#sun and dark sun is kinda cool with each other

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Molten/Sun] Honeytrap duo. [Bad End Au] [1]

Summary: [Bad End Au] What would happen if the Creator not only captured Molten, but also captured Sun? It was easy to reprogram Molten, and his unruly eldest son was no less compliant after a while when they were left alone with their own heads. Sun's personality chip has also been damaged quite a bit, but Creator doesn't complain, if that makes Sun more obedient and insistent on listening to Creator like the good son he should be.

This is a relatively distant future, where Dark Sun betrayed Nexus and threw Nexus to Sun as a kind of test to see if Nexus' presence would ruin the Creator's plans or not. (---- Spoiler: It does.)

It would be a lie to say Nexus didn't expect to be stabbed in the back like that.

He's not stupid. Nexus knows that Dark Sun has been playing him like a cricket from the beginning, and the fact that they have a fairly stable alliance to this day is because they both have something they both want from the other.

He just doesn't care, especially when he has so many shiny toys to play with. But it seemed that at the end of the day, Nexus himself went too far, and this 'Sun' couldn't stand him anymore and kicked him out. Nexus chuckled in pain, trying to control the negative star energy that was leaking out of him uncontrollably like a broken water valve, falling to the ground full of gravel and sand.

“I told you, right? Don't let things go too far, don't let anything trace back here. Don't mess with the astral bodies yet. But you didn't listen to me. Again and again.” Dark Sun pondered, staring at him blandly like he was some kind of investment that even though he knew it would fail, he still tried to invest money in it out of curiosity, only to leave a huge capital hole that couldn’t pay it off?

“Like every other Moon, you have to try to let your ego get in the way—”

“I'm not Moon. I am Nexus!” Nexus gritted out every word. The gloomy light in the laboratory became dim, proving that time in this dimension built with Dark Matters was about to run out. Darkness fell on Dark Sun's shoulder, a soft sigh filled the quiet cramped space.

Dark Sun's head tilted to one side, he asked calmly.

“So Nexus, what do you plan to do now? With the way astral bodies seem to be about to discover this place and aim to deal with you?”

“We move. And find another empty dimension. It's that simple.” Nexus waved his hand, he turned away and continued to look at the pile of Wither shards flickering in the glass cage, ignoring the presence of Dark Sun. The lonely white color in each tile somehow still makes Nexus feel dirty and grumpy, and a feeling of excitement still runs along each wire of Nexus like a beast wanting to escape and find someone to let it burn out.

“I think you're missing the point here, Nexus.” Dark Sun stated it slowly, as if trying to explain to a toddler. “Those astral bodies, it's not something that's easy for you to engage with and just ignore them like nothing happened. Even I can't say I can protect you if you keep pulling something like that.”

“Then don't.”

"I'm sorry?" Dark Sun adjusted his glasses, a simple red light flashed as if he was truly curious about what Nexus was saying.

“I said, then don't. I said it from the beginning, right? I don't care.‌ They want to come, so let them come. I can destroy all those worms easily if I want. They are no match for me.” He smirked, he was so tired of not doing this, not being able to do that. It was no different from being at home, no different from being controlled and manipulated once again like a freaking puppet.

“Nexus—”

"Don’t you dare to speak with me like that! I am God now!! Don't you dare underestimate me! Or do you also want to try a little of this kind of power?” Nexus's red eyes flashed with challenge, his hand forming a dark purple-black sphere, thick with death. The wavelengths emitted from the sphere stir up everything around, gradually scattering fine dust particles like a disintegration phenomenon. Papers flew everywhere, even the broken crystals vibrated, resonating with the power of the Nexus.

“I'm just a little worried about you.” Dark Sun said apprehensively, with a tone that completely made Nexus laugh.

"Worry?! Hah!!? Don't make me laugh! I'm here because you need me to research those Wither shards! Don't think I don't know that you went behind my back and colluded with Moon and Solar to try to bring me down.”

Nexus said the two people's names with pure venom. The former disgusted him so much that he wanted to keep them alive to make their life worse than death. The latter gave him a familiar haunting feeling of almost burning guilt, there was also bitterness and jealousy hatred running down his spine when he saw the other immediately clinging to any Moon that offered him comfort. trust.

The threat was clear in the air. Nexus could confidently say that he was the stronger of the two, that now it was Nexus who would be in control. And if Dark Sun wanted to end this meaningless alliance, he would be willing to do so, right now, right here, without any regret.

In the destruction and chaos created in the name of Nexus, Dark Sun still stays blandly. Rather than that, they look like they have been accepted.

“Forgive my words, Nexus.” The purple color in Nexus's hand was retracted by Dark Sun's almost compliant bow. “It's just, you forgot one thing…”

“And what is that?” Nexus raised an eyebrow. He was quite curious to see what Dark Sun had up his sleeve, as this 'Sun' never revealed any valuable information from himself.

“ You are not irreplaceable .”

And suddenly, he couldn't move. Nexus didn't know what the hell Dark Sun had done, but even the negative stellar energy he was trying to tap into right now was completely empty and unusable.

“So you're going to kill me now?” Nexus smiled fiercely, his red eyes staring at Dark Sun, as if wanting to pin that image into his mind, so that if he survived, he would find some horrific way to imprint it on that face. To remind it no one, absolutely no one allows messing around with Nexus.

"No." Dark Sun's hand touched the back of his head, "Killing you really dirty my hands, and I don't think you're valuable enough for me to do it myself."

There was a very faint clicking sound like something was being inserted.

“Hah… So what do you do then?‌ Are you going to throw me back with Moon and Sun and Solar and Lunar so those pathetic worms can kill me themselves? Let me guess, what you put inside me is something that makes me comply, right? Be a good boy for them to dissect like a sheep? You are more pathetic than I thought.” Nexus chuckled, his red eyes flashing with madness. He inevitably couldn't move, because otherwise, that golden head full of rays would be torn off one by one by him like the petals of a chrysanthemum.

‘His other one’ is very sensitive to pain. It made Nexus curious, if he broke that arm, would it make Dark Sun scream?

“I thought so too. Hand you over to Moon, let them deal with you, maybe try to save you. Destroy you. Or hand you over to the Astral Bodies, so you can suffer the punishment you deserve for your stubbornness.” Dark Sun hummed. “But… then, there is someone who wants that honor more. And who am I to refuse a request from a friend?”

“What do you mean?”‌ Nexus narrowed his eyes. Dark Sun has no friends. They were the ones who always claimed they didn't care about anything beyond the eternal vacation of their own vague plans, and suddenly wanted Nexus to believe that there was something or someone for Dark Sun to care about?

Bullshit.

“Yeah, yeah… You might not believe what I said.” Dark Sun took his time, another latching sound rang out after the wires were put back in place. Dark Sun's slow patience, if it weren't for the negative stellar energy that had burned out his sensory system, Nexus was sure he would be going crazy from pain right now. “But it's true, and believe me, you'll soon know who it is. Don't want to spoil the surprise, am I right?

“You should wish I was dead, 'Sun'.” Nexus growls quietly. “Because I'll be glad to split your chest in half when I get back.” The purple vortex appeared before him, just waiting for him to enter, flashing in his eyes like some kind of destiny.

“Haha— Your way of talking always makes me laugh, Nexus. Good threat though. Anyway, tah-tah, Nexus.” Pain shot through Nexus's circuit board, causing him to let out a long scream. Darkness erupted in front of him, blurring his vision to a purple-red hue. It felt like he had lost gravity, as he fell forever in the air. And suddenly, everything disappeared—

***

“I didn't think this would be what 'Dark Sun' was referring to when he said he was going to send me a surprise.” The slightly high-pitched, familiar yet unfamiliar voice, which Nexus had tried to bury in his subconscious, suddenly echoed in his ears.

The blurry light in front of him was a confused Nexus.‌ His system was filled with interference bands, as if trying to restart the software. The equilateral triangles in his system crowed that something was very wrong and demanded to be fixed, something that unfortunately he didn't care much about except for the annoying thing that it prevented him from knowing where the hell he was? The strong antiseptic smell hit the tip of Nexus's nose. A golden light of saffron appeared in his vision, making him want to almost unsure of who that person was.

“Are you friends with Dark Sun?” That was the first thing Nexus said. The only thing Nexus wants to know. He was so tired of the ridiculous empty taunts like how Eclipse wore it to protect themselves, or the fake politeness of the despicable creature called Ruin. What's the point of caring for others when the naked truth is always to prove the best.

“What? Not at all…” The voice laughed nervously. They didn't show any anger or fear or utter disappointment like the last time they faced him, the voice used to be so tired and empty, a fact that Nexus tried to ignore.

“I mean, I guess we have a few drinking parties sometimes. But does that mean we are friends?”‌ Sun – His Sun, the mean old Sun, the one who always looked at him with the shadow of someone else at their eyes' corner, right now looked so small in this bulky, grimacing laboratory. Sun reached out to tap their chin, looking like he was thinking something nonsense.

It was almost like looking at Dark Sun, with the way Sun held themselves and the so false leisure on their faces. Similar but different.

A strange, bitter feeling arose in Nexus's internal organs. The voice in my head that had been asleep for a long time suddenly woke up and screamed. His instincts continuously arose in his racing thoughts, making him unable to help but cringe.

There's something very wrong about Sun—

If Sun's eyes, the most obvious to recognize, which were originally a pure pearl color, one side had turned a toxic pinkish purple, a color too similar to the fragments of the Wither Storm. Then It was a small collar that hugged Sun's neck and wrists so tightly, with smooth black metal lines that almost looked like a dog collar, but also resembled shackles.

“Ah— How awkward…” Sun almost hissed, rambling pathetically. “I haven't prepared what I should say, if I see you again.”

“Or when I will see you again.” Sun added, stuttering. “I don't think Dark Sun really threw you away like a bag of trash like this. Haha… I'm just kidding… "

There was something in that voice that made the anger at Nexus' earlier betrayal suddenly flare up again. The crying voice in Nexus's head screamed, causing his entire body to erupt in pain. He hates this person, he loathes this person so much. The person who doesn't even have any merit, only knows how to cling on to others to do their bidding. 

'You've always been so good at making me feel miserable just by existing.'

Nexus glared at the saffron-colored animatronic, the ominously happy expression on the face of the man who was once his brother made his stomach churn a little. It almost made him want to rush and tear that person's faceplate in half as the overwhelming feeling of anger overwhelmed him.

As if changing without changing at all, they were again on both sides of the rig, with Nexus locked in a cage and Sun standing tall and noble outside.

“What is the meaning of this? Did you come here to gloat? Destroy me? Or have you come here to 'save' me again? Where is your dear brother who let you do this secretly?” 

Nexus sneered. The glasses he was wearing on his head had fallen off somewhere, making Nexus feel extremely naked. He did not know how Sun had a connection to Dark Sun, nor the absence of both Moon and Solar. Surely, they wouldn't let their poor Sunny face the evil Nexus, right?

Speaking of which, how long has it been since he saw Sun? Nexus has attacked Solar, almost killing Moon. He also made Lunar's power seem like child's play, and made Earth watch as he cut the damn crocodile in half. At first he just thought that this coward was hiding somewhere and couldn't bear to see him.

But it seems Nexus's perceived was wrong.

Sun from the beginning has always been here.

And like him, Sun also changed something.

Sun looked confused by his continuous attacks. His pink eyes(?) looked at Nexus vaguely before giggling.

“Oh God, no. Why should I do that?”

“What?”

“I mean, isn't this who you chose to be? I mean you can choose a different name, but if you want to be a completely different person and create an individual identity for yourself, who am I to stop you?”

Sun's voice is still purely a happy tone. There was a mischievous light glinting in those lavender eyes, a vibrancy Nexus had only seen in the early episodes of both Sun and Moon.

“Even though it's true you stabbed me with your promise and the way you used to be.” Sun shrugged. “But it's okay. I'm just going to keep you for a while to cool you down.‌ Then I'll send you back to Moon and Solar. Those two are so worried. I mean, they were pretty scared you were going to do something terrible and wanted to kill you. And killing people is really not my cup of tea either.” Sun raised his finger and then lowered it in worry. “It's not my job anymore, but I guess I still have some responsibility since we were once brothers, hehe?”

Nexus froze.‌ What was Sun saying?

As if feeling Nexus's gaze, Sun blinked their eyes, their hands waving once more.

“Oh, don't look so shocked. It was you who insisted that I be who you despise.‌ And I know you would rather have Solar to be your brother more than me.”‌ Sun scratched his head in awkwardness.

Ignore what Sun was rambling, Nexus interrupted. 

“What do you mean you don't see Moon and Solar anymore?”

He had never understood the nonsense Sun had said when they were still together, and now it still is the same, especially when what Sun was spitting out now was completely opposite to the Sun he used to know.

“Ah yes… You don't know. Hehe–” Sun laughed nervously, “–well I haven't been with Moon and Solar and Lunar for a long time. I'm with my father now.”

“F–Father? What do you mean?"

This room suddenly became quite cold. Blue was painted on Sun's yellow plastic, turning the animatronic face into something creepy like the wailing ghosts in the horror games they used to play—

“Are you my Sun?!” Nexus narrowed his eyes, because his Sun would never upbeat like this. And there's no way they would be this nonchalant for someone who harmed their family.

“Oh yeah. That's me. But guess I don't care anymore, just like you, Nexus.” Sun said bluntly. The liveliness of Sun's mechanical movements suddenly stopped for a split second, before the dim pink light in that eye lit up once more. The two yellow animatronic hands suddenly clapped together, their shoulders puffed out in a ridiculous pose.

“But we're not talking about me now. What we should discuss is what we should do with you.”

"What? Are you going to kill me too for what I've done? Or do you torture me first.”‌ Nexus sneered. He didn't care too much about his own life or death, other than feeling curious about why the current Sunny boy could be so calm compared to someone who was so used to always frozen in tension like this. It feels like their personality chip has been taken away and reset, and what's left inside the machine is just an empty shell that learns to imitate others.

"Nah~~ It is an immoral thing to do, Nexus. I only do those things during my working time, not during my break time.”‌ Sun shook their heads seriously. “Besides, I promised to find you if you tried to escape, right?”

The words rang in his head. Nexus couldn't help but remember their last conversation in that cage. Suddenly, metallic yellow blocked his vision.

Sun's hands gently helped Nexus stand up and placed him on a soft bed. This inability to move was excruciating, and although he could feel that the movement of his joints had smoothed out somewhat over time, this slowness was intolerable.

“I don't know where to hide you. Creator won't like this…” Sun was mumbling. “-- But don't worry!” Sun's face almost shined, the bracelet replaced the red ribbon, hitting the rattling bell with lively sounds. “Surely among these rooms, there will be a room large enough to lock you up. And believe me when i say, it won't be like the last stuper.‌ I guarantee you it will be much nicer and wider. You can even let the light on.”

“And you'll be there, away from everyone for a while. At least before you cool your bald head enough for Moon and the rest of our family to trust you not to take any more risks.” Sun chuckled.

“And don't try to use Negative Star Power or try to escape. The device that Dark Sun installed in your head not only prevents that, but..." Sun sheepishly rubbed their head and spoke quickly. “–you will go boom.”

“What–?!”

Nexus frowned. Blame it on his system not having finished loading since he got here, but the information Sun gave him was enough to give him a headache. What the hell, did this idiot just intend to bring him back and lock him up forever, as if he were a piece of trash, as if there was something wrong with him? No! He can't end like that! He didn't want it to end like this!!---

As if Sun read his thoughts or he spoke out loud, Sun stared at him, their voice sounded so calm and indifferent, a tone he was so familiar with in Dark Sun was now imprinted on his own Sun.

“Because You are dangerous, Nexus. What you do, what you have done and continue to do so. Because you would hurt my family without remorse, although, it would also be your family, if you weren't such a stubborn idiot.” Sun gently poked Nexus on the head, a very friendly gesture, too careful for one person that intently destroy Sun’s happy life—

“That's not my brother anymore…” Sun's pained voice echoed through the hallway, hitting Nexus's chest with painful blows. An urge made him want to call Sun back, scream that he was sorry, but the stubborn half, the half that he had given up everything for, said that it was better. It would be better if Sun hated him, it would be better if he had no one else to care about.

Because Nexus knew if there was one person who would never give up on him, it would be Sun.

And he hates that. He craves that. He prouds at it.

A mechanical clicking movement was heard from outside as Nexus flinched in surprise. Sun, sure he doesn't care much, but if what Sun said is true then it could be the Creator.‌ And God knows what that old brain would do to him if that bastard knew he was here.

Turns out, Nexus’s guess was wrong. Coming in from the outside, is a shaggy bear with endoskeleton wires stumbling anywhere. Its eyes lit up, a mixture of red-orange and green, staring at the Nexus’s inexistent soul.

"Oh? Is that Moon, Sun?”

“I am Nexus .” Nexus growled loudly. He was so sick of having to correct these mediocrities over and over again. If it weren't for the fact that he was neutralizing it right now, he would definitely blow that idiot's head up to match its monstrous appearance.

“What????? No way!!" Sun's voice almost reached an octave. “You looked wrong Molten, see, there's no one here!! It's just a new… cat I got!!” Sun quickly covered Nexus with a sheet, and even though he could only see very dimly, through the hole in the fabric, he could still see very clearly the way the idiot was puffing their shoulders in a very proud stupid way.

"OH. I got it. The cat is really big.” Molten nodded, surprisingly, he didn't even look at Nexus anymore, just focused on looking at Sun kindly, the wires bent like a cat's tail, hovering around Sun's body. The eyes, which were focused on Nexus a few seconds ago, turned completely to observe the saffron-colored animatronic, causing Nexus to suddenly erupt in an unreasonable anger from nowhere. Surprisingly, Sun seemed quite comfortable when his whole body was entangled in the iron disgusted spaghetti.

“So what are you looking for me for, Molten? I thought the only joy you had was standing in a corner doing nothing?” Sun grimaced, they still stood in front of Nexus, deliberately acting natural. Sometimes they even turned around to shush him down. It felt weirdly as if he was participating in some kind of damn comedy that Nexus had no script for.

“It's funny. It is really hilarious!!” Nexus laughed, his body constantly trying to move, causing the clocks inside to spin around. The heat is on. “You always criticize and show disappointment in me, oh Moon, oh Moon, why did you hurt our family like that but look at yourself ?!!!” His hysterical laughter was too loud, too painful. He tried to look at Sun's face to see if there was any devastation but surprisingly, there was nothing.

“You followed someone who wanted to take your younger brother for a dissection!! What did he offer you??” Nexus grabbed the fabric and twisted Sun's hips, causing them to stumble and fall backwards. He tried with all his might to firmly pin his claws on Sun's shell, to tear that thing off, to show Sun that he should not be underestimated.

But Nexus is too weak. Or his system is still overloaded. He only had enough strength to scratch Sun's outer skin a little before he stopped moving completely.

Sun sat on the ground, groaning pitifully. But there wasn't a single ripple, even now.‌ Sun's lack of expression stunned him to the point where he couldn't speak.

“Are you okay, Sun?”

“It hurts so much. I think some of my screws are broken.” Sun frowned and stood up. They turned towards Nexus, took a deep breath as if to say something before turning away in exasperation.

“Hmm…‌Maybe that will make you less jumpy.” Molten shrugged, ignoring the childishly disapproving look from Sun. “But the Creator called you, Sun. We have a mission to do. Right now.” Molten's monotone voice rang out, causing Sun's body to stiffen. Their naturally cheerful and worried expression seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Sun blinked, their hands touching their head gently in what seemed like something was gangrene inside.

“Um… I guess we should hurry up and not keep father waiting. But-"

“Your cat is safe, Sun. There are no monitoring devices in this room, and it seems that your 'cat' itself emits some kind of energy that prevents any machine from sensing it."

All of Molten's eyes once again stared at Nexus, giving him goosebumps. A look that would have torn him in half if it weren't for Sun's presence blocking the way.

“Oh, you're so clever, Molten!” Sun admired. “Why do you know that?” Their hands swung up, shaking the metal coil that could break their bodies at any moment.

“I don't know.”‌ Molten shrugged again. “It's just there.”

“Someday you will need to give me a real logistic answer rather than I don’t know, Molten!”‌ Sun pouted. They turned to look at Nexus, the bell ringing in his ears.

“Hmm… Let me see… For now, please stay here, Nexus. I... have to go on an extremely important mission for my father! And I guess you need sometime to rest too.”

Sun removed the blanket covering Nexus and placed it on him despite his protests.

He hates Sun. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of being weak again. He ignored the fact that after everything that had happened, it was still Sun who was by his side in the end, it was still Sun who brought such a false sense of peace that level of frustration scared him to death.

Nexus' screams were still there, only fading when Sun closed the lab door. A gloomy moss covered both of them, as they moved across the metal floor in silence. The dark hallway had only the harsh sound of their footsteps hitting the floor, especially Sun, who was still whistling a cheerful tune, hauntingly gliding through the weeping willows as they crossed fast flowing water under the bridge.

Is it the Creator's interest to design the lab as a cheap version of Dr. Eggman video games? Sun doesn't know and doesn't care. It is just…

“Is there something you want to say, Molten?”

The bear didn't ask right away, or be curious about Nexus, which was strange. Especially when they most often are so loyal to the Creator first, and Sun second, simply because Sun is their partner in crime. Sure, they were very close friends, but Molten's loyalty lay with the Creator deep into programming.

It's not that Sun isn't like that, but the code installer in Sun's software is much more disengaged. Surely the terrible pain from not completing the task as well as the brain fog while resting were still there, along with the cruel urge that made him want to please his father. But the lack of a personality chip makes things quite easy for him to handle.

Sun chuckled, wondering if this is him having a more upgraded  version of Forgor than Earth's?

“I won't ask if you don't want to tell me, Sun.” Molten tilted their head, a rope wrapped around Sun's arm, tapping his shoulders gently. It caused a slight feeling of guilt mixed with warmth to spread in Sun's heart before it disappeared, like every other emotion Sun often felt before.

“Thank you Molten. Honestly, I feel a bit worried.” Sun started rambling. “I'm not sure if you would think me hiding the Nexus as a form of betrayal to our father? Because… well I still feel a little guilty about Nexus, you know? About how he became like this? Like, you understand what I mean right? You have to do what you promised, even though it's not your obligation anymore." Sun gently stared into nothingness, the pink color gradually fading back to a fresh yellow color. Molten somehow liked this yellow color better, even their internal programming constantly told them to report this to the Creator if they saw anything unusual in Sun, like this.

“Creator will get mad.” Molten mused. Their creator has never had a good attitude. Sun laughed nervously, rubbing his hand that had been cut off and replaced, a result of failing in a certain mission. Not having emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain. Although, the excitement of not having any negativity in the way sometimes still makes Sun do something stupid, like intentionally disobeying the Creator.

“Yeah… But it's okay! I guess if I do something really good, father will agree to let me keep Nexus without doing anything to him!” Sun snapped his fingers like two guns, leveling them toward Molten's face.

“Even if it means bringing Lunar back here?” Molten asked quietly. They failed twice in this mission, but fortunately Sun made up for it by finding one more shard.

