.

"Tommy..." you mumbled as you turned to see the look of disgust for feeling fooled by you and your brother harden his face, having come to his own conclusion as to what your conversation and handling of money was about.

" Tommy, wait!" you raced after him as his thudding footsteps turned to leave before he let the last of his patience with your family's troubles slip into a violent outburst.

" You've been playing me, haven't you? Playing on my affections for you?!" Tommy snapped back to you with a pointing finger of misplaced accusations.

" Wha.. No. No!" Your eyes brimmed with tears as he pushed your once welcome touch forcibly away.

" Was this your plan all along, eh? Tell me your little sob story, so I'd pay your fucking brother's debts off and line your pockets?!" Tommy's voice boomed throughout the foyer as he grabbed hold of the sides of your cheeks, his blood pumping with rage for the scam he was convinced you were both mutually in on.

" You think I'd do that to you?" your lip wobbled as your shaky fingers gingerly reached out for his burning face, reddened with fury for the betrayal he felt.

" My brother's weaknesses are not shared, Tommy. They're not mine" you wept through the sobs caught in your throat.

" Just leave, Y/N. Get out of my house, both of you" he pulled your hands off him in fear he'd succumb to the blazing fire of anger you had ignited in him and tarnish the memories of the time he'd foolishly spent on you. The love he foolishly felt for you.

" This is my home too!" you sniffed back your cries as you defensively straightened your back against his demands.

" That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. Arrow House is mine" he quickly corrected you as he pulled the letter he had kept you from seeing only moments before from his pocket.

"Lawyer drafted a new copy after my meddling Aunt and your Grandmother decided it was best kept from me" he let the document fall into your hands as your eyes darted across the neatly typed words.

" I've no where to go" you tearfully looked up to see him stood watching your pleading eyes, his anger with your deception eclipsing any pity he once had for you.

"That's not my problem, is it?" Tommy's voice snapped, turning away before he let himself fall into the beckoning trap of your weeping sobs.

"Now leave, Miss Y/L/N. Leave my house" he ordered once more as he turned his back to you, his stubborn scorned heart abandoning you to a frightful destiny and your only remaining choice of survival.

" Saturday then?" Cal's bandaged hand snaked over your shoulder as you sat at the bay window of your grandmother's small cottage the next day.

" Yes" you quietly replied, as your reddened eyes blinked through the last of your tears you had cried since fleeing your childhood home.

" Good girl" he praised, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before turning to leave with the guarantee of your future now in his hands.

" Grannie" he bid your grandmother goodbye with a cunning smirk of satisfaction.

As her eyes welled with tears for the unstoppable hands of times honing in. Her aged fingers, marked with browning spots of wisdom, clutched tightly around her cane as she looked up to the framed picture of a woman dressed in a sequinned gown sitting on her mantle.

" I'll get to the bottom of this, my dear. Mark my words" Grannie quietly promised the woman in the picture that had sacrificed her last dying breaths to keep her only granddaughter from a life unworthy of living. Your mother.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium

@peakyswritings @tiedyedghoulette @mostly-marvel-musings @classygirlything21 @dana-rmz

@mrsnms

[hwallazia]

SKIN – 정윤호

synopsis . in which yunho soothes you after your boyfriend breaks up with you.

pairing . jeong yunho & fem! reader

genre . fluff, angst, lovers to exes (reader with her bf), friends to lovers?, non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 2,4k

DISCLAIMER! cursing, slight degradation (yn is called a “bitch” by her boyfriend), lots of tears, yn’s got a boyfriend whose name is never mentioned, yn in here has dark hair (sorry for my light-haired babes, it’s just for the plot), sabrina carpenter sad songs (yes, that goes as a warning), physical and psychological insecurities, cutest pet names (princess, baby, love, yun & more), body worshipping, just softie bsf yuyu showing all his love to reader ><

NIC’S NOTES this fic has a piece of my heart, i put all my poet ass in it lmao. ofc it’s inspired in “skin” by sabrina carpenter (song rec alert !!). enjoy, dearsss <3

“come to my place. now” was what you had told yunho when you called him. and no more words nor explanations were needed for him to rush into your studio apartment’s door.