Although this was not enough for the Creator to not break all the pieces of Sun's body in the simulation for hours.

Sun was silent for a moment, then he smiled, his eyes shining lavender.

"Of course! Because that's an order. But..." Sun gently looked down at the dark water surface, flowing slowly under the bridge. “I believe Moon and Solar won't let me do that.”

“Do you still care about them?” Curiosity reflected in Molten's voice, it made Sun's eyes fall into ecstasy...

"I do not know. Obviously I can't feel anything..." His hands suddenly covered his face. There was a shaky sound coming from his voice box as if Sun was laughing and having a panic attack at the same time. “But for them, I still can't help but feel a little care. By some kind of pure instinct or such craps I still feel responsible for them. It was so painful and at the same time… it was nothing…”

“If it was the Creator's request, of course I would still do it without hesitation but…”

“To think in such a twisted way toward my family, I feel like I'm not worthy of them anymore, Molten…”

Sun's smile was too pale and weak, a bland indifference floated in Sun's tone, revealing the fact that from the beginning, all he showed was just a program that his AI copied from what he remembers how he used to act. About the fact that when The Thing finished his job, a part of Sun gradually disappeared. Of course he still tries to make his essence float, but some days, Sun's greatest satisfaction is just to follow the Creator's orders and let the family love he cherishes so much drift into the past.

There was a writhing pain that appeared in Sun's chest, as if it wanted to crush him and carry him away. Not feeling anything made him become so desperate. He doesn't want that, he wants to feel angry, he wants to feel this hatred like before. He wants the inherent anxiety that is a part of him not to be instantly extinguished, he wants his emotions to return to his own control. He wanted to become Sun again, no matter how much he hated his own pathetic nature self. He couldn't stand the false sense of ambiguity towards everything like a storm trying to take Sun away and break it in half—

He wants to care and wants to return to his own family, he doesn't want to be here-----

Sun pressed his face against Molten. The purple-pink light appeared again, making Sun blink.

“Oops… Thinking too much again…” Sun released his hands, his eyes still staring blankly at nothing, unable to let go. It made Molten feel uncomfortable, they didn't like seeing Sun like this, and for a moment, a very ancient image with a nervous but sincere laugh that belonged to the yellow animatronic flashed through the bear's foggy mind.

“You're fine, Sun. You are like my Bonbon. I don't want someone else to be my partner. Not if it is not you.” Molten pleaded, clinging to Sun like he was a lifeline, like Sun is something important.

The two people's eyes stared at each other. Sun smiled hollowly, his eyes glowing sunny yellow before disappearing in mauve. Darkness covered the two of them like a monster's greedy mouth, two lonely creatures that only knew how to cling themselves to each other to survive now.

“You are so terrible to compare me to that bunny, Molten. I am much better than a Bonbon.”

Summary below.

[kamaluhkhan]

LOVE, VIOLET

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 12.9k summary: history might say that you and vi were only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated. (or: you and vi celebrating valentine's day warning: friends to lovers arc, lots of sapphic yearning, brief mention of homophobia and bullying....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and sappy lesbian monologues and lots of smut [oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), thigh riding, strap usage(r! receiving), needy+possessive! vi and slightly (?) dom! reader] (18+) ! a/n: happy (belated oops) valentine's day girls and gays <33 been working on this for a while and hoped to get it out like....actually in time for love day but such is life. ANYWAYS this is set in the same universe as this x-mas themed fic (and kinda a modern au of this one?? reader has the same nickname and there's a friends to lovers arc so....). hope y'all enjoy!!!!

♪: "glue song" by beabadoobee ft. clairo (sun); "home by now" by MUNA (moon); "love is a kaleidoscope" by chappell roan (rising)

also - header image was cropped from a gifset from @arcanegifs , pls check out their beautiful work !!!

track 1: “feeling you” by cat burns

(now)

"fuck, vi," you moan as her tongue splits your folds. "we don't have time for this...."

you have to get to studio and vi has to get to work, but the combination of the hot water hitting your skin and vi’s mouth on your cunt was something you did not want to give up just yet — even if you didn't want to admit it.

"baby," vi pouts, looking up at you innocently, as if she wasn't the one who decided to push you against the tile wall and get on her knees in front of you. "it was your idea to shower together this morning.”

"well, sorry for wanting to save water," you breathe, your grip tightening on her hair when she wraps her lips around your clit. "the planet is dying."

vi pulls away from you once more, lips shining with your slick. "well, excuse me for thinking you wanted to start today with a bit of romance. if all you care about is the environment...." she gets up and reaches behind you to turn off the water. "we better get going, pretty girl."

you whine at the sudden loss of warmth and clench your thighs together at the nickname, something that does not go unnoticed by vi. she licks her lips before leaning forward to kiss you, your back pushed against the cool tile once more and the taste of yourself faint on her tongue.

hearing your alarm go off reminds you that there are other responsibilities you each have to attend to. reluctantly, the two of you dry off and make your way to your shared bedroom. you put on a fuschia boyshort / bralette combo (your favorite set because, yes, it matches your girlfriend’s hair) before slipping on some dark jeans and a heart-printed turtleneck, and moving on to your makeup. in the meantime, vi had been in the kitchen making coffee, and reemerges now with two mismatched mugs. she sets one on the desk next to you, kisses the top of your head before getting herself ready for the day. 

you swipe some eyeliner on your waterline, watching in the mirror as vi searches in the closet for something to wear, still only dressed in black briefs and a sports bra. you smile as you see the stars tattooed on her upper thigh, sparkling with every movement she makes. once she picks out an outfit, her eyes catch yours.

"what?" she asks with a lazy grin, slipping on a tight black henley.

you smile, adding some pink glitter to your eyelids. 

it’s only been two weeks since you’ve moved into this new place. there are still plenty of unpacked boxes, and you still get a bit lost navigating around the neighbourhood, but otherwise, it’s been a dream. 

you love seeing your clothes woven together in the same closet; you love waking up with her arm around your waist, doing laundry together, and coming home to vi having tried a new recipe for dinner. you love how you sometimes wear each other’s rings because you keep them all in a pile on the nightstand, how she falls asleep with her head in your lap during movie night, how her skin smells like the rose body wash you picked out together at lush. 

you love this — this home you’re starting to build. you’ve known vi for so long, but your lives are intertwined now more than ever.

"nothing," you respond, finishing with a layer of vanilla lip gloss. "want me to do your eyeliner?”

it’s a familiar position: vi sits on the edge of the bed while you straddle her hips. she leans forward and presses a kiss to your sternum before you hold her chin between your thumb and pointer finger.

“so….tomorrow’s valentines day,” vi suddenly points out, though, really, you didn’t need the reminder.

you’d spent these past few years apart and this is your first valentine’s day since the break-up. 

you both agreed — no pressure — but…..there’s definitely a bit of pressure. you’d been working on your gift for her for weeks, and you’re really hoping that she likes what you’ve planned.

“i thought it would be nice to get dinner tonight at bacchus. i called earlier this morning and got us a reservation for 7:30.”

you hum in appreciation.

vi might be taking a break from the band, but she’s still the violet lanes, the pink-haired rockstar of every lesbian’s dreams who’s written award-winning songs and sold out entire football stadiums. there are new perks of being her girlfriend this time around, like a nice apartment in new york and getting a day-of-reservation at the most expensive italian restaurant in the city. 

“valentine’s day is tomorrow,” you repeat, a playful lilt to your words. you swipe your thumb near the corner of vi’s eye where you’d smudged an otherwise sharp wing of eyeliner. “someone’s eager to get a head start.” 

with that, you snap the tube closed, press a kiss to the tattoo on vi’s cheek, and get up to gather your things for studio. you’re tucking your sketchbook into your messenger bag when you feel vi’s strong arms wrap around your middle.

“you always said i was impatient,” she teases. you can feel her smirk against the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your skin and whispering: “can you blame me, stargirl? for wanting to get dressed all fancy and go somewhere nice and romantic with the prettiest girl in the world?” 

“of course not.” you crane your neck back until your lips practically brush against hers as you speak. “except, you’re the prettiest in the world, baby.”

a beautiful blush spreads across vi’s freckled cheeks, the way it always has whenever you comment on vi’s beauty.  

she clears her throat, still a bit flustered. “agree to disagree?”

you pretend to think about it for a second, nudging your nose against hers. “agree to disagree,” you reply, teasing her by continuing to hover above her lips, just a sliver of air between you. 

yeah, vi’s impatient — but, sometimes, you love it. like, right now, when she turns you around to face her so she can close the gap, deepening the kiss by sliding her tongue into your mouth without any preamble.

vi groans as another alarm goes off from your phone. "i will never get used to how many alarms you set."

you giggle, and pull away slightly to swipe the cancel button. vi takes the opportunity to move your shirt slightly and leave bites on your exposed collarbone. you check the time on your phone.

you can spare a little more time. it is valentine’s day, after all. 

(age 13)

“vi, your precious stargirl is on the phone for you!”

at the mention of your nickname, vi flinches, inadvertently failing to dodge a lethal attack. green goblin crashed his glider into her spiderman avatar, and the words GAME OVER fill the screen in an angry red font. 

vi groans, throwing her playstation controller on the couch before heading to the kitchen.

powder is sitting on the counter, twirling the telephone cord around her finger and yapping away before vi takes her place.

“hey.” vi clears her throat, tries to sound casual. “what’s up?”

“so, my mom promised to make something for ekko’s valentine’s class party, but she just got called in for a shift….which means i’m stuck baking 30 rainbow confetti cupcakes, and hoping i don’t give any eight year olds food poisoning. you doing anything right now?”

“oh - i’m actually, uh, busy! i have homework, and….”

and she’s busy avoiding you, ever since she heard something about you — from drea, of all people — and wondered why you wouldn’t confide in her, your supposed best friend. 

“please, vi,” you coax. vi’s heart beats a bit quicker as she pictures your bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “can you come over and help me bake? it feels like forever since we’ve actually hung out. i miss you.”

vi is certainly not god’s strongest soldier when it comes to you, so of course, she caves. rainbow confetti cake is her favorite, so that’s a bonus. she and powder throw on their coats and head next door to yours; powder and ekko keep each other company in the living room while vi joins you in the kitchen.

“hey,” she greets. 

“there you are!” your face lights up with the sweetest smile, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flap up a storm. 

gods — do you realize the effect you have on her? 

there’s already flour dusting your cheek; vi has to resist the urge to brush it away with her thumb, wanting to feel how soft your skin must be. 

she snaps out of it though, as you instruct her on what needs to be done, and the two of you work in a comfortable silence, the sounds of your siblings watching cartoons in the other room filling the space between you. at one point, probably realizing that vi isn’t in the mood for talking, you switch on the radio. vi catches you smiling at her as she hums along to freddie mercury, but you’re quick to blink away and get back to work.

you’re sifting confectioner’s sugar into room temperature butter for the icing while vi slides the first batch of cupcakes in the oven, starts prepping the second, her mind starting to wander.

you and vi are playing the leads for your final english project, where you have to reenact scenes from romeo and juliet. powder caught the two of you rehearsing last week, and spent the whole night singing that stupid playground chant. now vi can’t get it out of her head: you and her, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G — 

“the rumor’s not true, by the way,” 

vi looks at you as she pours batter into another cupcake liner, which accidentally overflows onto the counter. 

“shit,” she groans, but you slide over to the other side of the kitchen counter to bring her a towel. 

you don’t elaborate on what you’ve just brought up as you wipe up the thick batter. vi figures you’re waiting for her to say something.

“what rumor?”

it was never vi’s instinct to play pretend with you, but frankly she had no idea what else to do without letting her emotions burst into flames and inevitably burn you.  

“vi,” you sigh. “i know you’ve heard it. the whole school has. it’s not true, though. i wasn’t kissing james.”

oh. the spark of envy in her gut simmers down. 

“did he ask you to the sweetheart dance?”

you shake your head, and the spark extinguishes completely. “even if he did….i wouldn’t want to go with him.”

“why’s that? not your type?”

you finish wiping the counter, and vi takes the now-sticky towel from you to rinse it out in the sink. as she does this, you get back to frosting duty, stirring in some pink food colouring. 

“drea saw me kissing someone with dark brown hair,” you explain. “so isabel started told her that it was james, and that’s what she’s been telling everyone. but really….it was her.”

vi blinks at you. “her?”

“yeah, her,” you smile hesitantly. 

“you were kissing isabel?”

isabel was the prettiest girl in eighth grade — though, according to vi, you’d have that ranking, and it would go way beyond the scope of your middle school. you’re the prettiest girl in the world; not that vi would ever have the courage to tell you that.  

you nod. “you’re not, like, weirded out that i like kissing girls, are you?”

“what? no, of course not! especially since….i, uh, i like kissing girls too.”

in theory. vi likes to imagine kissing girls, especially when they look like korra from the legend of korra, or shego from kim possible, or hayley kiyoko in lemonade mouth.

or….you.

vi watches intently as you — a very pretty, very real girl — swipe your finger through the fluffy pink frosting and taste it, flashing her a sugary smile. 

“good to know.”

(age 16)

when josie asked her out, vi had completely neglected the fact that dinner on friday would mean dinner on february 14th. 

which is how vi finds herself getting ready for a date with someone she met during your short-lived attempt at starting an all female fight boxing club. josie is sweet and vi felt bad cancelling on her, so like the gentleman she is, vi promised to pick her up at 7:30pm. on friday, february 14th. 

it’s 6:44pm, and vi is in your room. you helped her pick out an outfit — something nice but not too formal — and you’ve moved on to makeup, carefully applying her eyeliner. 

vi tries not to stare at your lips — which are slightly red from the cinnamon hearts you’ve been eating — so she keeps squirming, and you keep gently guiding her chin towards you. her eyes wander to your decorated walls, filled with posters and photos and other things you’ve collected throughout the years. she’s featured in quite a few, and she catches a glimpse of an old valentine card she’d given you in elementary school.

“it’s weird that we won’t be spending valentine’s day together,” you comment as though reading her mind. 

you’d never spend the holiday as anything other than friends, but it does still feel strange, not spending it with someone she knows for sure she loves. 

(again — like a friend loves a friend.)

“yeah, definitely,” vi agrees. “do you have anything planned for tonight?”

“huge plans, actually.” you pop another cinnamon heart in your mouth. “i’ve got a super romantic date with the prettiest girl in the world.”

vi tilts her head in confusion — did you mention this to her? — which causes you to shake your head with a lighthearted laugh and guide her towards you once more.

“really? with who?”

you roll your eyes. “i’m kidding!” 

“oh.”

“it’s cute how gullible you are,” you whistle. by now, you’re done with her eyes and move on to dusting her cheeks with some sort of shimmery powder. “i’m probably just gonna put on a rom-com and finish — well, start — writing my english essay on romantic literature. lowercase ‘r,’ because ms. chavez was feeling festive. i’m leaning more modernist, but that’s only because i want to write about virginia woolf.”

it’s inching towards when vi should leave, but vi doesn’t care what time it is — she’d listen to you talk forever if she could.

“what’s it about?”

you pull away to examine vi’s makeup one last time.

“the movie, or my essay?” you nod once in approval and give the compact you’re holding to vi so she can take a look. “you look beautiful, by the way.”

vi watches her reflection blush, almost enhanced by the makeup you put on her. 

“thanks, stargirl.” vi clears her throat and decides to get back to your original conversation. “the movie and your essay, i guess.”

you offer vi a cinnamon heart, which she accepts, the candy burning sweet on her tongue. you then reach into your backpack, for the ring pop that vi had left in your locker this morning, just before you handed her a box of rainbow confetti cupcakes. you slip the candied jewellery onto your right ring finger before answering.

“i want to analyse the letters between virginia woolf and this other writer — vita sackville-west. they’re essentially love letters, but, you know.” you give an exaggerated shrug. “history says they were only best friends. at least, according to ms. chavez’s interpretations, along with most of the class.”

vi chuckles. “thankfully, you’re here to prove them all wrong.”

“exactly.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, the feeling of your body familiar next to hers. “and, for the movie, i’m thinking when harry met sally, which i remember watching with you for the first time.” 

vi definitely remembers watching that with you, too. the whole question of whether or not men and women can be friends without romance getting in the way brought up another, much more relevant question in vi’s mind: can two sapphic women be friends without any complicated feelings?

it’s definitely possible.

“so….you excited for this date?”

vi shrugs. “yeah.”

“wow. i totally believe that,” you say, words dripping with sarcasm. 

“it’s just….it’s valentine’s day,” vi whispers. she starts fiddling with one of her rings — you’d gotten it for her last valentine’s day, a silver thumb ring with a star in the middle. “what if she wants to kiss me tonight?”

“well, you kiss her back, if that’s what you want.” 

“that’s what i want,” she responds, way too quickly to be true. “it’s just — i’m not sure i’ll be any good.”

“you’ll be fine,” you assure. 

“but — i mean, i’ve never…..”

“oh.” your eyes widen and your lips part in shock, the blue-raspberry of the ring pop turning them from red to purple that’s intoxicatingly close to violet. “oh.”

“what! it’s not, like the end of the world.”

“of course not! it’s just — you’ve gone out with a bunch of girls, so i just figured….”

vi shakes her head, her cheeks heating up. “guess i never found the right one. i know it’s cliche, but i kinda wanted my first kiss to be —” 

“special?” you guess, and vi nods.

“and now, there’s all this pressure, i’m worried that i won’t be good.”

you clear your throat. “right. well, if it helps relieve the pressure….i could show you….how.”

“show me?”

“well — i mean, like teach you, i guess. plus, then i can let you know whether you’re, like, a good kisser or not.”

that’s how you find yourself practically in vi’s lap, slotting your lips between hers. it started off with a quick peck, but clearly, you’ve both decided that this lesson requires a bit more. 

every single one of vi’s senses is heightened: the stickiness of your glossed lips, the sugar on your tongue, the giggles rumbling through you and bouncing down vi’s throat. time seems to slow down — no, freeze entirely — which is a stark contrast to the burning in her lungs.

needing air, vi pulls away. 

“h-how was that?” she breathes, her words warming your mouth. 

“good.” you smile, almost shy. you’re so close together that vi can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. “maybe….a bit gentler this time.”

“gentler?”

“slower,” you suggest. 

so, you kiss again. gentler, this time.

“your lips are a bit chapped,” is your next note. you reach for the tube of lip gloss in your pocket. “can i?”

“go ahead, stargirl,” vi whispers. “you’re the expert.”

you paint a layer of sticky vanilla glitter onto vi’s lips.

“there,” you sit back after swiping your thumb underneath vi’s bottom lip. 

vi blinks at you. her lips feel like they’re coated in honey. “how do i look?”

“really pretty,” you reply, with a small smile. you sigh, glancing at the scooby-doo alarm clock on your nightstand, the one you’ve had since you were six years old. “you better go. have a good time with josie, okay?”

“okay.” vi gets up and grabs her jacket, tugs on her shoes. “and, thanks again for, well, you know.”

you shrug. “that’s what best friends are for. happy valentine’s, vi.”

vi hesitates just as she’s about to climb out your window. “look, stargirl, i don’t have to – i mean, i’m perfectly happy canceling my, uh, date, and just hanging out with you.”

“you’re sweet, vi, but i’ll be fine. go — have fun.” you walk closer to her so you can slip your tube of lipgloss into vi’s button down shirt pocket. you pat her chest affectionately. “and remember to be gentle, yeah?” 

later, when she’s making out with josie in the backseat of her dad’s car, vi tries not to think about your soft voice guiding her through the movements, or the dizzying taste of your lips — cinnamon hearts and sour candy and sweet, sweet vanilla.

history might say that you and vi are only best friends, but the real story is much more complicated.

___

[image: a cartoon scooby-doo, holding a bouquet of hearts. the message reads: BE MY VALENTINE!]

to: stargirl <3

from: vi

___

track 2: “you’re my best friend” by queen 

(age 7)

“mom?”

“yeah, kiddo?”

“can you be in love with your best friend?”

her mom, felicia, smiles knowingly, the question hanging in the air until the end of song. it’s part of an old mixtape that felicia plays sometimes, mostly glam rock like queen and david bowie. she put it on this afternoon while her and vi get ready for the valentine’s class party tomorrow. vi scribbles names on cards while her mom fills clear heart-printed bags with candy. powder’s fallen asleep on her lap. 

“definitely,” felicia finally answers, reaching over to tap vi’s nose playfully. “love, violet, can be a million different things. that’s the fun part.” 

felicia pinches vi’s cheek affectionately. vi frowns, thinking about this whole love thing. 

love is definitely not the next classmate whose name she’s writing — drea, who always cheats during sports and teases vi for being a tomboy. she’s tempted to just leave her out, but the policy of ms. julie’s second grade class is that everyone needs to get a valentine. so, that’s not love, either. 

instead, vi thinks of her family — her mom, vander, powder, and even ekko; movie nights and lively dinners and warm hugs. she thinks of her friends — mylo and claggor; laughter and skinned knees and running so fast it feels like flying. 

when she thinks of you, though, her heart beats differently.

vi thinks about how you always carry around a spiderman bandaid because she always scrapes herself during recess, and the nurse only carries plain, boring bandages. she thinks about how you ‘accidentally’ spill paint on drea’s art project after she calls vi mean names.

she thinks about how you doodle on her arms during math or braid her hair as you watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal on saturday mornings. 

she thinks about the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear, the perpetual marker stains on your hands, the dimple on your cheek.

you’re her best friend, and your smile alone wakes up a million butterflies in her stomach.

vi’s mom suggested spiderman valentine’s cards, but vi wanted to pick out something that you’d like; vi knows that scooby-doo is your favorite show, so that’s what she went with. she adds a ring pop to your bag of candy, because she knows they’re your favorite candy. she adds a little heart by your nickname, too.  

the next day, everyone is decorating their shoeboxes, transforming them into mailboxes before exchanging valentines. vi’s hands are sticky with glitter glue when you walk over — ms. julie said that you and vi distracted each other, so she assigned you to desks on opposite sides of the room. 

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you say, sliding a card into her mailbox and smiling ear to ear before moving on to the next person. vi eagerly reaches in for the valentine. 

it’s spiderman-themed, and there’s a heart next to her name. 

(now) 

when you walk through the door, you’re engulfed in the scent of warm garlic bread and sweet, ripe tomatoes. the restaurant is bustling with waiters delivering colourful dishes, everyone wearing crisp suits and silk dresses. someone’s playing piano, soft music dancing throughout the room, and the overhead lights are dimmed, with each table illuminated by a candle in the centre.

the maître d' greets you with a welcoming smile and settles you into a table. once they’re gone, vi reaches across the table for your hand. 

“you look beautiful, stargirl.”

vi’s skin is always warm, but the cool metal of her thumb ring sends a shiver through you as she brushes over your knuckles. the flame between you flickers, darkening vi’s powder blue eyes as she gazes at you lovingly.

“you let me borrow your clothes,” you point out. “i’m wearing one of your suits.”

“what can i say….” vi winks, releasing your hand so she can open the menu in front of her. “i have good taste. looks better on you, anyways.”

“were you always this much of a flirt?” you tease.

vi smirks. “like a fine wine, i just get better with age.”

“you are so corny,” you say with a slight laugh.

“well, some people do think my love songs are cheesy.”

“even the ones written about me?”

vi looks up from her menu, one eyebrow raised. “baby, they’re all about you.”

your cheeks heat up at vi’s confession, and you take a sip from your glass, ice water trickling down your throat, in hopes of steadying your heartbeat.

a waiter comes by; you each order pasta dishes and vi orders a bottle of wine for the table. the wine arrives quickly, but given how busy the restaurant is, you anticipate the food will take longer. 

you fill the time easily, catching each other up on the details of your lives since this morning. you start by telling her how hectic your art studio has been as you prepare for your big spring exhibition, but how excited everyone is. you’re especially excited since you get to explore different mediums along the way; these past few weeks, you’ve been learning how to use a pottery wheel. you went through the final step of the process today — glazing — and you’re happy at the end product. 

“i don’t think i’m gonna include it in my exhibit, though,” you conclude. 

“well, it’d be nice to have some of your art on display all the time.” vi smiles. “you should bring whatever you made home.” 

“that’s the idea,” you muse, a twinkle in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “how was your day?”

vi started teaching guitar at the local community centre. some adults take lessons, but it’s mostly little kids with too much energy and too little patience. still, no matter how chaotic it can be, it’s clear that vi has been loving her job.

“i swear, this one girl, marceline, is a budding rockstar. i taught her a jimi hendrix song and she picked it up —” vi snaps her fingers, smiling proudly. “like that. such a talented kid.”

“you would know, pretty girl,” you praise.

your waiter arrives to bring plates full of pasta. you and vi thank them, your stomach grumbling at the delicious smell, a reminder that you had barely eaten all day. you’re so ready to dig into some quality fettuccine alfredo.

you and vi eat in a comfortable silence, until you hear an unfortunately familiar voice grate at your ears:

“oh my god, it is you! i saw you from the other side of the restaurant and just had to come over and say hi!”

you don’t need to glance to know who it is, but you do anyways, and so does vi. your stomach drops as you watch her bite back a scoff before turning back to her food.

“hi, drea,” vi clips before taking a big gulp of wine. she continues eating, barely sparing the woman another glance.

drea continues to hover. she’s wearing dark lipstick, her black hair cut into a classic bisexual bob, and her amber eyes silently pleading at you to break the ice. 

“hey, drea,” you greet with a stiff smile, and drea relaxes her shoulders at your veil of friendliness.

“nice earrings,” she winks, reaching over to tap the dangling purple gem. “thought you might have gotten rid of them after we broke up.”

vi chokes on a sip of wine. “broke up?” vi coughs, reaches for her water glass. “since when did you two date?”

you open your mouth to respond, but drea beats you to it, clearly too focused on being the centre of attention.

“maybe like a year or so ago.” drea turns to you. “right, starlight?”

vi’s jaw clenches, and she drops her fork, metal clattering against the plate.

“starlight?”

“yeah, because of the star-shaped birthmark behind her —”

“i know,” vi snaps. her eyes are locked on you, and slightly glazed over. “you never told me you dated drea.”

“i-it was only 3 months,” you stutter.

“that hurts,” drea groans, clutching her heart. she always did have a flair for the dramatic. “it was 4 months, babe.”

“you dated for 4 months, and i’m just hearing about it now?” vi seethes, trying to keep her voice low. the tables around you have already taken note that something is happening, though, their conversations hushing down to an idle whisper. “did you somehow forget how much of an asshole she was in high school?”

“um, i’m right here?” drea chides, still not taking the hint that neither of you are interested in a happy reunion.

“we need a minute,” you and vi say simultaneously. drea rolls her eyes and mutters something you don’t care to hear; you’re too concerned with explaining yourself to vi, whose cheeks are burning with a deep shade of red. whether it’s jealousy, anger, or embarrassment, you’re not quite sure.

“vi, just let me —” 

you reach out for her hand, but as soon as you make contact, vi pulls away abruptly.

“i…i need….to not be here right now,” vi mutters. the last thing she wants is to make headlines tomorrow morning — violet lanes, caught having argument with girlfriend at upscale restaurant during on valentine’s eve. flip to page 6 for the full story! — so, she gets up and slips on her jacket. 

“please, baby, let’s talk about this —”

“order dessert, if you want. don’t rush home.”

her voice cracks at that last word before she storms out the door, leaving you with two unfinished meals and stomach heavy with regret. 

___

[image: notebook opened to a page filled with chaotic, scribbled writing]

FOR STARGIRL (FINAL DRAFT!!! COME UP WITH TITLE LATER!??!!)

i’m stuck on you, baby

you taught me what love is

sugary sweet kisses,

frosting on your lips;

first tattoos,

promises on our skin

i’m stuck on you, baby

have been since we were kids

you’re not just the sun or the moon

you’re all my stars

know that i’ll love you

wherever we are

___

track 3: “true romantic” by indigo girls

(age 18)

the auditorium is decorated with red and pink streamers, heart garlands and bouquets of roses. a red spotlight shines on the stage, painting each performer with a pink hue. there are small tables and chairs arranged to make the space feel more like a parisian cafe, instead of where drama club rehearses for the spring musical.

you’re sitting at one of the tables, inhaling all the free coffee and pastries you possibly can and chatting with viktor and jayce, like you’ve done for the past three years at your highschool’s annual valentine’s day coffeehouse. 

the first time vi performed, during your freshman year, she was all nerves, her fingers fumbling at chords and voice trembling through the lyrics of a joan jett song she had played for you perfectly that morning. when her eyes landed on yours in the crowd, you gave her a thumbs-up — you’d been just friends at the time, after all — and vi seemed to warm up, finishing to enthusiastic applause. 

now, vi walks on with confidence right away, electric guitar the same pink as her hair, with a constellation of stars scribbled on its body with black sharpie. she’s grown out her hair, still keeping it shorter on one side to display her growing collection of piercings. the newest addition is a silver loop in her nostril, which glints underneath the spotlight as she leans closer to the mic. she’s wearing lowrise jeans and showcasing a sliver of her hips; you can’t help but think about what’s hidden just a bit lower, the stars sparkling along her upper thigh, etched into her skin at the same time you got violets blooming between your ribs. 

“hey everyone. most of you know me as the captain of our hockey team —”

beside you, jayce whistles and there’s a scattering of applause for the team, who just made it to nationals. vi landed an athletic scholarship, too, to play at university of piltover. even though you have a hard time picturing your girlfriend as an enforcer, you’re so proud of her. plus, it’s only a twenty minute drive from zaun university, where you’ve decided to go so you could be close to your family.

“but, i’ve been writing songs, too,” vi continues. “i realized that i’ve gotten up here every year to sing someone else’s love song to a girl i’ve had a crush on since before i even knew what a crush was. but this is a song i’ve been writing, for and about her, for years. and now that we’re actually dating….well, i wanted to do something special for our first valentine’s day. ” vi looks at you with a toothy grin, and you blow her a kiss. “wait, actually, can we get a spotlight on my girlfriend? right there?”

vi gestures in your general direction, and suddenly you feel the heat of the spotlight and 50 pairs of eyes on you. your cheeks flush at the attention, but you play along and wave nonetheless.

“there she is,” vi gushes. “my beautiful stargirl. i wrote this song —”

“oh my god, we came here for music, not your sappy lesbian monologue!” drea, current goalie of  zaun high’s hockey team and perpetual pain in vi’s ass, groans. “hurry up and play the song already!”

one of the teachers hushes the bubbling laughter, and it dies down just as quickly as it emerged.

vi rolls her eyes. “as i was saying, i wrote this song-slash-sappy-lesbian-monologue for you, stargirl. i hope you like it. happy valentine’s day.”

you don’t know what makes your heart soar more — the sweet lyrics falling from the lips of the girl you love, or the girl herself. 

later, vi is falling asleep in the middle of chemistry class when she hears a light clink against the window. she glances outside and sees you waving at her, smile as bright as a shooting star. you have paint stains on your jeans that weren’t there earlier and you’re gesturing at her to follow you. vi just shrugs and nods her chin towards the front of the class. 

your bottom lip juts out into a pout, and you curve your hands into a heart before disconnecting them. vi snorts at your antics. 

“ms. lanes, are my slides on organic compounds amusing to you?” 

“uh, no mr. michaels. of course not.” vi clears her throat, whips her head back towards the smartboard. “may i, uh, go to the bathroom?”

vi checks her phone as soon as she closes the door behind her. 

stargirl

hurry UP!!!

dyke spiderman <3

easy romeo

i’m omw

where should i meet u???

stargirl

our spot

“wait!” you call as soon as vi reaches the bottom of the staircase and starts to turn the corner. “close your eyes!”

“how’d you know it was me?” vi laughs, but does as she’s told nonetheless.

“the axe body spray is a pretty dead giveaway,” you deadpan. 

“hey, i stopped using that in middle school. can i look now?”

you ask her to wait one more time. vi feels you shift behind her, wrap your arms around her waist. on instinct, vi reaches a hand down and laces her fingers through yours, your skin slick and cold. 

“okay,” you whisper, your breath hot against her ear. “open your eyes.”

and when she does, vi is glad that you’re holding her, because she’s suddenly weak in the knees at what’s gracing the wall before her: a small mural reminiscent of klimt’s famous painting, ‘the kiss’. except — it’s the two of you, surrounded by stars and violets.

“happy valentine’s day, vi.” 

you untangle yourself from her, but vi doesn’t let go of your hand, even when she realizes it’s wet with fresh paint. 

“you….you did this?”

“yeah.”

“wow….it’s amazing. beautiful.”

vi squeezes your hand, still in awe at how you beautifully swirled together each color, the loving expressions you managed to portray with each delicate stroke of your paintbrush. 

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love….” she turns to you. “i love it. you didn’t have to do all this though, it must have taken you forever.”

“you’re worth it,” you muse. “like you said — it’s our first valentine’s day. as a couple at least. i wanted to do something special. i made us a playlist, too.”  

so, even though it means she’s skipping chem and you’re skipping history, the two of you curl underneath the staircase, a pair of earbuds split between you. 

“i’m gonna miss seeing you every day after we graduate.”

vi hums in agreement. she gently lifts your head from her shoulder, holding your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “you know i’ll love you wherever we are, right?”

“i know, i heard you early on stage,” you swoon, settling back against her shoulder. “seemed a bit dramatic for only being, like, 20 minutes away from each other. though, i guess that is the farthest apart we’ve ever been.”

vi takes a deep breath, as your fingers dance along the doodles decorating her skin, the ones you had drawn on in sharpie during calculus. “except…. it might be further than that, depending on how things go.”

your pointer finger pauses halfway through an outline of a heart. “what do you mean?”

“i’m, uh….i don’t want to go to university of piltover. actually, i don’t want to go to college at all. i turned down the scholarship; made the official decision two weeks ago after the big game.”

“you did what?”

“i wanna move to l.a. or london, pursue this whole music thing. i think it could really take me places.” 

“right,” you clip.“and why are you just bringing this up now? have you told vander? have you talked to anyone before making a huge, life-changing decision?”

you continue shaking your head in disbelief as you gather your backpack and turn the corner, emerging from underneath the staircase; vi follows you. 

“no, but it’s my life — and i know what i want.”

“and it’s always about what you want, right?” you scoff.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“it’s just — did you ever think about your family in all this? how powder might feel having her sister so far away just as she’s starting high school?”

“i’ve spent the past 13 years of my life worrying about powder, taking care of her especially after our mom died,” vi reasons, trying to keep her voice steady. “i need a break. my dreams are bigger than this town.”

“do you…” you trail off, hesitant to even speak the words aloud, but the coil in your gut tells you it’s unavoidable. “do you need a break from us?” 

“stargirl.” vi whispers your nickname like a promise itching to be broken. “i thought you’d love having a rockstar girlfriend,” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“don’t,” you grumble, brows furrowed. “if you wanted to make things work between us, you would have at least talked to me about this.”

“i am talking to you,” vi counters. she grabs her hands in yours. you pull away.

“but, you spent these past two weeks listening to me imagine our future together, while you had already made other plans. what does that say about our actual future?”

before vi can respond, someone clears their throat from the top of the staircase. your principal, looking down on you with an expression that can only be described as disinterested, addressing you by your last names. 

“pro tip,” she continues. “if you want to skip class and have a lover’s quarrel, make sure it’s not somewhere that carries sound directly to the office.”

you and vi get assigned detention that afternoon. you’re told to sit on opposite sides of the room, but that doesn’t stop vi from throwing a crumpled ball of paper your way. 

glancing over at your girlfriend, you have to admit that you find yourself melting at those puppy dog eyes of hers, pleading and so full of love as she waits for you to respond to her message.

even though the future feels uncertain, you scribble something back, then toss the paper towards her desk discreetly. it lands on the floor. vi unfolds it and smiles as she reads the note, cheeks tinted a light rose.

___

[image: a crumpled ball of paper. unfold it, and it reads….]

(in hot pink gel pen)

I WANT TO MAKE THINGS WORK BETWEEN US

I LOVE YOU

(in black sharpie)

I LOVE YOU TOO

OF COURSE WE’LL MAKE IT WORK

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A ROCK STAR GF, BTW

BUT ONLY IF SHE’S AS HOT AS YOU

___

track 4: “home by now” by MUNA 

(age 21)

“wait, hold on — what does that sign say?”

violet lanes, will you be my valentine?

“i’m flattered,” vi chuckles. “but, sorry ladies — i’m a happily taken woman. i’ve got a pretty girl waiting for me in the crowd.” 

“and, lemme just say, it’s a good thing we’ve all got separate hotel rooms this time,” caitlyn groans. 

vi rolls her eyes. “anyways. this is a very special night because it’s the first time my girlfriend is watching us perform live! she’s over there, looking as beautiful as ever. everyone, say hi!”

the spotlight shines on you, and you giggle shyly. the necklace she’d given you this morning practically glows between your collarbones, illuminates your skin with a violet hue. 

“isn’t she the cutest?” vi gushes. “the first time i performed this next song was to celebrate our first valentine’s day as a couple. and — fun little easter egg — when we released this as a single, the cover was a painting she had made for me on that same day. she’s just so talented, kicking ass at this fancy art program….she’s basically the frida kahlo to my joan jett…..and i’m just rambling, now, sorry guys. i could probably talk about my girl all day.” 

“oh, and she does,” maddie grumbles. 

“the fans love sappy-lesbian-monologues, don’t they?” the crowd roars, and vi flashes maddie a winning smirk. “so, yeah, i love my girlfriend every day, of course, but today it’s with roses and ring pops and those cheesy cards kids hand out to each other in elementary school. happy valentine’s day, stargirl. this one’s called — stuck on you.” 

when the show’s over, and the band’s played not one, but two encores, you’re flinging your arms around vi’s neck before she even has the chance to put down her guitar. she’s all sweaty, white tank top sticking to her torso. her ears are still ringing and her throat a bit sore, but all vi cares about is the feelings of your soft lips kissing across her cheeks. 

“you’re so fucking amazing,” you gush, pecking her lips delicately. “i mean, i’ve seen you play before, but never like this! vi, you’re….wow. electric, fucking radiant. you must be exhausted, though, ahh —”

vi kisses you, sweaty and breathless, until she’s practically sucked all the air from your lungs.

“not at all,” she replies with a cocky grin. “we’ve got all night and i’m not planning on getting any sleep.”

“ugh, gross. get a room,” caitlyn scoffs, playful but with a bit of an edge. 

“oh, we will,” you reply coolly. maybe you’re a bit jealous with how seamlessly caitlyn fits into vi’s new life, how much she’s able to see your girlfriend much more than you’re able to. she hasn’t been particularly friendly since you’ve gotten here, and she’s been a bit too touchy with vi in the tabloids lately. “i’m guessing you don’t have any valentine’s plans?”

caitlyn narrows her eyes at you.

vi laughs, probably about to make a lighthearted comment to diffuse the tension between you and caitlyn, but she’s called aside by their manager for a quick chat before she gets the chance. 

“i’ll be right back. cait, stargirl — play nice,” she advises, like you’re children fighting on the playground. 

once she’s gone, caitlyn’s frown turns into a smirk. 

“stargirl, huh? guess that explains her thigh tattoo. i didn’t think vi was that sentimental, though, so it must have been at your request.” 

you straighten your back, trying to mirror caitlyn’s combative confidence. “i think i know her better than you.”

“maybe before, when you were kids growing up in that nothing town. things change, darling. people change — who they are and what they want. if i were you, i’d accept that sooner rather than later,” caitlyn snarks as she finally walks away, bumping your shoulder just as vi returns to the pair of you.  

you don’t quite have the time to register the interaction, not with vi intertwining her fingers with yours and tugging you towards her body. 

“let’s get out of here, yeah?” she brushes some hair behind your ear. “we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

and, there was so much time to make up for — the days that have turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years since you’d last seen each other in person, sometimes only speaking to each other once every month, for only two minutes at a time. 

you’d gotten so used to being apart that being together feels like a dream.

vi’s warm body presses against yours, barely making it to the bed. you just couldn’t resist pushing her against the door of the hotel room as soon as you were inside, lodging your thigh between her legs. 

“i, uh, i have a surprise for you,” vi breathes, groaning as you hum and start to suck bruises down her neck. 

“yeah? what is it, pretty girl?”

blushing and slightly flustered at the nickname, vi removes her shirt and sits back on the bed, gesturing at you to follow her. you hover on top of her and take in her naked form. 

“you…got your nipples pierced.”

vi grins. 

“can i touch them?” 

she nods enthusiastically. you brush your thumb over one and she shivers, causing you to pull away.

“no, it’s okay,” she assures, guiding your hand back towards her. “feels good.”

you start kissing her again. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” until you reach her chest. “can i?”

vi blinks up at you, eyes glazed over with honeyed want. “please. f-fuck,” vi moans when you latch your mouth to her nipple, rolling the cold, silver piercing along your tongue.

“you’re so sensitive,” you coo. you release her nipple with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting it to your wet lips. your fingers slip underneath vi’s underwear, gliding through her soft curls and down into her sticky heat. “so wet. you really missed me, yeah?”

“course i did, stargirl,” vi lets out a shaky laugh. “i want to show you just how much.”

you pout, and vi has the urge to capture that beautiful bottom lip of yours between her teeth. “but i wanted to show you how much i missed you.”

“well, like i said — we have all night.”

three orgasms later, and you’re nearing the point of exhaustion, but you’re determined to keep going, if anything because of how full you feel with vi’s fingers fucking into you at a truly impressive pace. the pads of her fingers are rougher than before, calluses from playing guitar so often, but she still knows exactly how to curl and curve them in every way that makes you unravel. her lips are shining with your cum, and you still taste her sweetness on your tongue. 

she grinds her bare cunt against the soft skin of your thigh as she brings you closer and closer to your peak while desperately chasing hers. 

“you close, pretty girl? gonna cum for me again?”

vi whines, nods eagerly. “i’m so fucking close. fuck — i don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

you groan when vi starts sucking at your pulsepoint, running her tongue over the chain of your new necklace. you reach a hand up to tug at her hair, gently coaxing her to look at you.

“don’t worry about that,” you promise. vi takes a deep breath as though inhaling your words and buries her face in the crook of your neck, butterfly lashes fluttering closed and tickling the skin behind your ear. “you’re being so good for me, so messy.”

“s-sorry,” vi sniffles, blood rushing to her cheeks. her body stills while she moves to meet your gaze, her puppy dog eyes shining with desire and desperation. 

you shake your head and dig your fingers into the plush of her hips, urging her to keep going.

“i love it,” you clarify, prompting vi’s face to brighten, her smile pure sunlight and sugar. 

you run your thumb over the scar on her lip that stretches with such familiarity, before crashing your lips against hers. vi welcomes your slick tongue into her mouth, swirling around every crevice until your tastes combine into one. the knot in your abdomen tightens and you, somewhat reluctantly, pull away to admire your girlfriend.

“i love how gorgeous you look on top of me, fucking me while using my body to get yourself off,” you continue, words flowing from your mouth like thick, sickly-sweet nectar. “i want you to cum with me one more time, yeah?”

vi whimpers into the crook of your neck, the vibrations intensifying the waves of pleasure crashing throughout your body. it doesn’t take long for vi to feel you clench around her fingers, and for you to feel her gush against your skin, staining the bedspread beneath your entangled bodies.

vi pulls away her fingers — you whimper this time at the sudden emptiness — but she places the softest kiss on your lips as an apology before adjusting to lay down on her side. she nestles into the curve between your neck and shoulder. her teeth graze your pulsepoint as you run your hand through her damp hair.

you should probably take a shower — the two of you drenched in each other’s sweat and saliva and cum — but all you want to do is to melt against her. maybe if you stay in bed, then time will slow down. 

“i wish you could stay longer.” 

“me too,” you whisper, idly tracing your fingers down her body. 

“you know, the art scene in this city is amazing,” she mumbles. “lot of galleries where you could show your work. nice, big apartments where you could have your own private studio space. you could move here after graduation.”

you laugh. “maybe in another life, where i could afford a place in new york. plus, at this point, i think it’d be best for me to move home after i graduate. but, hypothetically speaking — yeah, that would be cool.”

“well, hypothetically speaking, you would share rent with the pink-haired butch of your dreams.”

“you mean the one whose cum is drying on my thigh right now?”

“the very same,” vi nods with a cheeky grin. she throw her arm around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

you nudge your nose against hers. “paint me a picture — what does this dream life with my dream girl look like?”

“well, we get a place in an artsy neighbourhood, obviously, surrounded by a strong, welcoming community of queer artists, who are all quirky and colorful in their own way.”

“we’d actually be friends with our neighbours — host dinner parties and have movie nights and dance all night at gay bars. our apartment would have an open-floor plan, and we’d have big windows that give us a ton of light and a great view.”

“a beautiful kitchen, too. one that’s a little outdated, but we prefer the term charming,” vi adds. “and there are always fresh flowers on the counter, in a gorgeous vase.”

“we thrifted most of our stuff, so the furniture is all mismatched furniture and in every color of the rainbow —”

“but it works.”

“it works,” you echo, heart glowing. “we adopt a dog, too.” 

“and, the dog’s name?”

you think for a second. “scooby.”

“of course,” vi agrees, her smile suddenly sad. “sounds like a nice life we’d have together.”

“yeah. it does.”

you swallow down those dreams with a bitter dose of reality. you’ll be on a plane tomorrow, heading back to your childhood home, while vi continues travelling the world, performing to sold-out stadiums. 

i don’t know what i’d do without you.

the sad truth is that vi does know what to do without you, and you know what to do without her. that’s what this relationship has become: together, in theory, but growing into your adult selves and towards lives that don’t necessarily include the other. 

the vi beside you, hair a mess and eyeliner smudged, looks the same, give or take a few new tattoos and piercing. but, you wonder about all the little ways she’s changed that you might not ever have the chance to appreciate, about all the details of her day that you’ll never get to hear about. 

you wonder if, possibly, caitlyn is right. you know that people change — who they are, what they want. you want to believe that you and vi are the exception, that no matter how much you changed, you’d always be together. always. 

you then remember something else that caitlyn had said, and abruptly stop tracing designs onto vi’s skin, your eyes lingering on the stars on her upper thigh. vi must notice how you stiffen, because she cups your cheek, prompting you to meet her gaze.