a soft knock reverberated across the gloomy room while you were too busy rotting on your sofa, a feather pillow was pressed against your pale face by your hands as they grasped the fluffy material. you groaned before forcing your body up, your stocking feet idly searching for your black and white slippers. tired body shuffling its way to your door.

you swung your door open revealing your best friend’s figure, enveloped in an oversized hoodie, hands busy holding a basket full of your favorite sweets and scented candles. you also could take a peek at some teabags, also of your preferences. “bought some things on my way here. you sounded a bit off so i thought these could make you feel better.” he muttered as he analyzed your state, smudged mascara on your cheeks catching his attention.

your boyfriend of two years had called you to ask you if you were free tonight. as excitement rushed through your veins, you accepted frantically; you hadn’t seen him in so long since he was on some sort of business trip, you didn’t know. he didn’t clarify what it was for and you didn’t even bother asking, limiting yourself to only wish him the best and tell him how much you love him and to be safe. your small studio apartment felt so small and empty without his joyful presence, yunho having to fill the void. but finally, finally, the two weeks; fourteen days; 336 hours, and fifty minutes passed, though they did at the pace of a turtle.

you tracked the flight of the airplane he was in as the two-weeks-accumulated anxiety was overflowing you. when your screen informed you that he’d arrive in only ten minutes, you changed your clothes, did your makeup as fast as lightning, and drove, ignoring a few traffic signs, to the airport. and you waited, and waited, and waited. he never showed up.

with all the people that passed you by while you lingered in that airport, you tried to convince yourself that maybe he was there or that his flight was delayed. the most nonsensical excuses were formed in your head. you were quick to grab your phone, slide your finger across your screen, and type anxiously against it, your eyes moving from side to side, up and down, looking for his contact.

to love: “where are u”

to love: “have u arrived yet?”

no response. your feet were starting to feel your weight too much, feeling sore as the minutes passed. a teardrop threatened to roll off your cheekbone but you resisted, holding onto a miserable bit of hope. and then it started raining, the heavy drops hammering the walls made of glass of the airport and you heaved a sigh. a part of you refusing to accept that he wasn’t there and that you had to rot in a cold, lonely bed again for god knows how much time. your index finger was firmly placed on the on and off button of your phone, checking your screen every five seconds, envisioning the relieving sound of a “ding” indicating that he had finally replied to you. sadly, it didn’t.

although, he had taken the time to answer to your desperate messages four days later, you were still excited to meet your lover again, after being apart for such a long time. you were supposed to have a pretty dinner date at his place, or at least that’s how you interpreted his words. actually he had said “we need to catch up! come to my place by 6”, but you still dolled up as if you were modeling on the fucking red carpet. and you regretted it so much.

a few sips of the sparkling champagne were enough for you to start confessing how much you had missed him and everything you had done in his absence. your crystallized bubble crumbled down so fast, though. only five words, five damn words were necessary for your eyes to start welling up with precious teardrops.

“we need to break up.” he had said. emotionless. as if he was giving you the fucking hour.

“what. why?” your eyes peered down his soul as you tried to retain a few tears that already demanded their release. you processed his words and spoke, “and what do you mean by need?” 

your scattered voice didn’t hurt him. not at all. “i’ve been hiding something from you for… too much time.” you gasped. your ears tickling in anticipation. “sorry, but i’m in love with… someone else.”

the glass of champagne that rested on your hand on the edge of the table slipped off it and met the floor, the crystal and liquor spread all over it, messing its neatness up. tears started to flow down your heated cheekbones, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “how long?”

your simple question received a simpler answer. “eight months.”

your throat ran dry but you still managed to speak back through gritted teeth. “eight months. was i not enough for you? were those eight months happier for you?”

he stood up, now both of you speaking face-to-face. frown brows decorated his expression. “why bother telling you?”

“answer me!” you demanded, your voice and heart naturally breaking with each passing second near him.

“fine. those were the best months of my life. she’s the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen, her soul is just as bright as her blonde hair. she treats me like a king, yn. and what have i gotten with you? nothing but just shitty nights, crying myself to sleep because of our never-ending fights.” he breathed before continuing, “don’t you understand that you’re nothing compared to her?”

he deadpanned and you couldn’t bring yourself to hold eye contact. your knuckles turned clearer as you tightened your fist. “fuck you.”

you didn’t think twice before standing up and making your way out of that unforgettable apartment, not daring to look back; you managed to hear a faint “you asked, bitch!”. once you walked out of the building and entered your car, you fell apart. mascara stains all over your face and smudged lipstick around your mouth. the tight grip you maintained on the steering wheel was alternative in function of not breaking your fist by punching a concrete wall. you turned up the radio, desperately looking for a song that’d cheer you up. but “opposite” by sabrina carpenter started playing.

you drove home with the singer’s soothing voice and melody in the background as the lyric was blabbered by your broken self, hitting naturally differently. at this point, your face was a mess, unlocking a new feature of you. before arriving home, you thought of yunho. yes, he’d definitely be the solution —or distraction— of all this disarray. so you typed “yuyu” on the contacts’ search bar, rapidly hitting the call button.

and he picked up so fast, promising you to be at your place in 10. and here he was, wrapping your core with his large arms in a warm, much-needed hug. you allowed the rest of the teardrops that hadn’t fallen to do so, a patch of wetness on yunho’s hoodie.

“do you wanna talk about it?” his soothing voice comforting you. he waited patiently for you to recompose and be able to formulate non-blabbered sentences.

“it’s him, yun.” your words were muffled by his cloth, yet still audible for yunho to comprehend. “he cheated on me.” you lifted your face up his chest, teary-eyed. “for eight fucking months.”

genuinely, yunho never liked your boyfriend. there was just something about him that triggered yunho, so he rejected him from the very first start. still, he didn’t say anything about his repudiation towards your boyfriend since he was a witness of how much you adored him. the little girl grin your lips would form every time you talked about him was so cute. a facet of him wished that smile to be caused only because of him though. he’d tell you how he felt about your boyfriend, but not now. not when he has you breaking down on his arms.

“come on, princess. let’s lie on the couch.” he mumbled as he scooped you in his arms, holding you soundly. idly, you enveloped your arms around his toned neck and hid your messed-up face in the crook of his neck. due to his height and the small space of your apartment, five steps were enough for him to lay your core all along the fluffy, light-colored couch, your ankles hanging off of its armrest. he sat next to your head and you lifted it a bit, indicating him to put his legs under your nape to use his thighs as a pillow.

he trailed his hand up and down your untied hair, alleviating your pain away. “what did he tell you, hm?”

you exhaled deeply, remembering his harsh words, your irises being covered by a watered shield for the nth time that night. yunho’s thumb rushing up your eyes and brush them away. “nonono, baby.” he whispered tenderly, swelling your heart up even more. a moment of silence was given to you by him. “take a deep breath for me.”

your chest rose and fell as you followed yunho’s instructions, your teary eyes locked with his, full of sweetness and affection. his thumb still working on the constant waterfall that kept flowing down your cheeks. you kept your breathing pace calm and collected, a proud, beaming smile adorning his face. “that’s it, sweetheart. just like that” he kept quiet for a moment before speaking again. “whenever you feel ready, just vent with me.”

five minutes passed and yunho didn’t seem bothered because of it. hell, he’d give you all the existing time for you to get over that jackass. he adored you way too much and thought that you were too beautiful to be crumbling down because of him. and he didn’t have to say it, his eyes spoke for him, perfectly reflecting his devotion to you.

your deep sigh pulled him out of his trance. and you finally started spilling out all your thoughts. “i asked him if i wasn’t enough for him and if he had spent those eight months with her happily. i don’t even know why i did that. i must be some sort of a masochist” you said causing yunho to let out a breathy chuckle. “he said that they were. and that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, with a soul as bright as her hair.” his words tattooed on your skull. your voice nearly broke. “and that i’m nothing compared to her.”

“and did you believe him?” he questioned. “do you?”

“i—“ you stammered, not knowing your response. your misery and self-love were tearing you down to pieces. “i don’t know, yun.”