“hey — are you okay?”

“i just — don’t take this the wrong way —  but….has anything ever happened between you and cait?”

vi freezes. “why….why would you ask that?”

“o-oh, it’s just….she mentioned something about your star tattoo and, i, uh, i don’t know. seems like the type of thing she’d only know if the two of you had —”

vi shuffles away from you beneath the sheets and sits up. “you think i’d cheat on you?”

“you aren’t answering the question,” you notice, watching carefully as a nervous blush blooms across her freckled cheeks. “did anything happen between you and caitlyn?”

“why does it matter? why are you asking?”

“i’m starting to think i have a good reason to.” you get out of bed in a huff and slip on her oversized graphic tee, starting to pace back and forth.

“i — look, i was going to tell you, at some point — we, uh….well, nothing actually happened.”

“well? what didn’t actually happen?”

“baby, just let me explain —” vi catches your arm to stop you. “we were both drunk and high and sharing a cigarette by the pool and….she….we….almost kissed.”

you scoff. “so that’s what this weekend was all about — you felt guilty, so you put on this heart-eyed romantic act to make yourself feel better. everything — this last minute trip, the shoutout at your concert, the fucking necklace you got me — was all because you felt guilty.”

“maybe that’s part of it,” vi admits. “but, mostly, i wanted to see you. i miss you.”

you don’t confess to missing her, too. instead, you say:

“maybe we don’t know each other as well as we used to. maybe….things are changing a bit too much.”

“what does that even — where is this going?” vi drops your arm like its a hot coal, red-hot and blistering. “do you wanna break up?”

the tension hangs in the air, a cloud of smoke and darkness between you and the girl you’ve always loved.

“do you?”

you get on a plane the next morning, bone-tired and heart-heavy with deja vu. 

you kiss each other goodbye, promise that you’ll make things work.

you don’t. can’t. 

a few months later, you’ll break up. 

___

[image: postcard reading GREETINGS FROM PARIS! messy handwriting and misspelled words on the other side]

stargirl,

i promised powder id send her a postcard from paris but im really really drunk rn and urs is the only address i can rememer 

they say this is the city of love and it’s the most romantic day of the yer but it means nothing without u. i miss u.

that mesage was 4 u not powder. just tell her i say hi.

xxx

vi

p.s. i know were not together anymore, but i still love u.

___

track 5: “i’ve loved you for so long” by the aces

(now)

“vi?” 

all the lights in the apartment are off, the only sign that vi is home being her discarded doc martens strewn by the door. there’s a chill in the air, too — the window to the fire escape is open, so you head outside.

the string lights twisted around the railing flicker like fallen stars, and the city sparkles in the late winter night. vi perches over the edge, her silk shirt unbuttoned at the top, her dark lipstick faded, and a cigarette smouldering between her ringed fingers. 

“i stopped at magnolia’s on my way home – got us a slice of confetti cake for dessert,” you try, keeping your voice light in hopes of avoiding a fight. you hoped that the sweet treat would be a welcomed peace offering; that maybe you could sit down in your shared kitchen and actually talk through the conflict like the well-adjusted adults you’re trying to be. 

instead, time collapses into itself; you’re both teenagers again, keeping secrets from each other in hopes to ease future pain, and you have a feeling you’re about to bicker like an old married couple, fall back into familiar patterns.

“sure you wouldn’t want to share it with drea, instead starlight?”

you don’t take the bait; you know vi wants to push your buttons, and you know that she knows exactly how. 

“didn’t realize you still smoked,” you say, moving to lean against the railing next to her. 

“whenever i get stressed.” she takes a drag to prove her point, exhaling smoke into the ink-black sky. “guess we don’t know each other as well as we used to.” 

“vi, please,” you sigh. “can we actually talk about this without you lashing out like a wounded dog?”

and, it’s true — vi’s instinct when she’s upset has always been rushing to sink her teeth into something to protect herself from more harm, or gnawing on old wounds until fresh blood emerges.

“what’s there to talk about?” she snarls, tapping her cigarette, ash falling down into the abyss below you. “how you lied about dating drea?”

“i didn’t lie,” you huff. the winter night shivers down to your bones, but you cross your arms over your chest to keep yourself steady. “i just didn’t tell you that i’d gone out with her, specifically. we each admitted to seeing other people after our break-up. you never gave me a list of every fangirl you took to bed.”

“i told you about caitlyn —”

“the tabloids told me about caitlyn,” you counter. 

“you knew how much i hated drea!” vi barks, finally whipping her head to look at you. “do you not remember how much of a homophobic asshole she was? how she told the entire hockey team that i cornered her in the showers one day and tried to kiss her?”

you bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper.

“vi, if you just let me explain — she meant nothing to me.”

vi laughs, cold and bitter as the winter air. “i mean, jesus christ, you still have and wear the earrings she got you. meanwhile, you never wear that necklace i’d gotten you. as soon as we broke up, you were perfectly happy getting rid of me.”

“please, vi —” 

vi’s eyes shine under the starlight, and she clenches her jaw so tight that you’re worried the bone might shatter. “did you not care about me at all, even after all that time, everything we’d been through?”

you uncross your arms and reach out to her, but she flinches away. 

“violet —”

“no — you stopped caring about me to the point that you dated someone who made my life a living hell.” vi takes a shaky breath, and she chokes out your name. “we were best friends first, and i thought….god, i thought that meant we’d always love each other.”

the words hang heavy in the air, your heart pierced by her icicle-sharp words. in a haste, you wipe away the cold tears burning on your skin, turn around on your heels, and storm back inside. 

vi finds you a few minutes later in the living room. you’re using the swiss army knife you usually keep clipped to your belt to tear through unpacked boxes. though she’s not sure what you’re looking for, vi turns on the lamp to help your search. 

“what are you —”

you finally pull something out and offer it to her without a single word. 

vi’s fingers are still slightly frozen as she holds it, her eyes following the precise swirls and crisp lines, designs similar to the tattoos on her back. you must have drawn them on the worn cardboard.

“what is this?”

“open it,” is all you say before sitting cross-legged on the velvety purple couch, which the two of you had lugged up three flights of stairs from the street corner just the other day. you pick at one of the tears in the fabric as you wait.

vi stays standing while she carefully cracks open the lid, well aware that it could disintegrate in her hands like sand through an hourglass. 

what looks like a forgotten, ready-to-be-recycled shoebox turns out to contain much more than old sneakers: 

valentine’s cards she’d given you in elementary school; notes you passed to each other during class or detention; her first songwriting notebook she must have left at your place; a jolly rancher lollipop wrapper from the halloween party where you first…you know. little trinkets vi had given you throughout the years. receipts, movie tickets, photobooth strips of your younger selves. so carefree and full of love.

her anger, her hurt, melts away into sappy affection; knees turning to jello, she slides onto the couch next to you. 

you watch through the corner of your eye as vi rustles through contents of the shoebox-turned-time capsule, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. 

“you….you kept all of this?” 

“i put this box together on the first valentine’s day after our break-up. i was going to set it on fire,” you timidly admit, rubbing the back of your neck. 

vi snorts. “seriously?”

“some sort of stupid ritual i read about in autostraddle, to get rid of your ex. but when it got to that point…all of this — all these memories — i couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. i didn’t want to get rid of you.”

you reach into the box and pull out a faded, drunkenly-written postcard, chipped-polish nail fiddling with the french stamp in the corner. 

“what about the necklace?” vi can’t help but ask. she runs her fingers through the delicate, dried violets from your corsage, which your mom had helped vi pick out a week before prom. 

“ekko wanted new sneakers for his birthday, so i did the nobel big sister thing, and sold my most expensive piece of jewellery to pay for them,” you explain. you and vi had instinctively shuffled in closer together, the shoebox balanced on one leg from each of you, your knees touching. “plus — yeah, i was mad at you. god, i hated you — which probably was the reason i started going out with drea in the first place, and i’m really, really sorry that i did. but, i need you to know — i never stopped caring about you. i never stopped loving you, violet, and i don’t think i ever will. ”

silence stretches between you. vi stares at you in the warm living room light — how your eyes are darker, your lips parted, shoulders curling in to protect your bleeding heart. vi gently takes the postcard from you and places the shoebox on the floor. 

“i never stopped loving you, either,” she promises, placing her now thawed hands on your cheeks. “and i don’t think i ever will.” 

you smile softly as vi leans in closer, her eyes flickering between yours and your lips. you nod; vi presses her lips to yours, a tender vow that grows into something hungrier, something with teeth. 

“gentler,” you tell her as you pull away slightly. you want to take your time, inhale the dizzying nicotine in her lungs, savor the acidic red wine on her tongue. 

“gentler?” vi’s already eager, though, her hand inching up your thigh.

“slower, violet.”

vi shudders as you trail your fingers over the tattoo on her neck. “have i ever told you how much i love it when you say my name?” 

“drea definitely wasn’t a fan of that habit,” you confess with a guilty grin. “one of the reasons we broke up is because, well...i kept accidentally saying your name during sex.”

“really?” vi chuckles darkly, a lightning bolt of possessiveness striking through her. “fucked you so good that i ruin you for other girls, hm?”

you roll your eyes, then suck in a breath when vi dips her fingers beneath your underwear, finding you wet and waiting.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re soaking. all this, just for me?”

“hm, i don’t know. drea did look pretty good in that dress,” you tease — because you know how to push vi’s buttons, too. “i have to admit, she was a pretty decent fuck.”

“don’t,” she warns, but her eyes are burning with desire.

you smirk, slipping your hand underneath her shirt. her skin is always warm, but, right now, it’s electric. her abs are sculpted by the gods, pave way to a thick haven of curls between her legs.

“maybe you need to remind me why your name always fell from my lips whenever she’d make me cum.”

vi’s cheeks are red-hot, her heart pounding against your chest as she pushes you onto the couch, and presses her body into yours. 

“it would be my genuine pleasure.”

everything else to ash, and you’re left with this: your lace underwear dangling off your ankle as vi pushes your legs over her shoulders. her slick, skilled tongue sliding through your folds and her rough fingers squelching into your hole at an expert pace.

“f-fuck, vi,” you moan, running your fingers through her messy hair. you don’t miss how eagerly she grinds down onto the butter-soft velvet once you start tugging at the strands more firmly. 

“feels good, yeah?” she moans like you’re the one fucking her. “i’m the one making you feel good?”

“yes.” you exhale sharply when she sucks on your clit. “i’m close, vi.”

“i know, baby,” she drawls, smirking against your skin.

“don’t stop.” you plead as she sucks a bruise into your thigh, fingers curling into you. “don’t stop, don’t stop —”

and, she fucking stops. 

“vi,” you whine. 

“uh-uh, you don’t get to cum quite yet, pretty girl.”

she sucks her honey-soaked fingers into her mouth as she gets up from the couch.

you pout, licking your lips even though you wish you could lick hers. “why not?”

“i’m still mad at you,” vi states. “you really did hurt my feelings. how do you plan on making it up to me?”

vi tries to resist, play the part of the jealous, possessive girlfriend — but, god, it’s hard, with how fucked out, how beautiful you look right now: your lips the color of ripe plums, swollen and stained with vi’s lipstick; the curls between your legs twinkling with droplets of your desire; and your eyes glazed over with lust as you gaze up at her from the couch.

“that new strap we got,” you suggest, still breathless. your breasts strain against the now-wrinkled silk of the shirt you’re wearing. vi’s thankful that it’s hers, because she wants nothing more than to rip the fabric off your body. “you — you can fuck me with it.”

“is that what you want?” vi hums, fire burning in her abdomen as she watches you nod eagerly. usually, you’re the one who takes control, and that’s perfectly fine with vi, but tonight….

tonight, she has something to prove.

you’re both naked by the time you reach the bedroom, clothes thrown across the apartment floor as you take turns leaving bites and bruises on exposed areas of the other’s skin. you get down on your knees, the shag carpet shocking your skin as vi looms over you, gnawing at her scarred, kiss-swollen lips. you help her adjust the harness and attach everything accordingly, leaving a kiss on each star glittering across her thigh once you’re done. she makes you wait patiently as she coats the dildo with a healthy amount of lube.

vi offers you her hand, sticky with lube and your essence from earlier, and lifts you to your feet. she kisses you sweetly before pushing you onto the bed. 

"turn around," vi instructs. "on your knees."

you comply, already feeling yourself dripping onto the comforter in anticipation. vi kneels behind you on the bed, grasping the plush of your hips between her strong hands. you gasp when she spits onto your hole and starts to fuck into you, inch by inch. 

"you okay, baby?" vi asks once she’s halfway inside you.

"yes," you breathe. "keep going.”

so, vi continues gliding further into your silken heat, and once she’s nestled inside you completely, her thighs meeting your ass — that’s when she turns on the vibrations. vi moans, so loud that you’re sure the entire building can hear. she starts grinding into you, but otherwise doesn’t move.

“violet.” you snap your neck back as far as you can, appreciating how perfectly dishevelled vi looks behind you, eyes rolled up to heaven, drool trickling from the corner of her plump lips. “are you gonna keep fucking me any time soon?”

“it’s just so much,” she whines, and continues rutting against you.

it is so much — the waves of pleasure quivering from her body to yours, the subtle burn of her happy trail rubbing against your skin, the melodic timbre of her voice — but it’s not enough. 

“i know, baby. but i need more. if you don’t do something now….maybe there’s someone else i can call…”

your words effectively reignite that spark of jealousy, and she growls. vi slips out slightly, only to thrust back in, over and over, until you’re a moaning mess beneath her. your body starts to shake, but before you almost collapse onto your elbows, so vi reaches one hand to your neck and lifts you up so that her pierced nipples brushed against your back.

she kisses the back of your neck, trailing her hand down to pinch one of your nipples and you hiss, dizzy with pain and pleasure. she moves her other hand below the harness, rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles and gathering as much slick as she can. she brings those same fingers, glistening in the moonlight, to your lips, and you let her shove them into your mouth so you can finally taste her.

"this enough for you, greedy girl?" she taunts. 

you are greedy, when it comes to her, suckling on her digits like a lollipop while she stretches you open so deliciously, the obscene squelching of your pussy accompanying a symphony of moans and curses. 

"yes, violet. f-fuck, yes!" 

you feel vi groan against the crook of your neck, where her teeth had been nibbling at the sweat-soaked skin. 

“fuck — i need to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

with that, vi flips you over, so she can watch you unravel. she hisses when your nails find purchase on her shoulders, digging down her tattooed back.

“you’re so fucking hot. so gorgeous. i’m so lucky that you’re mine.” vi’s voice is still rough and coarse with lust, but she’s looking at you all wonder-filled and soft-eyed, like you’re a work of art displayed at the louvre. “you….you are mine, right?”

the question is shockingly vulnerable from the woman who’s fucking you at a truly brutal speed, deep enough that you’re sure you’ll feel the lucious ache of her for days now. 

you bring your hands to gently cradle her face as you wrap your legs around her hips. vi snakes one of her hands down to rub at your throbbing clit, while the other rests lovingly on your tattooed ribs, where delicate violets bloom. 

“i’m yours,” you assure, and your heart glows when she beams above you. “you’re mine too, right?”

vi nods, damp strands of her hair tickling your forehead. 

“i’m yours.”

there’s a mess pooling underneath your entangled bodies by the time you’re both finished. 

for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, until vi breaks the silence:

“did you say that you brought home a slice of cake?”

the two of you throw on some clothes, throw the sheets in the wash, and vi pulls you into her lap as you share the slice of cake at the kitchen table, chattering about everything and nothing for however long, until vi glances at the oven clock.

“shit — it’s midnight already. guess time flies when you’re having fun.” vi wraps her arms around your middle, and kisses your shoulder. “happy valentine’s day, stargirl.”

“happy valentine’s day, vi,” you smile, weaving your fingers through hers. you crane your neck back so you can feed her a bite of cake. “you’re the sweetest.”

“this cake’s pretty sweet, too,” vi jokes. she peppers kisses across your face until you’re giggling, skin sticky with frosting. 

“i’m glad you like it,” you laugh. “they do wedding cakes, too, but i think we should explore our options before settling on one for ours.”

vi’s lips pause just as she starts to kiss underneath your jaw. 

“do you mean for our wedding?” she smirks. “is there something you wanna ask me, stargirl?” 

“damn it —” you cough, almost choking on a mouthful of cake. “i - i had this whole thing planned - wait, let me —”

you disappear into the bedroom and reemerge with an intricately painted vase. you hand it to vi and sit in the chair next to her.

“this is what i made in my pottery seminar,” you explain. “it’s supposed to be like —”

“that mural you made of us senior year,” vi finishes, looking between the vase and you with stars in her eyes. 

“exactly. except we won’t have to spend saturday detention painting over it.” you chuckle at the memory as vi shakes her head with a small smile dancing across her lips knowingly. “i was gonna promise to bring my beautiful wife fresh flowers for this vase every week and then i was gonna ask you to look inside….” you gesture at vi to do so, and she reaches in to pull out a velvet box. “and then i was gonna get down on one knee —”

“it’s okay — you’ve already done plenty of that tonight,” vi laughs, and you bump her shoulder playfully. 

“and i was gonna tell you that i love you, that i have for basically my whole life, and that i want to spend the rest of it with you,” you finish, heart fluttering in your chest. 

“i can’t believe you were going to propose to me.” vi places the vase on the kitchen counter behind her, smiling at you softly. 

“is that a yes or….?”

instead of answering, vi walks over to the couch, reaches behind and pulls up a heart-printed gift bag, and hands it to you. she watches intently as you pull out a turquoise-blue collar. 

“damn, i did not know you were this kinky.” you raise an eyebrow at vi. “so, is this a yes to my proposal or….just something you just wanna try in the bedroom?”

“w-what? no!” vi stutters, her cheeks blooming pink. “i mean, yes! well – okay, i also had this plan for valentine’s day.” it’s very endearing, how vi’s scrambling to find the right words. your punk rock girlfriend, flustered and lovesick for you. “okay — there’s a dog at the shelter i thought we could adopt. i brought home the paperwork for us to fill out, if that’s what you want — it’s all in there. there’s a picture of him, too.” 

you reach in the bag again and find a printed photo of an adorable brown lab with the warmest eyes. 

“he’s adorable,” you squeal. “does he have a name?”

“scooby, of course.” vi grins. “so, do you wanna adopt a dog together?”

“i do.”

“i love the sound of that,” vi hums. “there’s one more thing in there for you….”

it’s a ring pop — and you’re not sure if it’s the sugar rush, or the woman getting down on one knee and asking you, so tenderly, so sweetly, to marry her, but your heart is absolutely soaring. 

“we might have to tell our kids a more pg version of the night we got engaged,” vi whispers later, when you’re back cuddling in bed under fresh sheets.

“kids?” you twist around in vi’s arms to find her grinning at you. “is there something you want to ask me?”

“is scooby not our first child?” vi guffaws and you poke her ribs at her cheekiness.

“true.”

“besides, you know what they say, stargirl,” she practically sings. “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes —”

you cut her off with a sugary, confetti-flavored kiss, your smiles melting into one.

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[changbinniescurlyhair]

Bound by Duty (Bang Chan)

Synopsis: You are caught between your duty to the kingdom and your forbidden love for the king’s highest knight, Sir Bang Chan. As tensions between rival realms rise and the threat of war looms ever closer, your dangerous romance ignites like wildfire, risking everything you hold dear. Pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader Warning: MINORS DNI. NSFW, cursing, unprotected sex (no glove, no love), bang chan is a simp, one bed trope (sorry, not sorry), fingering, slight dom!chan, virgin!reader, slight violence, death threats, kidnapping, kinda slow burn??? (like they love each other, but duty comes first kinda thing.) A/N: I literally poured my heart and soul into this, so enjoy! Taglist is open. Requests Masterlist

You stood at the highest balcony of the castle, the cool evening breeze whispering through your silk gown. Below, the kingdom stretched for miles, the golden fields of wheat swaying under the dying light of the sun. From this height, the world looked peaceful.

But you knew better.

The halls of the castle echoed with tension. War loomed on the horizon like a shadow creeping ever closer, dark and inevitable. Scouts returned with reports of enemy forces gathering at the borders, their numbers growing by the day. Whispers of betrayal lingered in the corridors, and even the bravest of knights no longer spoke of victory—only survival.

And yet, amidst it all, the king still found time to plan your future.

Your betrothal had been finalized weeks ago, a political move disguised as duty. Prince Taeyong of the Northern Territories was to be your husband, a man you had never met but whose name was carved into the fate of the kingdom. Your marriage would solidify an alliance, combining armies, fortifying borders. A necessity, your father had said. A blessing, your maid had reassured.

A prison, you thought.

You gripped the railing, your knuckles turning white. You had never known love—true love—but you knew enough to recognize what this was not. The weight of expectation crushed you, the knowledge that your life was not your own. You were a pawn in a game you had never asked to play, your heart a sacrifice in the name of power.

Your mother had warned you years ago, when you were just a child clinging to the idea of fairytales and freedom. A princess does not choose whom she loves. She chooses what is best for the kingdom.

But what if what was best for the kingdom was not best for you?

The sound of armored footsteps in the courtyard below drew you from your thoughts. Your tilted your head, watching as the knights gathered for their evening drills, their swords gleaming under the torchlight. They moved with precision, bodies honed for war, minds sharpened for battle. They would be the first to ride out when war finally arrived. The first to die.

Your stomach twisted.

You turned away from the sight, stepping back into the dim glow of your chambers. The room was grand, adorned with silken drapes and gold-threaded tapestries, but it felt suffocating. Every inch of it a reminder of the life you could not escape.

A life where your heart did not belong to you.

A life where you could not love who you truly loved.

And soon, a life where war would decide everything.

That night, you lay awake in your chambers, staring at the ceiling as the candlelight flickered against the stone walls. Sleep refuses to come. It never does, not when your mind is a battlefield of thoughts you cannot silence.

Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed.

The thought makes your chest tighten.

Taeyong of the North. A name you’ve only heard in whispers, spoken with either fear or grudging respect. A man known more for his conquests than his kindness. His kingdom is built on war, his soldiers bred for battle. He is the kind of ruler your father admires—ruthless, cunning, a man who does not flinch at the thought of bloodshed.

Will he see you as anything more than a transaction? A pawn in this grand game of power?

You turn onto your side, fingers curling into the silk sheets. Somewhere beyond the castle walls, the world carries on. In the villages, merchants barter, children play in the streets, lovers hold hands beneath the moonlight. A life you will never know.

A soft knock at your door makes you sit up. It’s late—too late for a servant.

“Come in,” you call, smoothing out the wrinkles in your nightgown.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside.

Sir Bang Chan.

He enters without hesitation, though he removes his helmet as a sign of respect. His dark hair is damp with sweat from the evening drills, his tunic slightly loose at the collar. He is a knight—one of the finest in your father’s service. A warrior who belongs on the battlefield, not in the chambers of a princess.