“and you’re so wrong for that.” he stated and you tilted your head slightly in confusion. “honey. look at you” his hand flew down your thighs, caressing the upper part of them. “your legs, so smooth and strong. ready to take your beautiful soul to any corner of the world.” he continued his path up to your arms, stroking them. “your arms, so slimmed and powerful. they make you look like a little defenseless girl when in reality you can knock tons of people with just your fist.” you choked a chuckle, flattered because of his praise, which seemed to be never-ending since he kept on going, his long palm rubbing your covered abdomen. “your perfect sized-belly with the most hypnotizing curves known to man.” he dedicated a few seconds of his journey along your core to draw soft circles on your waist. and he moved on, reaching your neck. gentle fingers grazed its sides. “your neck, covered in the most perfect constellation of freckles.”

you giggled, your skin way too flushed since you were locked in a prison of praises. “okay, yun. we got your poin—“

he shushed you right away. “mm. i’m not done yet.” his right hand cupped one side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “your cheeks. so cute whenever you’re nervous or embarrassed. like right now.” he admired the view of your pinkish skin for a bit longer before locking his honey-dripping gaze with yours, now completely absent of tears. “and your eyes. your intoxicating, saturn-like eyes. the little beam that always shines in them reminds me of the stars, y’ know?” he confessed. “and don’t even get me started with your endearing, beautiful soul.”

the palm of your hand cradled his face, his head tilting against your touch as he covered it with his own. “yunho..”

your whisper tickled his heart. “yes, love?”

your heart ached for healing, its wounds crying out for solace. you firmly believed that yunho’s lips held the remedy you so desperately sought, a cure capable of mending the fractured pieces of your soul. you stood before him, every beat of your heart echoed with hope and longing. when yunho finally leaned in, his kiss was more than just a touch—it was a gentle balm that eased your pain, restoring a sense of wholeness you hadn’t felt in months. in that moment, you knew that the healing you had yearned for was not only possible but was unfolding before you, one tender kiss at a time.

as yunho’s lips lingered on yours, you felt a warmth spread through you, an escape from the lingering chill of your recent heartbreak. even though you knew in the back of your mind that you should give yourself time to heal, to focus on your own recovery and self-discovery, the desire to be close to yunho overpowered your rational thoughts. his kiss was a sanctuary from the storm of emotions, a fleeting moment of solace that you clung to desperately.

when he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours with a mix of concern and affection. you could see that he understood the uncertainty you were feeling, but he chose to respect your vulnerability. “you don’t have to rush anything,” he said softly, “i’m here for you. no matter what.”

you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and confusion in your eyes. “i know,” you whispered. “i just... needed this.”

yunho took your hand gently, his touch comforting and reassuring. “take all the time you need,” he said. “i’ll be right here.”

as you let the tender moment just end, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you. the healing process was far from over, but yunho’s presence gave you a glimmer of hope. you knew that it’d take time to rebuild and to understand what you truly needed, but for now, you allowed yourself to cherish the connection you shared with him. the road ahead was uncertain, but at least you weren’t walking it alone.

| masterlist

[sincerelymina]

shades of cool

content ꒰ 4.0k ꒱ damnation leon x female reader.  unrequited love.  slight age difference if ya nasty.  hard angst.  hurt/no comfort.  mild smut (p in v).  very very toxic behavior from leon.  you just want to be loved.  leon couldn't care less—but there's a catch. he says the thing !! could also be interchangeable with vendetta leon. not proofread. author's note shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for the endless support & help !! be sure to check her stuff out as well, they're a godsend. i listened to a weird mix of lana del rey and jeff buckley while writing this, so do with that what you will. reblogs & comments are highly appreciated !! ꣑ৎ

moonlight pours in through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the embrace of your bedroom. every night slowly began to feel longer than the last, sleep eluding you despite the exhaustion that lingered in your bones. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of leon's absence pressing heavily onto your chest. nine days of unrelenting radio silence. 

you missed the comfort of his presence, the rough kisses he'd leave on your soft lips, the sweet nothings he'd coo into your ears as he thrusted in & out of you like his life depended upon it. 

the darkness whispers into the tiny room, enticing your doubts and fears, weaving them into the delicate fabric of your thoughts. maybe he ran into ada. despite the sour taste the theory left behind, it made sense, much to your dismay. 

you had nothing on her. how could a tough agent, known to be quick on her feet, be so naïve to think that leon truly was over the woman in red—did you seriously think he was in love with you now? it was pitiful by all means. 

whatever you had going on with the man, it was anything but love. sure, you might've been so utterly transfixed by the man, enough to the point where you always at his beck and call. but he surely didn't feel as strongly towards you. you were just easy, so pliable in his calloused hands. leon was a cruel, broken man that simply took what he wanted and left you with nothing.

yet still, you'd be waiting for him with open arms—and legs.

you were like a moth, irresistibly drawn to a flame that would eventually burn you. a light that you'd always come crawling back to, even if it singed your wings.

rain pelted against your window, bathing the room in a comfortable silence, spare for the pitter-patter upon glass. it does little to quell the hollow beating of your heart, the racing thoughts in your restless mind. this week had been full of one too many sleepless nights. you just wanted to finally succumb to your exhaustion, pretend leon didn't exist just for a few hours.

but you were too damn weak. such a slave for his attention, for his "love." you'd do just about anything for the older man's approval. everything about your self-worth was based upon those icy blues. not even the desire to sleep could surpass the desperation for him. 

leon's shoulders sagged as fatigue coursed through his blood, hot and heavy. rain splatters against the bottoms of his dark blue jeans, his motorcycle coming to a halt in front of your apartment complex. with a smooth twist of the throttle and a gentle squeeze of the brakes, the tires skid against the gravel, followed by the rumble of the engine fading into a soft purr. 

his brown hair was sodden with water droplets, the strands sticking to his forehead. a sharp sigh left the expanse of his lungs as he swung his leg over the seat and dismounted from his bike. just his luck, leon thought with a grimace, that a storm hit mid-ride.

as he walked through the lobby, heading straight for the elevator, leon silently wondered what the hell he was doing. a part of him felt unbelievably guilty for taking advantage of your feelings like this, always expecting you to allow him into your place, even on a whim like this. especially after not bothering to send a single text to you for well over a week.

the pad of his thumb pushes the button, the elevator doors splitting open. leon pushes any feelings of shame to the far back of his mind, focusing on the main task at hand—sex. that's all this was to him after all. he couldn't be bothered with commitment. 

years of slaving away for the government had etched a weariness into his bones, leaving him a hollow shell of who he once was. one whose heart, that once yearned for love—similar, if not identical, to the kind you felt for him—now laid dormant beneath a shroud of emotional detachment. 

that kept the guilt that wrapped around his heart at bay, a poor excuse for how he treated you.

a few moments pass before the elevator's doors slide open with a soft hum. leon steps out, finding his way to your place as if it were second nature, which at this point, it was safe to say it was. his muscles memorized the entire way, every twist and turn. soon enough, he was right at your doorstep, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

a knock against the front door shattered the silence that encased your apartment, the sound of someone's fist rapping against the wood rippling through the quiet atmosphere. it causes you to jerk upwards, afraid of who might be waiting at the door at two in the fucking morning. it couldn't be leon, he was the last person you expected—then again, him showing up on a whim wasn't a foreign notion between the two of you. 

expecting the worst, you kick the comforter off your body, allowing it to cascade to the ground as you carefully step outside your bedroom. swiping your handgun off the kitchen counter—because of course, you'd carelessly left it there—you then pad down the threshold, one foot in front of the other.

the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door isn't lost on leon, to which he furrowed his brows, wondering why you were taking your sweet time heading towards it. "it's me," he says gruffly, the deep baritone reverberating off of the hallway's walls. 

you could recognize that voice from a mile away, unfortunately. your heart thumped in the confines of your chest, beating erratically at the knowledge of who was behind that door. you swallow hard, hand hovering over the cool metal of the knob before turning it slowly, revealing the man you had been longing to see.

remnants of the pouring rain outside glistened on his worn leather jacket as leon stood stiffly in the doorway, with a sullen yet exhausted expression sewn between his features. droplets clung to his hair, tracing rivulets down his face like tears mingling with the dark circles beneath his eyes. icy blues pierce through your own. he was so gorgeous, it physically pained you.

he was actually here, at your doorstep, in the flesh.

a puzzled look finds its way onto your face, mingling with the tiredness in your eyes. in disbelief, you mutter, "leon?"

"can i come in?" leon asks, not giving you any context as to why he just showed up after days of no communication. his eyes rake over you, taking in your appearance—tousled hair, thin tank top and shorts, sluggish demeanor. you looked so pretty in the dim light.