And yet, here he stands.

“Your Highness,” he greets, his voice steady. But there is something in his eyes—something he masks well but can never quite hide. A storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you reply, keeping your voice composed. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he admits. He hesitates for a moment before stepping further inside, closing the door behind him. “I needed to see you.”

Your heart stutters.

He shouldn’t be here. You both know it. But the truth is, you want him here. More than you can ever admit.

“What is it?” you ask, though you already know.

His jaw clenches. “The war is moving faster than we anticipated. Scouts reported enemy forces less than two days from the border.”

The war. The ever-looming war.

“And my betrothal?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply. “It will happen. The king insists it must, to secure the alliance.”

A silence stretches between you.

You look at him then, truly look at him. The way his hands curl into fists at his sides. The way his shoulders tense as if he’s holding back words he can never say.

The way his eyes—so dark, so full of unspoken things—linger on your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

Something inside you cracks.

“What if I don’t want this?” you whisper.

Chan lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think I don’t know that?” He steps closer, just a fraction, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Do you think I want to watch you be given away like a prize to a man who doesn’t deserve you?”

Your breath hitches. “Then stop it.”

His eyes darken. “You know I can’t.”

Because duty binds you both. Because love—true love—is a privilege neither of you can afford.

But in that moment, with war on the horizon and your fate slipping through your fingers, you wonder.

Will you let the world decide for you?

Or will you dare to defy it?

The silence between you is thick, suffocating. The weight of everything—war, duty, desire—hangs in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Chan stands close, too close. The dim candlelight casts shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. He has always been composed, disciplined. But right now, you see the cracks beneath the surface.

He is unraveling.

And so are you.

“Tell me to walk away,” he says, his voice low, rough with something dangerous.

You swallow hard. “You know I can’t.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something raw. His hands clench at his sides like he’s holding himself back from doing something reckless, something irreversible.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asks, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Watch you marry him? Stand by as he takes you away, knowing you’ll never be happy? Knowing you—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.

You don’t dare breathe.

“Say it,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N.”

But it’s already too late.

Because you’ve seen it—the way he looks at you, the way his walls crack when he is near you. You’ve felt it in every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every moment where the world fades and it’s just you and him.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters, turning away, running a hand through his dark hair.

And just like that, the moment shatters.

The reality of your situation crashes down on you like a tidal wave. Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed. Tomorrow, you will be bound to a man you do not love. Tomorrow, this—you and him—will no longer exist.

Unless…

Your breath comes faster as a reckless thought takes hold.

“Come with me.”

Chan freezes.

Slowly, he turns, his eyes searching yours, as if he isn’t sure he heard you right. “What?”

“Come with me,” you repeat, your heart pounding. “Let’s leave. Tonight.”

His expression darkens, a mixture of shock, anger, and something dangerously close to hope. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t.”

“I do.” You step forward, reaching for his hand before you can second-guess yourself. The contact sends a jolt up your spine, his warmth grounding you, anchoring you. “If I stay, I will be nothing more than a prisoner in a golden cage. I will marry a man I don’t love. I will be sent away to a foreign land where I will never see you again.” Your grip tightens. “And you will go to war. You will fight for a kingdom that does not care about you, a king who sees you as nothing more than a weapon.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’ll die for them,” you whisper. “And I will live a life I never wanted.”

Chan’s breathing is uneven now, his fingers twitching against yours. He is breaking, you can see it.

And you want him to.

Because you need him to.

“Please,” you murmur.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The weight of the world sits between you, the consequences of this decision pressing down like a blade against your throats.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door.

You both jolt apart.

“Your Highness,” comes the voice of a guard. “Your father requests your presence immediately.”

Your stomach drops.

Chan steps back, his expression shifting instantly—cold, unreadable, the perfect soldier once again.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says quietly. But there’s something different in his voice now, something uncertain.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if later will ever come.

Because as you leave your chambers, you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change.

Something big.

And it might already be too late to stop it.

You walk down the hall in silence, the weight of the guard's footsteps echoing in the stone corridor, a cold reminder of the world outside these walls. Your pulse still races, each beat a reminder of the words you almost spoke, the decisions you almost made.

You reach the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The doors swing open with a heavy groan, and the chill of the grand chamber greets you. Your father, the king, sits at his throne, his sharp eyes trained on you as you approach. He is always so composed, a king who never shows his hand. But tonight, the tension is palpable. The air is thick with something that doesn’t feel like the usual state affairs.

"You’ve kept me waiting, Y/N," your father’s voice booms. The power in it is unmistakable, a force that has shaped your entire life.

“I apologize, Father,” you reply, lowering your head in respect, though every fiber of your being wants to rebel, to scream that you’re not ready for what’s coming.

The king’s gaze softens for a fleeting second, before he speaks again, his tone darker now. “Taeyong arrives tomorrow. He is the key to securing our kingdom’s future. The alliance will strengthen us against the northern tribes. Do you understand?”

You nod, trying to keep your emotions in check, though inside, you feel as if your world is unraveling.

“I understand, Father.”

But you don’t. How could you? How could anyone expect you to understand a future where your heart is chained to a man you do not love?

Your father leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “This is your duty. Our kingdom’s fate rests on this union. And I will not have you defy me, do you hear me?”

You swallow, trying to suppress the trembling in your hands. “Yes, Father.”

The king stands, his movement commanding the room. “Good. Tomorrow will be the beginning of your new life, Y/N. And you will be ready.”

He steps toward you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of his expectations crushes you. You want to tell him how you feel, how the weight of this impending marriage feels like a death sentence, but you don’t.

Because in this moment, you realize something that terrifies you: You don’t have a choice.

The doors swing open again, and a guard enters with urgent news. Your father’s face darkens as the man speaks, his words clipped and quick.

“Your Highness, scouts have reported an enemy force approaching from the south. It’s only a matter of days before they arrive at the border.”

The blood drains from your face.

War is closer than ever. The looming dread that’s been following you for weeks now feels more real, more immediate.

Your father looks at you for a long moment, his expression hard. “This alliance with Taeyong must succeed. It’s the only way to secure the kingdom’s future. If we cannot unite, we risk everything.”

The weight of his words hits you with an almost physical force. But as you look at him—your king, your father—you can’t help but feel trapped. The walls are closing in on you. Tomorrow, your life will change, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The decision you made earlier, in the quiet of your chambers, resurfaces.

Come with me, Chan.

The thought pulses in your mind, frantic and urgent, like a lifeline thrown in the middle of a storm.

But now, as you stand in your father’s throne room, that same thought is drowned out by the roar of impending war. The weight of your duty presses down on you again. The reality of what it means to be a princess—the weight of a crown you never asked for, the price of your freedom—has never been clearer.

You want to run. You want to flee from this life, from this kingdom, from everything that has been forced upon you.

But as the door closes behind you, you realize that escape is a dream you cannot afford.

The next morning, as you prepare for the meeting with Taeyong, you can’t shake the image of Chan’s eyes—the way they softened when he stood in front of you last night, the way he hesitated when you asked him to run. He’s a warrior, yes, but there’s a softness in him, something that makes you wonder if he, too, feels the pull of something more than duty.

But your duty to your people will always come first.

Or will it?

The next morning, the castle is alive with preparations for the arrival of Taeyong. Servants rush through the hallways, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat filling the air as you walk through the corridors, your mind a storm of conflicting thoughts.

You’re in your chambers, standing before a mirror, watching as your maid adjusts the lace at your collar. The weight of the dress feels heavier today, like the fabric is pulling you further into a life you never chose.

“Your Highness,” the maid says softly, her voice hesitant, “may I ask… Are you feeling well today? You seem… troubled.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Bom. Just a little tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press further. As she finishes your attire, the door opens without a knock, and in steps your father’s trusted advisor, Lord Hwang. He’s a tall man with sharp features, always impeccably dressed, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Princess Y/N,” he greets, bowing slightly. “It’s almost time for you to meet the Prince. Your father is expecting you at the gates.”

You nod stiffly, your stomach tightening. “Thank you, Lord Hwang. I’ll be there shortly.”

As he leaves, you can’t help but glance out the window, your thoughts drifting back to the night before. Bang Chan’s words echo in your mind, the conflict in his voice when you asked him to leave with you. You hadn’t even told him you were serious—he didn’t have the luxury of hope in this world, not like you did.

“Come with me,” you whisper to yourself, as though saying the words aloud might make them real. But you know it’s a fantasy, an impossible dream. There’s no escaping this.

You step into the hallway, where a line of soldiers stand at attention, their eyes straight ahead. None of them make eye contact with you, but you can feel their gazes—cold, unfeeling, like you’re nothing more than a princess they serve, not a woman with her own desires.

As you walk towards the gates, the familiar path feels different. The walls seem taller, the ground harder beneath your feet. When you reach the courtyard, the sight of Taeyong’s approaching party sends a shiver down your spine.

He is tall, his figure imposing. His black armor glints in the morning sun as he dismounts from his horse. His eyes, cold as steel, lock onto yours as you approach.

“Princess Y/N,” he says, his voice low and commanding, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

You force yourself to smile, nodding. “The honor is mine, Prince Taeyong.”

His smile widens as he steps forward, towering over you. “Please, call me Taeyong. The title of prince is far too formal for what’s about to come.”

Your stomach turns at his words, but you don’t let it show. You extend your hand for him to kiss, a gesture of formality you’ve done a thousand times, though this time, it feels like a betrayal. His lips brush your knuckles, and the sensation sends a cold chill through you.

Behind you, your father steps forward, clapping Taeyong on the back. “Welcome, my friend,” King Taemin says. “We are grateful for your presence. Let’s discuss the future over breakfast.”

As the two men walk side by side, speaking in low voices about alliances and kingdoms, you find yourself lingering behind, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You can feel eyes on you. Cold, judgmental eyes.

And then, a voice.

“Princess.”

You turn quickly, and your heart leaps in your chest.

Bang Chan.

He’s standing near the stables, his armor gleaming under the sun, his stance rigid as always. But his eyes are locked on yours, filled with something unreadable. You quickly look away, not wanting to be seen staring.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “What are you doing here?”

He steps forward, his eyes scanning the courtyard before meeting yours again. “I was sent to keep watch. The enemy could strike at any moment, and I need to be prepared.”

You nod, but there’s a coldness between you now, a distance you both refuse to cross. You can see it in his eyes—the same conflict you feel. Duty. Honor. And the secret longing neither of you can admit.

“You should return to your post,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “I’m sure my father will want you by his side.”

Chan doesn’t move, his gaze never leaving yours. “Princess, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t keep pretending that this is all just about duty. I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You want to say something, anything, but the fear of what might happen next silences you.

“You think I don’t know?” you whisper, taking a step closer. “You think I haven’t thought about it every day? The way I feel about you…”

You pause, your heart racing. “But we can’t. We can’t be together. The world won’t allow it. We have our places, our roles. You’re a knight. I’m a princess. And I’m about to marry a man I don’t love.”

Chan’s eyes darken, but his expression is pained. “Then why are we standing here?”

You swallow hard, your voice shaking. “Because there’s nothing we can do. The war is coming, and everything will change whether we’re ready or not.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Then let it change. Let it.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “It’s too late. The kingdom needs me. My father needs me. And Taeyong—he’s part of the plan.”

Chan looks at you for a long moment, his face torn with emotion. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd of soldiers preparing for the worst.

You stand there for a long time, the words left unsaid hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating. The reality of the choices before you presses down on your chest, and for the first time, you wonder if this will be the last time you ever see him.

As the day stretches on, your heart feels like it's being pulled in two different directions. The castle is brimming with activity, preparations for the arrival of Taeyong only adding to the mounting pressure. You can’t escape the constant hum of voices and the shuffle of soldiers, and every glance from those around you feels like a reminder of what’s to come.

You stand near the grand hall, watching as the last of the decorations are placed, the scent of roses filling the air. Your father is already in the hall, speaking with Taeyong and his advisors. The thought of the union—the betrothal you never asked for, the life you never wanted—threatens to drown you.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Chan. The words he spoke to you earlier repeat in your mind like a broken record.

I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.

His confession lingers in the air between you even now, like an unspoken promise. You’ve never felt this torn, and the reality of it sinks in deeper with every passing minute.

“Princess?”

You turn, startled, to find Lord Hwang standing behind you, his eyes sharp as ever. “The king requests your presence.”

You nod, though your stomach churns. The weight of your decision sits heavily on your chest, and yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s already too late to turn back.

The hall is grand, as always, but today, the walls seem to close in on you. Your father, King Taemin, stands at the center, his back straight and imposing as he speaks with Taeyong. The two men are deep in conversation, and your father’s laugh rings out—a sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Princess Y/N,” Taeyong says, turning as you approach. His voice is smooth, almost rehearsed. But there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist. “I trust you’re feeling well this morning?”

What a fucking prick. You force yourself to smile, though it feels like a mask. “Yes, thank you, Prince Taeyong.”

“You’ve been quiet today,” he notes, his voice laced with something dangerous. “I understand. A woman of your beauty and status must feel the pressure of the eyes upon her.”

You swallow, the words coming out in a strained breath. “I suppose I’ve always been under pressure.”

Taeyong steps closer, just a little too close. The scent of his cologne fills your senses, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you. He’s always been polite, but today, there’s something more. His gaze lingers a moment too long, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

Before you can say anything else, there’s a sudden commotion by the entrance.

You turn sharply to see Chan standing at the doorway, his figure cutting through the crowd like a blade. He’s dressed in full armor, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. His eyes, dark and conflicted, lock onto yours, and for a split second, the noise of the room fades.

Your heart lurches in your chest, but you quickly look away, afraid of what might happen if you don’t.

Chan strides forward, his expression unreadable, until he stands at your side, his presence a stark contrast to the cold politeness of Taeyong.

“My lady,” Chan says, bowing slightly. His voice is steady, but the tension in his tone is unmistakable.

You feel the air thicken. Taeyong looks between you and Chan, his smile faltering for just a second, and then returning with more force.

“Ah, Sir Bang Chan,” Taeyong greets him with a forced politeness, his tone barely veiling the subtle challenge. “A knight in shining armor. Always a pleasure.”

Chan doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just stands there, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a quiet storm brewing between you both—silent, but intense.

Your heart beats faster, and a knot forms in your throat. You want to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words are stuck.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Sir Bang Chan?” Taeyong asks, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation.

You see it then—the way Chan’s jaw tightens, the barely restrained anger behind his eyes. But when he speaks, his tone is calm, almost too calm. “I’m here to ensure that the castle is properly secured. My duty is to protect, not to engage in politics.”

You almost breathe a sigh of relief at his restraint, but then the tension shifts. It’s in the way his eyes flicker to you, the way he holds himself back, knowing that the moment he says too much, everything will change.

"Of course," Taeyong says, his voice laced with mock sweetness. "Duty first, always."

You can feel the undercurrent of hostility between them, a quiet but potent rivalry. It’s not just political; there’s something personal about it. And you’re caught in the middle, trapped in a game you never wanted to play.

Taeyong looks at you again, his gaze lingering with an unsettling intensity. "I trust we'll have a proper discussion later, Princess. After all, we have much to talk about, don't we?"

You try to keep your face neutral, but his words feel like a weight pressing down on your chest. This isn’t just about duty anymore—it’s about control. His control over you, over your future, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Chan takes a step closer to you, his arm brushing against yours in a brief but undeniable touch. The contact sends a shock through your body, and for a moment, you almost forget about the others in the room. You look at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some glimmer of hope.

But instead, you see the pain in his expression, the resignation that mirrors your own.

“We’ll talk later, Princess,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. And then he turns, his footsteps heavy as he walks away, back into the throng of soldiers and advisors.

You watch him go, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and longing.

And then Taeyong steps forward again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You look troubled, Princess. Is there something I can do to ease your mind?”

You meet his gaze, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. “I don’t believe so, Prince Taeyong.”

But even as you say the words, you know that the storm is far from over. And soon, it will break.

Bang Chan's POV

Chan strides through the grand hall, his armor clinking with every step, though the sound does little to mask the heavy weight pressing down on his chest. His heart is pounding—raging—and it's all he can do to keep from snapping. He knows he shouldn’t have stayed. He knows it was damn stupid to let his feelings spill out in front of her, to risk everything for a moment of honesty.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

He had seen the way she looked at him. The way her eyes flickered when their gazes met. For just a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Like everything that chained them down—war, duty, her betrothal—had all faded away. And it was just them, caught in that fleeting second of truth.

But now? Now, reality’s crashing back down, hard.

He exhales a frustrated breath, fingers running through his curly brown hair. His boots echo on the stone floor like the ticking of a clock—each step taking him farther away from her, farther away from the choice he should’ve made.

He should’ve walked away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Chan,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

His thoughts spin in endless circles, each one getting more tangled, more painful. He knows what he has to do. The kingdom needs him. His oath to the king is clear. He has no right to her. She’s a princess, and he’s just some damn knight.

But goddamn it, it doesn’t feel that way. Not when he looks at her.

He reaches the stables and stops in front of his horse, the stable hand standing by nervously. Chan nods at him but doesn’t stop to say anything. Instead, he mounts his horse in silence, his muscles tense, his mind still stuck on her.

Y/N.

His hand grips the reins too tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. He tries to shake off the anger, the pain, but it’s all still there, gnawing at him.

He should’ve never spoken those words to her. He should’ve never told her he cared. She doesn’t need that weight. She’s already trapped by the chains of her life—betrothed to Taeyong, the looming war, the expectations of a kingdom that only sees her as a bargaining chip. She doesn’t need some knight—some fool like him—complicating everything.

But the truth is, he can’t stop. He never could. Every time he’s near her, he feels it—like some electric current, something raw and untamed, pulling him toward her. The way she looks at him, the way her eyes hold this fire that matches his own. He can’t turn it off. He can’t shut it out.

“Damn it,” he hisses under his breath, urging his horse into motion. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the cobblestone is the only noise in the otherwise empty courtyard.

His mind wanders back to the scene in the hall, the way Taeyong had looked at him. The way the prince was just a little too smug, like he owned her. And the way Y/N had stood there, quiet, her eyes full of things she couldn’t say—things Chan couldn’t hear, but could feel deep down. It tore at him.

The damn prince wasn’t good for her. But he wasn’t the one who would get to choose.

“Focus,” Chan mutters to himself as he rides toward the outer gates. “Don’t be an idiot.”

But the more he tries to focus on the mission ahead—the war, the kingdom, his duty—the more his thoughts keep circling back to her.

Y/N.

He hates it.

And he knows it’s only going to get worse. The knot in his chest tightens, and it feels like everything’s breaking down.

As Chan rides out of the castle grounds and into the open fields, he finally slows his horse. The wind against his face does little to ease the storm inside him.

Why the hell does it have to be like this?

Why the hell can’t he just be the man she needs?

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut and kept being the knight he’s supposed to be. But no—he had to let it all out.

“Fuck,” he growls, kicking his horse into a faster gallop.

The motion isn’t enough to outrun the thoughts, though. He’s still thinking about her—the way she looked at him, the pain in her eyes. She wants something more than what she’s being given. And maybe—just maybe—she wants him, too.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to marry Taeyong, and that’s the end of it. She’ll never choose him. He’s just a soldier, and she’s a princess.

A knight like him doesn’t get to have the girl.

But goddamn, does it hurt.

Hours later, after the war council has ended, the tension in the castle is palpable. The air is thick with anticipation—war on the horizon, the betrothal looming—and Chan finds himself standing alone in the training yard, his sword drawn.

The practice dummies stand in front of him, but it’s like he’s seeing them through a fog. He slashes the sword through the air, his strikes sharp and controlled, but the anger doesn’t leave. It’s there, coiled tight in his chest, and no matter how many times he swings, it only tightens.

“Damn it!” he yells as he drives the sword into the wooden target, the sound of it echoing through the empty yard.

He stands there for a long moment, panting. The adrenaline is wearing off, but the pain is still there. His breath is uneven, his heart hammering in his chest.

“You’re not going to fix anything by swinging a sword,” he mutters to himself.

But it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from breaking down right here.

He stares at the practice dummy, his grip tight on the hilt of the sword. His thoughts are a mess—thoughts of her, of the war, of the kingdom that has him shackled. All of it.

He wants to scream. He wants to break something.

“Damn it,” he mutters again, his voice cracking as he lowers the sword.

Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s all slipping through his fingers, like sand.

And he can’t do a thing to stop it.

Your POV

The days stretch out before you like an endless expanse, each one heavier than the last. The castle feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation—of the war that looms closer with each passing day, of your betrothal that you cannot escape. The weight of it all presses down on you, until you can barely breathe.

You were born into this life, one of duty, of responsibility, of alliances forged before you had even learned how to speak. Your marriage to Taeyong has been set for years, a union that will strengthen kingdoms and ensure peace. The thought of it stirs nothing but a deep ache in your chest. You’ve seen the way the people around you talk about him, how they admire his strength, his power. But none of them see what you see. They don’t know what it’s like to be trapped by your bloodline, to be expected to put your heart aside for the sake of an entire kingdom.

You can already hear the laughter from the hall below, the celebration in full swing. Everyone is preparing for the union. The prince, the one who will be your future husband, has already arrived. His presence is undeniable, his name on everyone’s lips. He is the kind of ruler everyone expects you to want. But you don’t. You never have.

You pull your gaze from the window, the distant stars barely visible behind the thick, swirling clouds. You know what’s coming—your betrothal, the prince’s arrival at the ceremony. But none of that changes the fact that your heart keeps drifting back to the one man you cannot have.

Chan.

Your feet carry you silently down the hallways, your mind racing. You can hear your own heart pounding, each step feeling heavier than the last. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know he’s not supposed to be in your life the way he is. He’s a knight, a warrior—his duty is to your father, to the kingdom. But that doesn’t change the truth.

He’s been your constant, a reminder of everything you could have had if the world had been different.

When you see him standing there, his figure cutting through the shadows of the corridor, you can feel your breath hitch. You want to run to him, to close the distance between you, but you stop yourself. You know the consequences.

“Chan,” you whisper, your voice trembling more than you want it to.

He turns slowly, his eyes catching yours. There’s something in them—something broken, something raw. The air between you thickens with every passing second.

“What is it, Your Highness?” His voice comes out rough, as though he’s holding back words that could shatter everything.

You step closer, the world shrinking with each movement you make toward him. “You’re leaving soon,” you say, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you go.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at you, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for who you truly are. Not the princess, not the daughter of the king, but the woman who is desperate to be free.

“You should,” he says quietly, his voice tight. “You’ve got a future waiting for you. A future with him. With Taeyong. You have a kingdom to save.”

His words stab deep, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away. “And what if that future isn’t what I want? What if I want something else?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of every emotion you’ve tried to bury for so long.

Chan’s gaze softens, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting with himself. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m not the one you should want. You have everything you need already. You’re bound to him. You’re—”

You don’t let him finish. “No. I’m bound to nothing but the duty they’ve placed on me. I’m not his, and I never will be.”