"it's two am." you say matter-of-factly, eyes now glued to the floor. 

his jaw clenches, biting his tongue to hold back a snarky remark you didn't deserve. hell, you should've just slammed the door on his face, without a single word, and he would have no right to be angry at you about it.

so, leon resorts to simply inquiring, "is that a no?"

"not exactly," your voice was subdued, weak. should you let him inside? you mull over the thought, letting it ripple through your mind, like a pebble dropped in a pond. despite your better judgment, you step aside, letting him walk past you and into your humble abode. he mutters a quiet thanks as he shrugs his jacket off.

the living room held its breath along with the two of you, the air thick with unspoken words. the silence stretched like a taut wire, vibrating with the weight of your incessant thoughts. with a heavy sigh, leon collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. you hate how he's acting as if everything between the two of you was normal, like he hadn't been deliberately ignoring you for days.

"so…" you break the stillness, unable to take it anymore. "are you just going to pretend everything is okay, like you haven't been ignoring every single one of my calls?" despite how fragile you sounded, your misery was clear as day. 

"here we go," leon grumbles to himself, still audible enough for you to hear. "listen, i was busy, okay?" his tone goes shifted from quiet to frustrated, refusing to look you in the eyes as you tentatively stood a few feet away from him.

bitterly, he adds, "and i'm not obligated to. i'm not your little boyfriend. how many times do i have to remind you?" sure, it might've been common courtesy, but leon was stretched thin tonight, leaving you demurred and him unbothered. 

"i'm sorry," you sigh pathetically, feeling helpless. 

but instead of easing his nerves, your apology only further agitates him, "oh, now you're gonna go all pouty baby on me? give me a break." leon hisses, each word a stab to the heart. "jesus, you're hopeless." his eyes meet yours again, only this time with displeasure glimmering solemnly.

desperate for a shred of salvation, you clung to what little self respect you had left in your bones, determined to salvage any dignity you still possessed after all this. 

your brows knit in frustration, retorting back just as harshly, "you're the one who keeps showing up at ungodly hours, always expecting me to bend to your fucking will. you never call, never text, unless i do first, yet always expect me to welcome you in." 

your fists clench, fingernails digging crescents into your palms. you couldn't stand it anymore, being his bitch, always so compliant, so understanding of his random bursts of insensitivity. you could just tell that deep down, he knew this meant more to you, giving him all the more reason to keep coming back—it didn't help that you were really pretty too. he was blatantly taking advantage of your love, and with zero remorse at that, as the cherry on top.

leon groans in pure frustration, eyes fluttering shut, as his head tilted backwards, "i'm too fucking tired for this shit." brown locks of hair partially obscure the side of his face, a perfect silhouette of his side profile on display—he was infuriatingly handsome. he stood up, fixing you a look that could slice through stone. 

"i don't ever see you slamming the door in my face. you let me in like it's the one thing you're good at. always so fucking desperate to please someone who couldn't care less about you." 

the words are crueler than he wished they'd be, regret instantly hitting him like a pile of bricks. he could say he didn't mean that all he wants, but the words flowed so seamlessly, without a single stutter or falter. it was plain as day that this was how he truly felt—the raw, unequivocal truth. once spoken, undeniably irrevocable. and you both knew this.

and it stung, like a hard slap across the face. you would've preferred for him to do that; at least the pain would've withered away far quicker than the mental anguish you were left with now. even in his fit of rage, the defeated, wide-eyed expression you donned tugged at leon's heartstrings. 

uncomfortable silence lingers in the air like bad perfume. "don't look at me like that," leon mumbles softly. this wasn't how the script was supposed to unfold. you finally proved that you had some pride left in you, but he was so quick to shoot you down. everything had unraveled in the worst way possible.

his voice soft and gentle now, abandoning its previous ire. leon's mood always flipped like a light switch, annoyingly so. 

"i'm sorry, doll." apologizing felt like pulling teeth, and to his dismay, it was falling upon deaf ears. leon wasn't cruel, just unbelievably damaged. and unfortunately, you happened to be the best outlet to release that misery onto. it wasn't an excuse for how awfully he treated you, but rather an explanation. 

if you had half a mind you would've ended this charade long before it got to this level—for you, at least. things only seemed to be getting worse, and it was becoming more obvious that this was just a game to leon, while you were smitten. 