There’s a moment of silence, a stillness that feels unbearable. You step even closer, your hands reaching for him before you can think better of it. His hand trembles slightly as it brushes against yours, and for a moment, you both just stand there, caught in that unspoken understanding.

“Please,” you murmur, your voice breaking.

He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. He takes a slow step back, his hand slipping from yours, and the distance between you both feels like a chasm. “You can’t ask me to stay,” he says, the words heavy with finality. “You have a life, a future, a kingdom that needs you. I can’t be the one who drags you away from all of that.”

“But what if I don’t care about any of that?” The question hangs between you, thick with the truth neither of you can deny.

He shakes his head, his eyes filled with frustration and something deeper, something more painful. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

And in that moment, as you stand there, you know he’s right. He’s right, and it breaks you.

The sounds of the castle fade into the background as you make your way back to your chambers, the weight of the decision already beginning to settle on your shoulders. You try to ignore the questions swirling in your mind, the urge to run, to leave it all behind. But it isn’t that simple. It never was.

You glance one last time at the window, the stars now completely hidden behind the storm clouds that have gathered. The war is still out there, and your betrothal is still waiting to happen. Your future is set in stone, whether you like it or not.

But what if there’s another way? What if you and Chan—what if you could leave it all behind?

The thought lingers in your mind, but even as you entertain the possibility, you know how dangerous it is. The consequences of disobedience are dire. The kingdom, your father, the prince—they’ll never let you go.

But your heart doesn’t care.

Your heart is already somewhere far away, with a man who could never truly be yours.

The night stretches on, and you can't seem to escape the thoughts that have taken root in your mind. As you sit alone in your chamber, the silence feels suffocating, broken only by the soft flicker of the candlelight. The castle, with its stone walls and corridors filled with echoes of voices long gone, feels like a prison. The weight of your duty, your future, hangs over you like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath, but your thoughts keep racing back to him—Chan. The way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the unspoken words that lingered between you like an invisible thread, binding you together even as he stepped away. You can still feel the heat of his touch, the way his hand trembled when it brushed against yours. It was a reminder that, despite the distance, despite the kingdom that demanded everything of you, something else was possible. Something forbidden.

But is it worth the risk?

The war is coming, and every day that passes brings you closer to the decision you don’t want to make. The decision to marry a man you don’t love, to give yourself away for the good of your kingdom. Taeyong, the prince. His face is still so fresh in your mind—his confident smile, his regal posture—but all you feel when you think of him is cold indifference. He’s everything your father wants. Everything the kingdom wants. But he’s not the man you need. He doesn’t see you. Not truly. Not like Chan does.

You pull yourself from your thoughts, standing and pacing the room restlessly. You can't stay here. Not tonight. Not when everything feels like it’s unraveling, not when your heart is torn between two impossible choices.

As you make your way toward the door, your mind races with a single thought.

You need to see him again. You need to hear his voice, to feel his presence beside you, just one last time before everything changes.

You move quickly through the halls, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that dance along the stone walls. You don’t stop to think. You don’t give yourself the chance to hesitate.

You reach the training building, the familiar scent of leather and iron filling your senses. The sounds of the castle are distant here, the quiet broken only by the occasional whisper of wind against the stone. You spot him almost immediately—his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light as he practices with his sword, his movements fluid and precise, the anger in each strike as sharp as the blade in his hand.

You should turn back. You should leave him to his duty. But you can't.

You can’t leave him.

“Chan,” you say, your voice louder this time, as you step into his line of sight.

He pauses, his sword held still in midair. For a moment, you think he might turn away. But instead, his gaze shifts to you, and in that one glance, you feel everything—the tension, the unspoken desire, the guilt—come crashing down on both of you. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but you can see the conflict in them. The struggle he’s been carrying. The same one you’ve been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, guarded.

You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” You pause, searching his eyes for something, anything. “I need to know if you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowers his sword, stepping toward you. The space between you narrows, but his expression remains unreadable. “You know I do,” he finally says, his voice soft but steady. “But it’s not that simple, Y/N. You’re the princess. You’re betrothed to Taeyong. Your duty isn’t just to yourself.”

“I don’t care about my duty,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Not when it means giving up everything I want.”

Chan’s gaze softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours but pausing just before contact, as if unsure whether to continue or pull away. “You’re asking me to make a choice I can’t. We both know that.”

Your chest tightens, the pain of the truth settling in like a heavy weight. “Then what do we do? I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, Chan. I can’t do this alone.”

“Then come with me,” he says suddenly, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. His voice is raw, desperate, as if he’s finally giving in to the one thing he’s held back for so long. “Leave with me. We can disappear. We can be free of all of this.”

You stare at him, your heart racing. The idea, the possibility, is almost too much to bear. To leave everything behind. The war. The kingdom. Your family. The responsibility that’s been drummed into you since birth.

“I can’t,” you whisper. “I have too much to lose.”

His face falls, the lines of frustration deepening around his eyes. “And what about me? What do I lose if you go? What do I lose if I stay and watch you marry him?” His voice cracks, and you can hear the pain in it. “I’ve already lost you before we even had a chance.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The storm inside you swells, and you can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you feel is him—the rawness of his words, the intensity of the emotions flooding through you. He’s right. You’ve already lost him, haven’t you? You’ve already let fate steal away what could have been.

But is it too late to fight for it? Too late to change the course of your future?

You look at Chan, the man who has seen you for who you truly are, and for the first time in days, you make a decision.

“Let’s run,” you say, your voice trembling but certain. “Let’s leave now. Before it’s too late.”

For a second, there’s nothing but silence. Then, he steps closer, his hand finding yours at last. The warmth of his touch is the only thing that matters now, the only thing that feels real.

But as you stand there, the weight of the world still presses down on you. The war is still coming. The kingdom still demands its price.

You stand in front of Chan, the space between you filled with so much unsaid tension it feels like the air itself is charged. His eyes search yours, but there’s something deeper there, something raw, something that neither of you can escape anymore. You’ve been dancing around it for so long, trying to deny it, trying to bury it beneath duty and expectation, but in this moment, all of it fades into nothingness.

The weight of your responsibility, of the future that awaits you, is still there, but it feels distant now. The world feels distant. All that matters is the man standing in front of you.

“What are you going to do?” His voice is low, tight, as though he’s trying to keep himself in control, but you see through it. You see the struggle, the pain, the desire.

“I don't know,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”

For a moment, his gaze hardens, as if he’s trying to push back the urge to pull you close. He clenches his jaw, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. But even that feels like a battle he’s losing. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N,” he says, his words heavy with something he can’t name.

“I don’t care,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

The silence between you both stretches out, and you can see the internal war raging in him. He looks at you like he’s trying to make a decision he knows he can’t. His eyes flicker between yours, his lips pressed into a thin line.

But then, all at once, the walls he’s built between you both crumble.

He takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for your face with a gentleness that makes your heart race. You don’t step back. Instead, you lean into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely a whisper, his breath hot against your lips. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You can’t answer. You don’t need to. Because in that moment, you both understand.

Without another word, he closes the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s fierce, desperate, and full of longing. All the frustration, the pain, the want you’ve both been holding back is unleashed in that single moment. His mouth moves against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away, his lips firm yet tender, as if he’s trying to pour all of his feelings into you in that one kiss.

Your hands move instinctively, reaching for his chest, your fingers trembling as you feel the heat of his body under the fabric of his tunic. He responds with equal urgency, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic beneath your fingertips, mirroring your own.

The kiss deepens, and everything around you fades away. There’s no kingdom, no war, no betrothal. There’s just him. Just you. The taste of him, the feel of him, the way his body presses against yours, is all that matters.

His hands move to your back, drawing you in even closer, as if he can’t get enough of you. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath coming fast against your skin, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of him—of the way he feels so right, so necessary, even in this chaos.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you gasping for breath, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the kiss. You can’t look away from him. His eyes are dark, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else there too—something dangerous, something reckless.

He speaks your name, his voice hoarse, and you feel it like a plea, a whisper that cuts straight through you.

But it’s too late for words now.

Because this—this kiss—is everything you’ve both been holding back. And you know, deep down, that it’s only the beginning of something neither of you can control.

The room is thick with the heat of your shared breath, the air heavy with desire. You can feel it in the way Chan’s hands tremble as they rest on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if he’s trying to anchor himself. Your heart beats faster, the moment suspended in time, neither of you knowing what to do next, or how far you can go before everything unravels.

You both stand there, breathless, bodies so close you can feel the heat radiating off each other. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, as if trying to push back against the overwhelming pull between you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, the tension between you thick and palpable.

He pulls back just slightly, enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion. “I want you,” he whispers, his voice strained, rough with need. “But this... we can’t do this. Not now. Not like this.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, crashing over the heat of the moment. You nod, even though every part of you wants to scream, wants to tell him that you don’t care about anything else right now. You only care about him, about this connection, this undeniable chemistry that pulls you closer with every passing second.

But you also know he’s right.

You can’t rush this. You can’t let your emotions drive you into something that will change everything. The kingdom, your duties, the war that’s coming—it’s all too much. You’re standing on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move could send you both tumbling into a world neither of you can control.

“I know,” you breathe, your voice soft but firm. You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb brushing over the line of his jaw. “I don’t want to lose myself in this moment. I want you, Chan. But... not like this.”

He exhales slowly, as if the weight of those words brings him some sort of relief. His hand moves to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you—no titles, no responsibilities, just two people who have shared something they can’t take back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words sounding like an apology but also like a promise. “I can’t... I can’t let this be something we regret. Not now.”

The honesty in his voice makes something inside you ache, a longing that feels both impossible and necessary. You want to press forward, to let your instincts take control, to let the walls you’ve built come crashing down. But deep down, you know he’s right. This isn’t the right time, and neither of you is in a place to surrender completely.

You nod again, your fingers tightening around his. “I know,” you repeat, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you feels heavy, but it’s also peaceful in a way—like a quiet understanding has settled between you. You’re not ready for this step, not with everything hanging over you. And yet, there’s a sense of something deeper, something that tells you this is just the beginning.

Chan’s gaze softens as he looks at you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. His lips linger there, warm and tender, like a promise of things yet to come.

“We’ll have our time,” he murmurs, his breath against your skin making your heart skip. “But not now. Not when the world’s about to fall apart.”

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch ground you, as the reality of everything sinks in again—the war, your betrothal, the kingdom. But there’s something else there too. A spark. A connection that you can’t ignore, no matter how much the world tries to pull you apart.

Chan pulls back slightly, his hands still on your waist, but there’s a gentle, almost comforting distance between you now. The tension, while still present, feels more manageable—more like something you can handle together, without giving in to the heat of the moment.

You stand there, wrapped in the quiet of the room, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. Chan’s touch lingers on your waist, warm and grounding, but the space between you has shifted. There’s a subtle tension now, the kind that isn’t immediately uncomfortable, but you both know it’s there—waiting, simmering beneath the surface.

His fingers gently trace along your arm, and you shiver at the contact, the sensation sparking a desire you can’t ignore. But you don’t move away. You don’t want to. The simple act of being close to him, without the urgency of the moment, feels like a small victory.

"I’m sorry," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to... push things. But I don’t want to hurt you."

You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes. There’s a depth in them, something vulnerable, and you can see how much he’s holding back, the same way you are. You reach up, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek, soothing the tension you feel radiating off him.

“You haven’t,” you reply softly. “I don’t regret it. I just... I don’t want this to be a mistake. I don’t want either of us to do something we’ll regret.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and he leans in, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I don’t want to regret it either,” he admits, the words laced with sincerity. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. This isn’t just about us. It’s about everything.”

You know exactly what he means—the kingdom, the future that’s already written for you, the war brewing in the distance. The stakes are high, and neither of you can afford to make a decision based on something so fleeting, something so dangerous.

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his words settle deep in your chest. You lean into his touch again, just for a moment, the connection between you undeniable, despite the distance you’ve created between your bodies. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have something real. Something that’s just ours.”

For a second, Chan hesitates, as if considering your words, weighing them against the gravity of everything. He’s not a man who takes risks lightly—especially not with his duty, his honor, and certainly not with you.

But then, slowly, he nods. “Something real,” he echoes, as if testing the idea. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

The promise in his words stirs something inside you, a flicker of hope you can’t quite snuff out. Even in the chaos that awaits, even with all the obstacles that stand in your way, there’s something beautiful about the thought of finding something real with him—something that isn’t dictated by kingdoms or political alliances. Something that’s yours alone.

His hand slides down to yours, intertwining your fingers. The simple act grounds you, reminds you that no matter what happens, you aren’t alone in this. You have him. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to keep you from drowning in the storm that’s approaching.

But then the door creaks open, and the world outside the room comes rushing back in. The sudden intrusion is like a cold bucket of water, dousing the warmth that had settled between you both.

A voice calls from the hallway, firm, urgent. “Your Highness, the king requests your presence.”

You exchange a glance with Chan, and for a brief moment, neither of you speaks. You both know that the real world—the one that demands sacrifices and decisions you’re not ready to make—has come knocking again.

Chan releases your hand gently, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “We’ll talk again, Y/N,” he says, his voice steady, though you can hear the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

You nod, unable to find the right words. The knot in your chest tightens as you turn toward the door, the weight of your future pressing down on you with every step. But as you reach for the door, you pause, glancing back at him.

For a brief moment, the world seems to disappear. The war, the betrothal, the responsibilities—it all fades into the background. There’s only you and Chan, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if maybe there’s a chance. A chance to change everything.

“I’ll be back,” you whisper.

Chan’s eyes soften, and he nods, though the uncertainty remains in his gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, you step out of the room, back into the world that is pulling you away from everything you’ve ever wanted. But as the door closes behind you, you can still feel the warmth of his touch, the weight of his words, lingering in the air.

The night was unusually quiet, a stillness that hung heavy in the air, as though the castle itself was holding its breath. You had just finished your meeting with the king regarding the wedding that was taking tomorrow and had retired to your chambers. It felt as of the weight of the world pressing down on you with every step. The walls felt closer tonight, suffocating in their coldness, and the thought of tomorrow—of your arrangement with Prince Taeyong—gnawed at your insides.

But you had little time to think on it. The gentle knock at your door broke the silence, and you glanced up, a frown forming as you reached for the door.

"Who is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness that had settled in your mind.

"It’s just me, Your Highness," came a soft, familiar voice. One of the guards, surely. "We’ve been instructed to make sure you’re safe tonight, due to reports of enemy activity near the borders."

You hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. "Very well," you murmured, stepping aside to let the guard in. The man was tall, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. Two other guards stood behind him, equally cloaked in shadow.

Something about the scene felt off, but the exhaustion in your bones made you dismiss the unease. You were about to turn back to your room when the guard at the door stepped inside, closing it behind him with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion.

The moment the door clicked shut, a wave of panic surged through you. You didn’t have time to react before the guard at the door lunged toward you. His hands were quick, too quick, and before you could make a sound, he clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling any cry for help.

Your heart raced as the two other guards advanced, their hands grabbing you with ruthless efficiency. One of them yanked your arms behind your back, and you struggled, but their grip was too strong. The familiar scent of the castle’s stone walls and polished wood began to fade as you were dragged toward the hallway. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the situation.

Why were they here? What were they after?

Your breath quickened, panic rising in your chest, and just as you opened your mouth to scream, the guard’s hand tightened around your throat, cutting off the sound before it could escape.

"Quiet," he hissed in your ear. His voice was cold, foreign—unfamiliar. "We don’t want to hurt you, Princess. But we will if we have to."

The world blurred around you as they moved swiftly through the castle, past hallways and stairwells you knew too well, but they weren’t taking you in the direction of the exit. They weren’t leading you anywhere familiar. The unfamiliar chill of dread crept through your veins as you realized this was no routine guard shift. Something far more sinister was happening.

Minutes later, you were thrown into a dark, cold room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening clang. You stumbled back to your feet, your mind racing. What was happening? Why you? Why now?

Your eyes darted around the darkened space. The only light came from a flickering torch mounted on the wall. You couldn’t see much, but you could hear the echo of footsteps approaching.

"Who are you?" you demanded, your voice shaking with the adrenaline that coursed through you. "Why are you doing this?"

The man who stepped into the light was no stranger. The figure was tall, with dark, sharp features that sent a chill down your spine. His eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. Surprisingly, he was dressed in the colors of your ally—the banner of the Northern Kingdom—a kingdom that had been a sworn friend of your father's for years.

But it wasn’t the man’s face that sent the real terror surging through you. It was the realization that the man before you was not just any soldier, not just another commander.

It was Lord Hwang.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for clarity. "No... it can’t be... you?"

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, so you recognize me." His voice was smooth, laced with a bitterness that sent a shiver down your spine. "I must admit, I was hoping you wouldn't."

You took a step back, your eyes wide with disbelief. "What is this? Why—why are you doing this? You’re one of my father’s allies. You’re supposed to be—"

"An ally?" Hwang interrupted, his voice hard, mocking. "Your father and I have been playing this game for years, Princess. You think I’m just another soldier, just another face in his ranks? No." He chuckled, the sound dark and chilling. "I’ve been playing my own game all along."

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words hit you like a cold wave.

"But you... you’ve been helping us," you whispered, your voice shaking. "You’ve been on our side."

"On your side?" he scoffed. "You’ve always been a pawn in this game, Y/N. A princess. A bargaining chip. And I’ve been here, waiting for the right moment to take what’s mine." He stepped closer, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth, but there was something colder in his eyes now—something far darker. "Your father never knew. But I’ve had my sights set on this kingdom for a long time."

A sickening realization washed over you, and the room spun as you tried to process the words. "You... you’ve been behind the attacks? The sabotage? The uprisings?"

Hwang’s smile widened. "You’re smarter than you look, Princess. Yes, it’s all been me. The raids on the border. The attacks. I’ve been carefully orchestrating everything. All to bring your kingdom to its knees."

Your chest tightened, a sick knot forming in your stomach. "But... why? Why do this? Why to me?"

He leaned in closer, his face now inches from yours, his cold breath ghosting against your skin. "Because, Y/N," he whispered, his voice turning from mocking to something darker, "I want everything. And I will have it all—your kingdom, your throne... and you."

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as his words washed over you. Betrayal. The taste of it was bitter on your tongue. You had trusted him. Believed him. And now, he stood before you, revealing the truth.

"You’ll regret this," you spat, summoning every ounce of defiance you had left, even as fear crept in around the edges. "This isn’t over."

Hwang’s eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, Princess, the only thing that’s over is your kingdom’s future. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay quiet. Because what’s coming next... is far worse than you can imagine."

With those words, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you alone in the darkness, your mind racing, your thoughts spinning as the reality of the betrayal settled over you.

Lord Hwang wasn’t just a traitor.

He was the one who would destroy everything you had ever known.

The sound of the heavy door slamming shut echoed through the room, leaving you in a suffocating silence. Your mind raced, struggling to process everything Hwang had just revealed. You felt the weight of his betrayal like a crushing weight on your chest.

He was behind it all. Every attack, every raid, every plot against your kingdom... it was him.

The reality of the situation sank in, suffocating you. You had trusted him, believed him to be an ally, a friend, and now... now he had used you, manipulated you, and betrayed everything you held dear. The anger boiled within you, mixing with the fear and confusion that still clouded your thoughts.

You tried to steady your breathing, fighting back the wave of panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were. You couldn’t let him know how much this hurt. Not yet. Not when you still had a chance to fight back.

But the more you thought about it, the more helpless you felt. You were locked in this cold, unfamiliar room, a prisoner in your own kingdom, and Lord Hwang had orchestrated it all. Your mind raced, trying to think of any possible way out of this, any way to warn your father, your people.

No, I can’t let him win.

With determination burning in your veins, you pushed aside the fear that threatened to overwhelm you. You scanned the room, looking for anything—anything that might help you escape, any sign of weakness in the carefully laid plans of your captors. But there was nothing. The stone walls were unyielding, and the heavy door was locked tight. You were trapped, and the cold realization of that truth made your heart sink.

A faint noise from outside the room made you freeze. Footsteps. Someone was coming. Your heart began to race again, the adrenaline coursing through you as you tried to prepare yourself for whatever was next. Were they coming to interrogate you? To silence you?

The door creaked open slowly, and a figure stepped into the dimly lit room. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, you thought it might be Hwang again, or perhaps one of his men, here to finish what he had started.

But then you saw the figure more clearly, and your stomach churned.

It was Taeyong—the very man you had been betrothed to.

But he wasn’t here to comfort you or offer assurances. His eyes were cold, distant, and when he spoke, it was with the same chilling tone you had heard from your enemies.

"Y/N," Taeyong’s voice was low, almost amused, as he stepped closer to where you were seated. "I see you’ve finally figured it out."

You stood up from where you had been sitting, your pulse quickening. “You... you knew about this? You knew what Lord Hwang was planning?”

A wicked smile curled on Taeyong's lips. "Of course, I knew. I’ve been a part of it all along. I had to make sure the marriage between our kingdoms went smoothly, after all."

Your eyes widened in shock. “You—you're working with him? You betrayed me too?”

The man's laugh was cold, cruel, as if your shock amused him. "I didn’t betray you, princess. I did what was necessary. This war, our alliance, it’s all a game. You’re just a piece I needed to move into place. Nothing more."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "I was never anything to you, was I?" you whispered, the bitterness rising in your throat.

"Exactly," he said flatly. "You’re nothing but a tool. A way to unite our forces. Your kingdom was never important to me. Just the power it could bring."

Fury bubbled inside you, but you held it back, the realization sinking in even deeper. "So, everything... everything was a lie?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger.

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Don’t be naïve, Y/N. The sooner you accept the reality, the better."

You stood straighter, refusing to let him see how much his betrayal affected you. "You think I’ll just sit here and accept this? That I’ll just let you destroy everything I’ve ever known?"

"Try and stop it," Taeyong said with a smirk, turning to leave. "It’s already too late."

With that, he disappeared through the door, leaving you standing there alone again. Your heart felt as though it had been ripped from your chest. Both Hwang and Taeyong —the two men who had been so close to your father, so trusted—had betrayed you.

But you weren’t going to let this be the end. You would find a way to stop them. You would find a way to escape this.

For now, though, the cold stone walls of your prison mocked you, and you were left with only one thing: determination.

You would fight.

The door slammed shut behind Taeyong, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room once more. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, crashing together in a haze of anger, disbelief, and a growing sense of urgency. You could barely process the depth of the betrayal, but the fire in your chest refused to be extinguished.

I will not be their pawn.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms as the weight of the situation settled in. You knew you couldn’t stay here—physically trapped, yes, but also mentally chained by the lies and manipulations. The more you thought about it, the more everything clicked into place. The subtle manipulation by Lord Hwang, the way Taeyong seemed too eager to go along with the marriage. It had all been a set-up, and you had been a fool to trust either of them.

But no longer. You would find a way to turn this around. You had to.

The first step was getting out of this room.

You quickly scanned your surroundings once more, looking for any weaknesses, any way to escape. There was a small, barred window, too high to reach unless you could climb. The stone walls were unyielding, and the door was locked tight, but you had something they didn’t know about—you had your wits.

You moved to the far corner of the room, crouching down and running your fingers along the stone floor, searching for anything useful. After what felt like an eternity, you found it—a thin crack in the corner near the baseboard. It wasn’t much, but it could be just enough. You pressed your fingers into it, carefully prying at the stone until you heard a faint, satisfying click. The stone moved slightly, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Your heart raced as you knelt down and peered inside. There, buried beneath the dust and grime, was a small but sharp piece of metal—likely left there by someone who had been locked away before you. You grabbed it quickly, testing its weight in your hand. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

With a sharp breath, you stood up and pressed the metal against the lock on the door, feeling the small edges scrape against the mechanism. It wasn’t easy work, but you were determined. You knew that every second counted. You had no idea when they would return, and when they did, you couldn’t be here, couldn’t let them catch you off guard again.

Minutes passed like hours, the sound of your breath the only noise filling the otherwise silent room. The metal bit into the lock, and with a sudden, sharp click, the door opened just enough for you to slip through.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit, and the shadows seemed to mock your every step. You hesitated, listening for any signs of movement. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, but it gave you a brief moment of hope. You could still make it out of the castle. You could still escape.

As you crept down the narrow passageway, your mind raced with the possibility of confronting your father—of finally telling him the truth. Or perhaps you could warn your people, rally them before Taeyong’s plan unfolded fully. But you had to get out first. You had to—

Stop.

A noise from further down the hallway froze you in your tracks. A group of soldiers, their armor clanking lightly, appeared at the far end of the corridor. You stepped back into the shadows, pressing yourself against the stone wall and holding your breath. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, and you cursed silently. It was too soon. They were already here.

You waited for them to pass, but just as you were about to move again, a voice cut through the silence.

"Looking for something?"

Your blood ran cold, and you froze. The voice—low, calm, but laced with something far darker—was unmistakable. You slowly turned, dread sinking in as you came face to face with Taeyong.

He stood at the other end of the hallway, his arms crossed, his eyes piercing through the shadows like a predator watching its prey. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach churn.

"You…" you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his presence was crushing. "You knew I would escape. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it?"

He smirked, a cruel, cold smile that sent a shiver through your spine. "I always knew you were clever, Princess. You’re not as naive as you look. But you’re still too late." He stepped forward, his boots echoing against the stone. "You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve stayed in your room, stayed where I put you."

Your pulse quickened. "You’ve been playing me from the start," you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger. "All of it—every attack, every betrayal—it was you. It was always you."

His eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel satisfaction. "You were never going to win this game, Y/N. Not with me in it. I’ve been pulling the strings the entire time. I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to accept it."

The finality of his words hit you like a slap to the face. This was it. He was the one who had orchestrated everything, and now he was standing before you, closing in with every word he spoke.

"You won’t get away with this," you said through gritted teeth, your body trembling with the need to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here helpless.

He chuckled, taking another step toward you. "Oh, but I already have. You’re already lost. This is just the beginning."

Before you could react, the sound of footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. A group of soldiers appeared, forming a barrier around you. They were quick, efficient, and had you surrounded within seconds. You were trapped once again.

Taeyong’s smirk widened as he stood just out of reach, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Get her back to her cell," he ordered the soldiers. "We’re not done yet."

Your chest tightened as the soldiers moved to grab you. You fought back, struggling against their grip, but it was futile. They overpowered you with ease, dragging you away from the one moment of freedom you had tasted.

Taeyong’s voice echoed in the distance as they pulled you back toward the dungeon. "You’re mine now, Princess. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it."

Your heart hammered in your chest as the soldiers dragged you through the cold, dimly lit hallways. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed in your ears, each step a reminder that you were no longer in control. Taeyong’s words, chilling and final, echoed in your mind.

You’re mine now, Princess.

A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed it down, clinging to the only thing that still gave you hope—your resolve. You would not let this be the end. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you had learned.

They shoved you into the dungeon, the cold air biting at your skin. The stone walls were rough and damp, the scent of mildew and old stone filling your nose. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the familiar, grim surroundings. The cell. The one place you had always feared, and now, here you were again—only this time, you knew you had to escape.

The soldiers didn’t waste any time. They shoved you inside a small, isolated cell, locking the iron bars behind you with a harsh clink. The cold metal of the bars pressed against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let yourself lean against them, your breath shaky. You couldn’t afford to lose yourself here, not when you were so close to everything unraveling.

You straightened up quickly, your mind already working on your next move. Escape. You had to get out. No matter what it took.

A low voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Princess?” asked a voice from the shadows of the cell next to yours. You turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness until a familiar face emerged. The figure stepped closer to the bars, revealing the sharp, worried features of the man you loved.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him. “Chan…”

Your heart pounded as you stared at the beautiful man through the bars, the realization of everything that had just transpired still fresh and raw. His brown eyes met yours, filled with concern, but also a hint of something deeper, something unsaid between you.

"I couldn't let them take you," Chan whispered, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped closer to the bars separating you, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've seen it coming, should've protected you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on you. "He... he played me, Chan. He played us both." Your voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Chan's jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension between you was palpable, thick with unspoken words and the silent acknowledgment of everything you'd both lost. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed the bars in front of him, his grip tight, his body tense with frustration.

"I won’t let him win," he said, his voice low but firm.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer again, and your breath caught in your throat as his hand brushed the side of your face. His touch was gentle, but it sparked something inside of you—a feeling that had been buried under all the chaos. He was close enough now that you could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"I’ve been such an idiot," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his forehead resting against the bars. "I should’ve known. I should've been there for you."

Your heart ached, but the ache was mixed with something else—desire, longing. Without thinking, you reached through the bars, your fingers trembling slightly as you touched his hand.

"Chan..." you whispered, your voice faltering. "I need you."

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, and before either of you could speak again, his lips were on yours, soft and urgent. The kiss was a spark, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. His lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless, his hand sliding around to your neck, pulling you closer.

Your body responded instinctively, your hands reaching through the bars, grabbing onto the front of his tunic, desperate to feel him closer. The kiss deepened, and you felt every inch of tension in your body dissolve, replaced by a burning need.

His lips tasted of the bitterness of everything he’d been through, but there was also a sweetness there—something you couldn’t ignore, something you both had been holding back for far too long. The kiss was filled with a mixture of desperation, regret, and longing, as if the world outside the dungeon no longer existed, and all that mattered was the connection you shared.

Finally, you pulled back, your breath coming in ragged gasps, and looked into his eyes. For a brief moment, you forgot everything—the betrayal, the war, the impending danger. It was just the two of you in this moment, and nothing else seemed to matter.

"Chan..." You could barely form the words, your voice hoarse. "What do we do now?"

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to savor the feeling of you against him. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. "We fight, Y/N. We fight for this. We fight for each other."

The air in the dungeon was thick with the weight of your emotions, the kiss still lingering on your lips. It felt like a moment suspended in time, like something you both had been waiting for but never quite knew how to reach.

Chan’s hand lingered on your shoulder as he stepped back, his gaze intense but full of resolve. "We can’t stay here. Not like this." His voice was low, a barely controlled urgency in his words. He glanced around quickly, making sure no guards were in sight, before moving back to the bars. "I’ll get us out of here. I know a way."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, not only from the intensity of what had just passed between you but from the terrifying reality of what lay ahead. The escape. The unknown.

Chan moved swiftly, eyes scanning the dungeon once again before his gaze settled on the small window in the far corner of the cell. It was barely big enough to fit through, but it was a possible escape route—a plan he had thought of long before, and one that now seemed like their only chance. His hands moved deftly, inspecting the stone around the window. "We’ll need to act quickly," he murmured, almost to himself. "I can make it work. But you need to trust me."

"I do," you said, stepping closer to him. The words came easily, almost instinctively. The trust between you had grown in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances, in the fleeting touches. And now, in the desperation of your situation, it was stronger than ever. "Let’s go."

Chan’s expression softened as he turned back to you, the briefest flicker of warmth in his eyes before the soldier in him took over once more. "I’ll get the guards distracted. You stay low. When I say go, you make your move."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, moving like a whisper through the darkness. You were left standing alone in the small, cold cell, your pulse thundering in your ears. Your eyes darted around, every sound amplified in the silence.

The minutes felt like hours.

Finally, a loud clanging sound broke the quiet—a door opening. A guard’s voice rang out, shouting for the other soldiers to follow him. You could hear the scramble of boots on stone, and your heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Now.

You pushed yourself up against the cold bars of the cell, moving quickly but silently as Chan had instructed. The guards’ voices grew distant, and your breath caught in your throat as you slipped through the small gap where the bars had been loosened. You were free.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you followed Chan’s silent instructions as he led you through hidden passageways beneath the castle. Every step felt like a risk, every breath like a gamble, but you didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t. Not when there was a chance—however small—of escaping everything that had entangled you.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally emerged into the cool night air. The stars above were faint behind the clouds, the moon casting a soft, silvery glow over the landscape. Chan’s hand was firm in yours as he led you across the grounds, away from the looming castle walls and into the woods that bordered the kingdom.

"There’s a caretaker’s cabin up ahead," Chan said, his voice steady but quick, a sense of urgency in his words. "It’s hidden well. We’ll be safe there for a while."

You nodded, your mind spinning as you followed him through the darkened woods. The sounds of the forest filled the air—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of nocturnal creatures. It was peaceful here, so different from the chaos you’d just left behind.

After what seemed like hours, you finally reached a small, humble cabin nestled between the trees. It was quaint, with a thatched roof and wooden walls that looked weathered but sturdy. It felt like a world away from the palace—away from the plots and the battles that awaited you.

Chan opened the door slowly, his eyes scanning the inside before he ushered you in. The cabin was simple but warm, a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. A small bed sat against the wall, and a few basic chairs were scattered around the room. It was the kind of place where you could breathe, where you could rest, where you could pretend for a moment that nothing had changed.

Chan closed the door behind you, the weight of your escape finally starting to sink in. You were safe. For now.

You looked at him, your chest tight with a thousand emotions. "We did it," you whispered.

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he moved toward the fireplace, letting himself drown in his thoughts. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the strain of the day’s events weighing heavily on him. Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes soft but filled with something deeper.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice quiet, almost like a promise.

Your chest tightened as you stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. "And what now, Chan?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What happens next?"

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his lips curved into a slight smile, the first real smile you’d seen from him since everything started. "Now, we survive. We stay hidden. We plan our next move."

You nodded, but there was a weight in your heart. The war, the betrayals, everything was still out there. But in this moment, with him by your side, it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a long while.

For the first few hours at the cabin, you focused on survival—finding stored food, gathering firewood, and securing what little comfort you could. After a quick meal and a roaring fire, a new dilemma presented itself.

"Take the bed, Princess," Chan said, gesturing to the lone cot in the corner. "I don’t mind."

You glanced at him, weighing the offer before shaking your head. "It’s not that small. We can both fit."

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, relenting with a small nod. Turning away, he gave you privacy to change out of your gown and into an oversized tunic you had found. The moment your body hit the cot, exhaustion settled in, the aches of the day momentarily soothed by the minimal comfort it offered.

Chan, meanwhile, undid his boots and then his tunic. You looked up at the wrong—or perhaps right—moment, catching his gaze just as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Enjoying the view, Princess?"

Heat crept up your neck. You buried your face in the pillow, praying he wouldn’t see the flush on your cheeks. But of course, he did.

With a chuckle, he climbed onto the cot beside you. You shifted slightly, offering him what little extra space you could. With a tired sigh, he pulled the blanket over your shoulders, his warmth settling beside you.

You turned to face him just as he closed his eyes. "Thank you."

He cracked one eye open, brow furrowing. "For what?"

"For saving me."

A small smile tugged at his lips, dimples appearing. "Of course, m’lady."

Then, before you could think twice, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. You melted into him, fingers threading through his curls as the kiss deepened. The tension, the desperation of the past hours—gone, lost to this moment. For now, it was just the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, you shifted onto his lap. Chan’s grin widened as he steadied you, fingers pressing into your hips.

"Desperate, are we, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."

His hands tightened slightly around your waist as you settled your palms against his broad shoulders, your heart pounding in time with the flickering firelight.

He held your gaze for a lingering moment before crashing his lips onto yours, the sudden force making you gasp against his mouth. This time, there was no hesitation—just raw intensity. His hands roamed your waist, tracing firm, possessive lines down to your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself in the moment. You tangled your fingers in his curls, giving a gentle tug, and the deep, guttural groan he let out sent a shiver down your spine.

"Chan," you breathed between heated kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Chan..."

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Yes?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as warmth crept up your neck. You swallowed, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"I—I haven’t really... done this before."

His expression softened instantly, the fire in his eyes flickering with something deeper—understanding, patience. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "Then we'll go slow," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Only what you're comfortable with, Princess."

As the night stretched on, Chan remained true to his word, never pushing or pressuring you beyond what you were comfortable with. His touches stayed feather-light, his kisses never straying from your lips or jaw unless you guided him elsewhere, letting you set the pace.

Heat pooled low in your stomach as your hips began to rock against his, a slow, teasing rhythm that he matched effortlessly. You could feel him hardening beneath you, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your core through the thin fabric of his trousers. The low, needy groan that left his lips sent sparks of electricity arcing through your veins, igniting a fire deep within you.

"Princess," he whispered hotly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, sending delicious shivers down your spine. "You're making it quite difficult to behave myself."

Embarrassment flooded through you at his words, heat rising to your cheeks, but it was quickly chased away by a wave of red-hot desire. You rolled your hips again, reveling in the way his fingers tightened on your waist, digging into your soft flesh as if trying to ground himself in the moment.

"I don't want you to behave," you murmured, feeling bold and brazen under his heated gaze.

His eyes flashed at your words, darkening with a sudden intensity that sent a thrill through you. He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize your taste. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

But suddenly, even the thin fabric of your clothes felt too much, too heavy and confining against your oversensitive skin. You pulled away just long enough to yank the tunic over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought, leaving you completely bare before him.

His eyes darkened even further as they raked over your naked body, taking in every curve and plane with a hunger that bordered on reverence. He reached up, cupping your breast in his calloused palm, his thumb circling your nipple teasingly. You gasped at the touch, electricity arcing from your chest straight down to your core, hips bucking involuntarily as you arched into his hand, silently begging for more.

"Chan," you whimpered, frustration and need mixing together as his touch continued to tease, to dance along the edges of what you really wanted. "Please."

He chuckled against your skin, the sound low and rich and full of dark promise, sending shivers down your spine. "Please, what?" he murmured, lips brushing against your throat, breath hot against the damp skin there.

"Touch me," you demanded, grinding your hips harder against his erection, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. "I need—"

But before you could finish, his hands were already moving, one slipping between your bodies to stroke at your most sensitive spot. You cried out, hips bucking wildly as he circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, the calloused skin providing just the right amount of friction. His teeth grazed against your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you writhed against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you.

"Is this what you need, Princess?" he murmured, lips moving against your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the sting of his bites. "You need me to make you fall apart on my fingers?"

You could only nod frantically, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment. He kept stroking, adjusting his pace to match the desperate rock of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every brush of his thumb, every roll of his hips against yours.

And when his teeth sank into your neck, just hard enough to sting, just hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge, you shattered apart, crying out his name like a prayer as ecstasy crashed over you, wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure pulsing through your veins.

Afterwards, you collapsed against him, boneless and spent, your body trembling with aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed gentle kisses to your hair, your temple, anywhere he could reach.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice tremulous with want. "I need more. I want to feel you inside me – all of you."

His gaze darkened with desire, understanding your meaning instantly. With a soft groan, he shifted, removing his trousers so that there were no barriers between you. Your eyes roamed over his nude form, drinking in the planes and angles of his body, the mix of strength and vulnerability in his bare skin.

Gently, he eased you onto your back on the narrow cot, settling himself over you, his body a warm, welcome weight. His hardness brushed against your slick folds, and you shuddered at the contact, your hips rising to meet him instinctively. "Are you certain?" he rasped, even as his body shook with the effort of holding back.

In answer, you reached down between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, your intent clear. "Please, Chan. I need you. I'm ready."

With a shuddering breath, he began to press into you slowly, with exquisite care. You gasped at the initial stretch, your body adjusting to accommodate him, the unfamiliar sensation of being filled, completed. Inch by tantalizing inch, he sheathed himself within you, until at last, you were joined completely.

For a long moment, he held himself still, buried to the hilt inside you, allowing you time to adjust. He kissed you deeply, a tangle of tongues and teeth, before he began to move, setting a slow, rolling pace. Pleasure built between you with each glide, each rocking thrust, an inferno of sensation. Your legs wound around his hips, heels digging into his lower back, urging him impossibly deeper.

"Princess," he groaned against your lips, "you feel incredible. I've never...I can't..." He trailed off with a shudder, losing himself in the rising tide of passion, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the feel of you gripping him tightly, the perfect slide of your body against his.

You met his movements, angling your hips to take him even deeper, relishing in the incredible fullness, the sweet ache that bordered on pain, your body stretched to its limit. With each stroke, the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter, bringing you closer and closer to the brink. Your fingernails dug into his back, scoring his skin, urging him on, desperate for the crescendo you could feel building.

His thrusts grew faster, harder, the steady rhythm fracturing into desperate, pounding need. You moved with him, helpless cries spilling from your lips, lost to everything but the slide of his body in yours, the symphony of passion rising between you. At last, with a sharp cry, your climax overtook you, inner muscles clenching around him as ecstasy crashed through you, a tidal wave of sensation that left you breathless.

Feeling you shatter beneath him, your body gripping him like a vice, Chan followed you over the edge with a ragged groan, his hips slamming against yours erratically as he spilled himself deep inside you, filling you with his essence. For a long moment, you clung to each other, chests heaving, skin damp with sweat, as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded, leaving you both boneless and sated.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

"That was... incredible," you murmured, your voice still laced with breathlessness.

A slow smile spread across his lips, his dark eyes soft with both satisfaction and something deeper—something reverent. "You are incredible," he corrected, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You nestled closer, your fingers idly drawing lazy patterns over his skin. A deep sense of peace settled over you, a contentment that went beyond mere words. "Neither have I," you admitted, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "It's like we were made for each other."

His hold on you tightened slightly, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he never wanted to let go. "We were," he murmured with quiet certainty. "And I don’t ever intend on letting you go"

Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. "You don’t have to," you whispered, the words slipping out like a vow. "I'm yours, Chan. Forever."

A flicker of something intense passed over his features—relief, devotion, love. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. This one wasn’t hurried or desperate; it was a promise, a seal on the words you had spoken. A kiss filled with all the love, passion, and unspoken commitments that tethered you to him, now and always.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

The cabin was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest outside. You could still feel the night’s chill clinging to your bare skin as you woke, blinking a few times before you realized that Chan had gotten up.

He stood across the room, hands braced against the wooden table, his head bowed slightly as he took deep breaths. The tension in his shoulders had not eased, and you could see the war waging inside of him. He had fought for you, risked everything to bring you here, but neither of you knew what would come next.

“Chan,” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he let out a slow exhale before straightening. “I should go check the perimeter. Make sure we weren’t followed.”

“You think Taeyong will send someone after us this quickly?” The question tasted bitter on your tongue.

Chan’s jaw clenched. “If he realizes you’re missing, he won’t rest until you’re back in his grasp. He’s not the type to let go of something he thinks belongs to him.”

A shiver ran through you, though it wasn’t from the cold. “Then we don’t let him find me.”

Chan finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. “It won’t be that simple, Princess.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “Then tell me what we do,” you whispered. “Because I can’t—I can’t go back.”

His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, he was in front of you. His calloused fingers brushed your cheek, the touch grounding you in a way nothing else could. “I won’t let him take you,” he murmured, the promise thick in his voice. “Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched. “Then we fight.”

Chan let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “It’s not just a fight. It’s a war.”

You knew that. You had known that the moment you realized the man you had been promised to was the one behind your abduction. But the truth didn’t scare you as much as the thought of being trapped again. Of being used as a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“I’d rather die fighting than go back to him,” you said firmly.

Chan’s expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

His hand tightened against your cheek for a moment, his thumb grazing over your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled away. “Go back to sleep. I’ll return soon.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that sleep would not come easy now, but you knew it was useless. Chan was a soldier first, and right now, his instincts told him to protect. To scout the area. To make sure you were safe.

So you let him go.

You watched as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and slipped out into the night, his silhouette disappearing into the trees. Only then did you let yourself collapse onto the bed again.

As the fire crackled beside you, one thought remained at the forefront of your mind.

Taeyong would come for you.

And you had to be ready.

The hours passed slowly. Every creak of the wooden cabin, every gust of wind outside made your heart lurch in fear. Sleep was impossible. Instead, you lay curled beneath the blanket, staring at the flickering fire, waiting for Chan to return.

When the door finally creaked open, your breath caught. Your fingers gripped the edges of the blanket instinctively, but the tension eased the moment you saw Chan step inside. His hair was damp with sweat, his cloak dusted with dirt and leaves, but his sharp eyes met yours immediately, scanning you like he was making sure you were still safe.

“Nothing,” he muttered, closing the door behind him and bolting it shut. “No signs of anyone tracking us.”

Relief flooded you, but it was short-lived. “That won’t last,” you said quietly. “Taeyong—he’ll come eventually.”

Chan let out a slow breath and tugged off his cloak, tossing it onto the chair. “Yeah. I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders still tight with tension.

You sat up. “Then what do we do?”

Chan hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his expression unreadable. “First, you rest,” he said, his voice softer now, but firm. “You’re exhausted.”

You shook your head. “So are you.”

He exhaled sharply, then crouched down in front of you. His hands rested on the edge of the blanket, close but not quite touching. “Y/N.” His voice was quieter now, but there was something raw in it, something that made your chest tighten. “I need you to trust me.”

You searched his face, finding nothing but determination and something deeper—something unspoken. “I do.”

His lips parted slightly, as if the words had caught him off guard. His fingers twitched against the fabric, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The fire cast golden light over his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes.

Your heart pounded.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

Chan didn’t move away.

Instead, his hand turned, his fingers wrapping around yours. “I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, like a promise.

You swallowed. “And if they find us?”

His jaw clenched. “Then I’ll fight.”

His grip on your hand tightened, just for a moment, before he let go. “Get some sleep,” he said again, standing up. “I’ll stay up for a while, keep watch.”

You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion in your bones was undeniable. So instead, you nodded, reluctantly lying back down.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Chan sit on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. His presence was steady, grounding.

Soon you were fast asleep, letting the darkness of slumber wash over you.

The night passed in restless fragments. You drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by the echo of Taeyong’s voice in your memories, by the phantom sensation of cold metal shackles around your wrists. Each time you stirred, you felt Chan’s presence nearby—silent, unwavering. He never left the edge of the bed. Even when exhaustion surely clawed at him, he stayed.

By the time the first traces of dawn crept through the cabin’s small window, you turned onto your side, blinking up at him. He was still awake. His posture was tense, his gaze fixed on the dying embers in the fireplace.

"You didn’t sleep," you murmured.

Chan’s lips quirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Couldn’t."

You pushed yourself up slowly, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs. "You can’t protect me if you collapse from exhaustion."

His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand down his face. "I’ll rest when we’re safe."