"forget it, leon, you should just go." you say lowly. 

"don't be like that." leon didn't want this trip to be a waste. "it's not my fault you're emotionally invested. i thought we made it crystal clear from the start that this wouldn't mean anything. zero commitment, zero obligations." a beat of silence passes, before he adds, "listen, if this is going to be a problem, we should stop this. now." 

he could always find another girl to suit his needs. one that wouldn't cling to his leg like a lonesome child.

"i don't get it," you mumble, eyes finally meeting his. tears dew your lashline, but you wouldn't dare cry in front of him. "it's obvious that you've known for a while that i have feelings for you…" the realization finally creeps in like a cold draft through a cracked window. "you're using me?"

"using you?' he muses, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. leon has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "you women and your emotions." he chides. "how many times is it gonna take for you to get it through that pretty little head of yours? this never meant anything to me. it never will." 

you bite the corner of your lip, pressing down hard, but not enough to bleed. you stood there, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, the cruel words washing over you like vehement waves, trembling hands fumbling with the hem of your shorts, as if seeking refuge from the storm of anger. no had ever made you feel this insignificant before.

leon's lips part slightly, suddenly becoming acutely aware of something you'd rather he didn't figure out. "...you thought i was going to eventually fall for you, didn't you? jesus, i didn't think you were that naïve." he laughs—the first smile he cracked tonight was at your misery. "i almost feel bad."

mr. i'm sorry. mr. i didn't mean that. mr. i'm just tired.

fighting back tears, you hiss, "just leave."

you could slap the smug look right off his face, the air of superiority that clung to him like heavy cologne being enough to piss you off. leon was well aware of the chokehold he held you in—he reaped the benefits of your feelings at every given chance. it felt good having a girl like you always at an arm's reach, spare for the times you'd get all "emotional" and "clingy" on him. 

leon thinks about leaving, the mere idea pissing him off beyond belief—he rode all this way, in the pouring rain no less, just to make you feel like a piece of shit. no kisses, no sex, not even a single touch. deep down, he hated the reflection of his own bitterness that he spewed towards you. he hated how easily his words hurt you, how easily they spilled out of his mouth. this wasn't who he was, or at least, who he once was. after all, you were just a sweet girl who was irrevocably in love with him. 

"fine," he ceases, concealing the anger he felt at his core—you didn't deserve anymore than what you'd already been cursed with tonight. 

pathetically, you watch as he tugs his leather jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves quickly. you feel the urge to apologize bubbling up to the surface, but for what? you hadn't done anything wrong, simply stood your ground, defended what dignity you had left. he doesn't mean any of it, your mind feeds you lies, he's just hurt cut him some slack. 

leon's hand lingers on the doorknob for a second too long, hesitating his next move. your eyes narrow in confusion. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him, each one feeling like a march to the executioner's chopping block. 

"fuck it," leon huffs, hand abandoning the cool metal, and now seeking refuge on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours. this wasn't right, he wasn't thinking straight, clearly lost in a haze of frustration. but he couldn't help himself. you reciprocating the kiss didn't help his case either. 

a soft, content hum left your lips as his mesh onto yours so seamlessly. it's anything but sweet and delicate, rather laced with hunger and raw unadulterated lust. his rough hands smooth up your stomach, your thin tank top riding up in their wake. you can feel the desperation oozing off of his lips, from the way his tongue pushes past the crack of your own lips.

you're like putty in his hands, forgetting all the spiteful things he'd just said to you, only focusing on how good this felt. he inadvertently called you his bitch—any sane person would've happily shoved him out the door, but here you were, melting into his unprompted kiss. the things you do for love.

lips still smothering yours, he mumbles, "this a good enough apology for you, doll?" his breath fans against your skin, mingling with yours as he shoves you up against the nearest wall. 

"mhm," you're thinking with everything but your head, succumbing to the rush that coursed hotly through your veins. "i'm sorry," but leon shuts you up by plunging right back in. he knows you shouldn't have to apologize, but he doesn't care enough to tell you to give it a rest.

"such a sweet girl, always so understanding," he chuckles breathily. your lips were enough to calm his nerves. "i hate hurting you like this, but you just…" his tone grows solemn, but he pushes such thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing solely on making both of you feel good.

his words struck a chord in you. but you just… just what? you don't want to think too hard about it, that could be done in the morning, once your left all alone in a sea of white bedsheets. when the regret of surrendering to your self-indulgence had fully settled in.

sooner rather than later, you're sprawled out beneath leon, stripped down to nothing. a mix of both of your clothing are scattered across your bedroom floor, joining the rest of the pre-existing mess. your skin is slick with a thin layer of sweat, a testament to just how badly leon had you worked up. it's hard to muffle your breathy moans, to which he can only say:

"ah, come on. don't be shy." he teases, tilting his head while placing a sloppy kiss on your rosy lips. a sharp thrust is what finally draws out a loud moan from your lips, his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, "that's my girl."

calloused hands roam all over your soft skin, tracing your every curve, every dip, feeling you in your entirety. you hate how effortlessly he brought you to heaven, how you could feel every inch of him pumping in and out of you. seeing you like this, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted, reminded leon why he hadn't stopped seeing you yet. 

the room is bathed with the sounds of your choked moans and his grunts. his name falls off your lips like its your only prayer, coupled with a slew of desperate pleas. your hands grasp onto his back for support, nails digging crescents into the skin as they drag down, leaving scratches in their wake. 

his hips rolled against yours as his thrusts got messier and rougher, practically slamming in and out of you. your back arches against the memory foam of your mattress, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as you feel his tip kiss against your cervix. 

"fuck, leon, don't stop," your nails dig even deeper into his skin. 

"wasn't planning on it," leon groans, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock. "god, you're so perfect," another wet kiss planted upon your open lips. it's a blessing the bed hadn't given in and snapped yet. 

you're seeing stars at this point, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust, pulled taut like violin strings. it's not until leon hits right there that your eyes snap open, glimmering with pleasure, earning a desperate mewl. a smirk plays on his lips. it was ironic how he could make you feel so awful, so miserable, but simultaneously brought you this. 

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he grunts, hitting that same spot repeatedly, determined to make you cum all over his cock. "yeah, i bet you do. pretty thing like you doesn't deserve any less," sweat drips down his forehead, his hair sticking to it. 

"i'm so close," you whimper, the mattress creaking beneath you. 

"i know you are," leon takes pride in the scrunched up look of pure ecstacy on your face, white hot pleasure shooting through his own veins. 

it only takes a few more thrusts before you cry out his name, mumbling a cluster of curses and pleas as you rode out your high. heaven was always a place on earth with leon—spare for the times the two of you weren't in bed. 

it doesn't take long for leon to finish as well, shooting his load on your stomach, not particularly in the mood for an unwanted pregnancy from a girl he barely cared about. completely out of breath, leon sighs, rolling over to the empty spot next to you on your bed. his back falls against the mattress, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all a vehement maelstrom of regret.

i should've left he thought, eyes flitting over to you, who seemed like she was still on cloud nine. guilt pangs in his heart, no longer left in a lust-filled haze. he can only stare up at the ceiling, almost in a similar manner to the way you did only an hour earlier. 

no one felt post-nut clarity like leon did.

you, on the other hand, felt like a million bucks. your chest rose and fell slowly, reeling back in after your orgasm. but nonetheless, leon's cruel words hit you like a freight train, coming back to you all at once in your state of bliss. the reality of your situation creeps in like a thief in the night. 

all you are is—for lack of better words—his bitch.

as the first light of dawn kisses the horizon, the sun rises gently, painting the sky with hues of gold and rose, awakening the world in a tender embrace. left in nothing but a flimsy pair of lacy panties, you stir around in bed, eyes fluttering open as you take in your surroundings. despite the lack of sleep you got the night prior, the mere sunlight still roused you awake.

and of course, just as you anticipated, there's an empty spot right next to you. just one morning you wished to have strong arms caging you in their embrace. but no.

as long as you kept this charade up with leon, this was all you'd get.

frantically, you swipe your phone off of your nightstand—maybe he sent you a text? disappointment etches onto your face as the pad of your thumb presses the power button, only to be met with a handful of notifications, not a single one from leon.

jesus, you were hopeless.