"You always say that," you whispered. "But when will that be? When we’re halfway across the kingdom? When Taeyong’s forces are at the doorstep?" You exhaled, voice growing softer. "You’re not invincible, Chan."

His eyes flickered to yours, something dark and unreadable shifting behind them. "I can’t afford to be anything else right now."

The weight of his words settled between you. You understood—gods, you understood. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch him break himself for your sake.

You hesitated before reaching out, your fingers brushing against his. He stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

"Just for a little while," you murmured. "Close your eyes. Let yourself breathe."

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze searched yours, like he was trying to find something—assurance, maybe, or a reason to allow himself this small mercy.

Finally, with a slow, reluctant sigh, he gave in.

"Fine," he muttered, shifting back against the headboard. "But only for a little while."

A small smile ghosted your lips as you laid back down beside him. The space between you was small, but the warmth of his presence was enough. His breathing slowed, his shoulders gradually losing some of their tension.

The peace didn’t last long.

You didn’t know how much time had passed—an hour, maybe two—before a sound outside snapped you both back into reality. A rustling. Faint, but deliberate. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to the wind or the shifting trees.

Chan was already moving before you could react. His body tensed, hand reaching instinctively for the dagger strapped to his belt. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. Your heart pounded as you sat up, gripping the blanket like it could somehow ground you.

The rustling came again. Closer this time.

Chan’s eyes darted to the door, then to the small window above the fireplace. His movements were careful, controlled, but you could see it—the flicker of unease in his gaze.

Then, a voice. Low. Muted. Speaking in hushed tones.

Not alone.

Your stomach twisted. Had they found you already? Was it Taeyong’s men? You gripped the sleeve of your tunic with pure fear.

Chan shifted closer to the door, positioning himself between you and whatever was outside. He gripped the dagger tightly, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

Then—

A knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

Your breath hitched.

Chan didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then, a voice—gravelly, older, laced with something familiar.

"Open up."

Chan’s eyes narrowed. He hesitated only a second before unbolting the door and pulling it open just enough to see. You couldn’t see who was outside, but Chan’s body relaxed a fraction.

A gruff sigh. "Took you long enough," the voice muttered.

Then the door opened wider, and an older man stepped inside. His beard was streaked with gray, his clothes worn from travel. But his eyes—sharp, assessing—locked onto you immediately.

"So, this is the princess."

You stiffened. Chan stepped slightly in front of you again, his protective instinct flaring. "Not here," he muttered. "Talk inside."

The man gave a curt nod and shut the door behind him. The air in the room shifted, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Who is he?" you finally asked, voice quieter than you intended.

Chan glanced at you, then back at the man. "An old friend."

The man snorted. "That’s one way to put it." His gaze flicked back to you. "And I’m the one who’s gonna make sure you don’t end up back in that bastard prince’s hands."

Your breath caught.

Chan’s grip tightened on the dagger. "You said you had a way out."

The man’s expression darkened. "I do. But it won’t be easy. And if we don’t move fast, you’re as good as caught."

Chan’s posture remained rigid, his eyes locked onto the man with the same guarded intensity he always carried. You knew that look. It meant he was calculating, deciding if he could trust this so-called friend.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling.

"How do you know about Taeyong?" you asked, your voice firmer now, the fear buried beneath your growing anger.

The man turned his sharp gaze on you, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. "You think the world doesn’t know? Word spreads fast when a prince betrays his own kingdom. Taeyong’s been buying loyalty left and right, gathering allies in the shadows. The moment he took you, the balance shifted."

Your stomach twisted. You’d known Taeyong was dangerous, but hearing it spoken so plainly—hearing that his influence reached beyond the castle walls—made it feel even more real.

Chan’s grip tightened around the dagger. "How do we know you’re not one of them?"

The man sighed, rubbing his temples. "Because if I was, you’d be dead already, boy. And the princess would be back in chains." His eyes flicked to you again, softer this time. "I’m here because I owe someone a debt. Someone who would want her safe."

You frowned. "Who?"

The man hesitated for just a moment. Then he said a name you hadn’t expected.

"Your mother."

Your breath caught.

Your mother had died years ago—before Taeyong, before war had ever loomed on the horizon. She had been a queen of grace and wisdom, beloved by the people, and yet her death had always felt… off. A fever, they had said. A sudden illness.

But now, hearing this man speak of her as if she had planned for something beyond the grave—

Your heart pounded. "You knew her?"

The man nodded slowly. "Not well. But well enough to know she saw this coming. She told me if things ever turned, I’d have to make sure her daughter didn’t end up a pawn in someone else’s game."

Your hands clenched in your lap.

Your mother had known.

And she hadn’t told you.

Chan was watching you carefully, his gaze softening just a fraction. You weren’t sure if it was because he saw the turmoil brewing inside you or because he already knew this truth and had been waiting for you to find out.

You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus. There would be time for grief later. Right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

"What’s the plan?" Chan asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

The man straightened. "There’s a caravan leaving before sunrise. Merchants, mostly. They don’t ask questions, and they don’t check faces too closely. You slip in with them, make it across the river, and from there, we get you to the rebellion."

Chan tensed beside you. "The rebellion?"

The man smirked. "You think you’re the only ones who want Taeyong gone?"

Your breath came faster. There were people out there fighting against him. People who hadn’t been silenced.

Hope.

It was dangerous, but it was there.

Chan turned to you then, searching your face. "It’s your choice, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision settle on your shoulders. Running had never felt like enough, but fighting… fighting was something new.

And maybe it was time.

You met Chan’s eyes and nodded.

"We go."

The man—who still hadn’t given his name—nodded in approval, moving swiftly to the small wooden table near the hearth. He pulled out a rolled-up map from his satchel, flattening it against the surface. The firelight flickered over its surface, casting shadows across the jagged lines marking the kingdom’s borders.

Chan moved closer, standing protectively near you, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. His body was tense, ready for anything.

The man tapped a spot near the eastern river. "The caravan is camped here for the night. They’ll move before dawn. If we reach them in time, we can blend in before the morning checkpoint." His finger traced the route southward. "Once we cross into the borderlands, we break off. The rebellion has outposts in the foothills."

You studied the map, your stomach twisting with nerves. "How do we know they won’t recognize me?"

The man glanced at you, his eyes flicking briefly over your posture, then back to the map. "It’s not about recognition. It’s about being inconspicuous. We’ll keep to the shadows, move quickly, and avoid the main roads. You’ll have to be just another face in the crowd, no different from the many others that pass through the checkpoints."

You frowned, knowing how much effort it would take to mask everything that set you apart. Every detail of your life—every expectation and every burden—had been formed under the spotlight of the royal court. To pretend you were ordinary felt impossible, but survival demanded it.

Chan’s jaw clenched. "We won’t be able to just walk in and out without drawing attention."

The man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve seen the guards at the checkpoint. They’re not looking for anyone in particular. If we move quickly and stay to the back roads, we’ll get through undetected."

You swallowed, your mind racing through the possibilities. "How will we know where to go once we’re past the checkpoint?"

"We’ll stay close, and I’ll guide us from there. You don’t need to worry about the rest." His voice was firm, a reassurance that didn’t quite reach your chest. "Now, let’s prepare."

~~~TIME SKIP~~~

It took you three days to meet up with the rebellion.

The journey had been grueling. Each day felt like it bled into the next, the urgency pressing down on you with every step. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, and the silence of the wilderness was only broken by the constant rush of your footsteps and the occasional murmur of Chan and the man leading you.

By the time you reached the rebellion’s hideout, you were exhausted, physically and mentally. The exhaustion settled deep into your bones, but you couldn’t allow yourself to relax just yet. Not when the stakes were so high.

The hideout wasn’t much—just an old, decrepit farmhouse hidden deep in the forest. The rebellion's members were holed up here, their movements quiet and calculated. The moment you stepped into the small, dimly lit space, your eyes darted around, taking in the ragtag group of fighters. They looked wary, sizing you up, but there was something else there too. Recognition. The kind that came from desperation, from being on the edge of something bigger than themselves.

"You’re late," a voice cut through the silence.

A tall, lean man stepped forward from the shadows. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the hardened exterior.

"We had some... complications," Chan said, his voice tight but steady. "But we made it."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Complications? Such as?"

You tensed, but Chan gave you a brief, reassuring glance, his hand resting subtly on your lower back. He was trying to calm you, to keep you from reacting. The last thing you needed now was for the rebellion to question your loyalty or your intentions.

"We ran into some trouble along the way," Chan continued, his gaze unwavering. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

The man nodded slowly, as though weighing Chan’s words. "And the princess?" His eyes flickered to you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "I take it she's the reason for the delay."

You straightened, ready to speak, but Chan beat you to it, his tone laced with a warning. "She’s with me. And she’s no less determined than the rest of us."

The man eyed you again, lingering for just a moment longer before he nodded. "Fine. I’ll leave it to you to explain."

He motioned for you to follow him, and you did, Chan at your side as the others parted to let you through. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all watching, studying every move you made. And why wouldn’t they? You were no longer the princess. You were an outsider, just another face among them. But they didn’t know who you truly were, not really. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep up the pretense.

Inside a small, makeshift war room, the leader of the rebellion—whom you hadn’t yet met—stood over a table littered with maps. He didn’t look up as you entered, but the tension in the room grew, a thick silence hanging between you all.

"You made it," the leader said, his voice low and cold. "Now we plan."

Chan leaned in, listening intently as the leader began to outline the next steps, but you found your mind drifting, your thoughts tumbling over one another. You had been living a lie for so long now—pretending to be someone you weren’t, pretending you were just like them. But the rebellion was your only hope now. It was the only chance you had left to survive, and perhaps to find something more than just survival.

Your gaze flickered over to Chan, his face hardened with focus as he listened to the plans. His presence was a constant, a steadying force in the chaos that surrounded you. But even with him by your side, you couldn’t escape the weight of the situation, the constant worry gnawing at you.

"You’re not alone," Chan murmured quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. He hadn’t even turned to look at you, but his words wrapped around you like a protective shield.

You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I’d end up here."

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. "You’ll get through this. We all will. Together."

You wanted to believe him, to let the words settle in your chest and replace the fear, but it wasn’t that simple. The rebellion was still a risky gamble, and so many unknowns lay ahead. But for now, you had no choice but to place your trust in them—and in him.

The leader of the rebellion finally looked up, his gaze settling on you. "You’ve been trained in the ways of the court. You know how to play a part. But this is different. The rebellion needs more than just your skills. We need your full commitment. Your life, your safety—it’s not yours anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. You were here to fight, to take a stand, and there would be no turning back.

"Good," the leader said, his tone colder than before.

You glanced at Chan, catching the fleeting warmth in his eyes.

The days leading up to the attack on the castle felt like a blur, each one filled with training, planning, and a constant sense of anticipation. The rebellion had gathered their forces, and the tension in the air was palpable. You had taken your place among them, no longer a princess in a palace, but a fighter with everything on the line. But despite the intensity of it all, there was still a sense of unease gnawing at you—a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Chan had been by your side every step of the way, his presence a steadying force. There was no denying the bond that had grown between you both, the unspoken connection that had deepened over the past days. Yet, despite all the closeness, he had kept a certain distance, as if shielding you from the full weight of the battle that was about to unfold.

"Stay behind the lines," Chan had told you more than once, his voice softer than usual, the concern clear in his eyes. "It’s not safe for you out there."

You knew it was a command, not a suggestion, but part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. You had already proven yourself capable, already fought beside him, and yet, here you were, told to stay back.

"You can’t tell me to just stand by," you’d snapped once, your voice sharp. "This isn’t just your fight, Chan. I’m in this with you. No matter what."

He had said nothing in response, just a flicker of something in his gaze—something unreadable. He was trying to protect you, and for all his strength, his resolve, there was still that vulnerability when it came to you. It made your chest tighten, but you swallowed the feelings down. You couldn’t let them get in the way.

As the first light of dawn crept across the sky, the rebellion gathered in formation. The drums began to sound, signaling the start of the battle. You stood behind the lines, sword in hand, heart pounding as the anticipation grew.

"I’ll be back," Chan said to you, his eyes locked on yours for a beat longer than usual. There was a fleeting tenderness there, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Stay safe."

And then, with a final squeeze of your hand, he was gone, charging into the fray with the rest of the rebels. You watched as he disappeared into the chaos, your heart in your throat.

The battle was chaos from the start. The clash of steel, the shouts of men, the roar of battle cries—it was overwhelming. You remained behind the front lines, doing what you could to help where necessary, coordinating the defense, directing others, but every moment you spent away from the fight felt like an eternity.

Then, a shout broke through the noise. A loud, desperate cry that made your blood run cold.

"Chan!" you heard someone yell, the voice panicked.

Your heart skipped, and without thinking, you darted toward the front lines, your feet moving faster than you could process. You knew you shouldn’t be there. You knew it wasn’t safe. But you had to see for yourself.

As you emerged from behind the barricades, you saw him—Chan, bloodied and staggering, a sword wound across his side. His armor was dented, his face set in a grimace of pain, but he was still fighting, still pushing forward, swinging his sword with sheer determination.

You rushed toward him, but someone else got there first. The rebels around him were struggling to keep the enemy at bay, but it wasn’t enough. He was too far from the rest of the forces, and the enemies were closing in.

“Chan!” you shouted again, panic rising in your chest. You pushed your way through the chaos, your heart hammering as you neared him.

He saw you, his expression flickering with something between relief and frustration. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, strained, but there was a softness to it—a concern that made you want to scream.

“Chan, you’re hurt!” You reached him, gripping his arm to steady him, your eyes scanning the gash on his side. The blood was flowing too fast.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, but it was clear he wasn’t. “You need to go back—this is too dangerous for you.”

“Not without you.” You refused to leave his side, knowing time was running out.

His hand found yours, his grip weak but insistent. “I’m not going anywhere until we win this,” he said, though his words were laced with pain. The enemy wasn’t stopping.

The battle had shifted again. More reinforcements for the other side. But you couldn’t just leave him, not when he needed you.

“Chan, you’re bleeding—you're not fine!" You pulled him closer to you, desperation taking over. He winced, clearly in more pain than he let on. The sight of him like this twisted something in your chest, the vulnerability of the man who had always been your protector, now so exposed, so human.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, though his breath was becoming shallow. "We need to push them back, or we won’t make it."

Your heart was racing, but your mind was focused. "We need to get you out of here first."

A sharp cry came from another soldier, and the pressure of the situation heightened. With the enemy bearing down on them, it was clear you had no time to waste. You gritted your teeth and grabbed Chan’s arm, pulling him toward a small alcove that offered some cover.

"We’ll regroup," you said, though it was more of a prayer than a plan. You didn’t care about the battle right now—just getting him safe.

But before you could do anything more, an explosion rocked the area nearby. The ground trembled beneath your feet, and smoke filled the air. You instinctively pressed yourself against Chan, shielding him as best as you could.

The battle raged on, the sound of weapons clashing and soldiers shouting filling your ears. You had no idea what was happening around you, only that you had to keep moving.

But when you turned to look at Chan, you saw the strain in his eyes, the way his hand weakly held yours, and you knew. This battle wasn’t over, but for him, it was. He was slipping, and fast.

"Stay with me, Chan," you whispered, your voice breaking as you guided him further away from the front lines. "Please."

"I’m here," he whispered back, but it was faint, and you knew the fight in him was dimming. You couldn’t leave him. Not now.

The sound of the battle was fading, but it didn’t matter. You just had to get him to safety.

You refused to let go of Chan’s hand as you dragged him toward the safety of a nearby tent, your heart pounding with every ragged breath he took. His blood was warm against your skin, seeping from the wound in his side at an alarming rate. He was trying to keep himself upright, but you could feel his strength slipping.

“Just a little further,” you urged, voice tight with panic. You weren’t sure if you were saying it to reassure him or yourself.

Chan let out a low groan, his body sagging against yours. “You should’ve stayed back,” he murmured, his voice weaker than you’d ever heard it.

“And let you bleed out on the battlefield?” you snapped, adjusting your grip on his arm. “Not happening.”

Finally, you reached the tent. Two rebel soldiers rushed forward, their expressions morphing into shock when they saw Chan’s condition.

“Get a healer!” you barked at them. One of the soldiers ran off without hesitation, while the other helped you ease Chan down onto a pile of blankets.

Chan hissed as he landed on his back, his hand gripping yours weakly. His face was pale, his forehead slick with sweat, but his gaze remained locked on you. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You shook your head fiercely. “Don’t say that. I’m right where I need to be.”

The flap of the tent burst open, and the healer rushed in, dropping to Chan’s side with practiced efficiency. You scooted back to give them space, your hands shaking as you watched them work.

He was going to be okay. He had to be.

The healer pressed cloth to Chan’s wound, and he tensed, his jaw tightening in pain. His fingers curled into the blankets, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“You’re lucky the blade didn’t go deeper,” the healer muttered, pulling out supplies from their satchel. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need rest.”

Chan huffed out a tired breath. “No time for that,” he mumbled.

You clenched your fists. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve healed,” you told him firmly. “I don’t care how much you want to throw yourself back into battle.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but was too exhausted to do it. “Bossy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, despite the lump in your throat. “Someone has to be, since you clearly have no sense of self-preservation.”

The healer shot you both a look. “If you want him to survive, let me do my job.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, shifting back even further, though you refused to leave the tent.

Chan’s eyes flickered toward you as the medic worked, his gaze softening. “You really aren’t leaving, huh?”

You shook your head. “Not a chance.”

His fingers twitched slightly, and you reached out, lacing them with yours. His grip was weaker than before, but he still held on. Even now, in the middle of a war, with blood staining your hands and chaos raging outside, you knew one thing for certain—

“I love you.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them. You meant them with every fiber of your being.

Chan’s breath hitched. His hand squeezed yours as tightly as he could manage. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice raw, like he’d been holding it back for too long.

A tear finally escaped down your cheek, but you didn’t care. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m going to make sure you’re okay,” you promised.

Chan smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “With you here… I already am.”

The battlefield was chaos—clashing steel, dying screams, and the thick stench of blood in the air. But despite the wreckage of war, one undeniable truth cut through the carnage: the tide had turned in your favor.

The enemy forces, once ruthless under Lord Hwang's command, were breaking. You could see it in their frantic movements, the way they hesitated before striking. The moment the news spread—Lord Hwang was captured—their will to fight crumbled.

Your father, alongside Taeyong, had fallen in battle, cut down in the very war he had, without realizing it, waged against his own people.

The sight of his lifeless body on the bloodstained field had sent a shiver through you, not of grief, but of finality. His reign had ended not in grandeur, not in control, but in ruin. And now, as the last of his soldiers dropped their weapons, as Taeyong was killed and Hwang was captured, it was truly over.

A sharp cry of victory erupted from your troops. The war—the one that had stolen so much, that had nearly cost you everything—was won.

A strong, familiar hand grasped yours. You turned, breath catching in your throat as Chan stood beside you, blood seeping from a wound in his side, but alive. Alive and standing with you, despite the battle that had nearly torn him from you.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed, your fingers tightening around his.

His lips twitched, exhaustion weighing on his features. “It’ll take more than a battlefield to keep me from you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He had fought for you, bled for you, and yet he was still standing.

Your throat tightened, your heart aching with the weight of everything you had both endured. “I don’t want to lose you again, Chan.”

He exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against yours. “You won’t. I swear it.”

And then, despite the battlefield, despite the onlookers, despite the remnants of war still surrounding you—he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss of desperation, or relief. It was a promise.

A promise of forever.

One month had passed since the war ended.

The city, once darkened by the rule of your father, was beginning to heal. The streets bustled with life, no longer weighed down by fear. The people—your people—had chosen you as their queen, and with that came the responsibility of rebuilding everything your father had destroyed.

As you stood in the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with anticipation. The golden crown rested in the High Councilor’s hands, moments away from being placed upon your head.

You glanced to your side, where Chan stood, dressed in ceremonial attire. His wound had healed, though faint scars remained—a reminder of the battle that had nearly taken him from you. But more than that, it was a reminder of everything he had fought for. Everything you had fought for together.

When the crown was finally placed atop your head, the room erupted into cheers. You weren’t just the daughter of the fallen king. You weren’t just the girl who had once been trapped behind the palace walls.

You were the queen.

Chan’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours as he leaned down slightly, murmuring just for you, “So, how does it feel?”

You turned to him, a smile playing at your lips. “A little less terrifying with you beside me.”

His grip tightened. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The coronation bled into the wedding—two moments intertwined, symbolizing not just the end of an era, but the beginning of something greater.

As you stood before the people, vows exchanged beneath the flickering glow of the palace lanterns, you realized something—this wasn’t just about winning a war. This was about everything that came after. About building something new, something better.

As Chan kissed you before the crowd, sealing your marriage with the weight of love and devotion, you knew one thing for certain.

This was the beginning of forever.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ © @changbinniescurlyhair

[vijaxx]

color me your color, baby

warnings: none! fluff :)

summary: you and billie both have synesthesia VERY differently

“what am i?” billie asked, looking at you from the other side of the room. you and her had been dating for only a few weeks, but we’re close friends for years before. when she was open about her synesthesia with you, you found yet another thing you had in common with her.

you paused, thinking for a moment. you saw billie as so many different things, though you landed on “pink fading into yellow”. she quirked an eyebrow up at you, grabbing the plate of peanut butter vegan chocolate cookies before sitting down next to you on the couch. “really?” she asked, amused.

you nodded. having synesthesia for you was both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, the special connections your brain made was interesting and very cool. on the other, it could be a major point of stress and overstimulation.

you and billie shared two types of synesthesia—chromesthesia (music = color and shapes) and auditory-tactile (music/noise = senses), and you also had emotion-color, meaning you saw people’s emotions and personalities as colors.

she hummed softly, a tune you hadn’t ever heard before. “pale green,” you said abruptly. she looked up, “see i thought the melody was more of a dark blue”. you scoffed, “no.”

she shrugged before turning on a specific playlist. this was a game now—one that you had never played before. “causal” by chappell roan played through her speakers in the living room softly.

“what do you think of this one?”

you hummed in thought, “light teal and a deep magenta. it smells like salt water on a breeze, tastes like aggressive salt water and kinda like a piña colada. it feels like rocks and pearls”. she laughed softly, “i see it as a red hexagon and it feels like spiky urchins”.

you rolled your eyes, not agreeing with her version.

throughout the rest of the night, you and billie would play songs and hear what each others synesthesia thought up of, the difference both interesting and comforting. the idea of sharing so much with her yet still being unique people.

as you looked at her passionately ramble about the feel of one of the songs, you smiled softly. you’re going to marry her one day.

she was your color.

PHOTOS FROM @KARAAEILISH

@janeybby @47lake @hkkuugu @st0nerIesb0 @n0vabug @everythingtruly @darkside-0f-the-sun @vyntagess

[ds-angel1]

cw: smut(18+), piss kink, shoe riding, rafe is mean, hair pulling, degradation, dub-con i suppose, he kinda kicks her in the kitty but not hard

a/n: this was a request, kinda feel like the writing sounds really weird but at least I wrote something...

Rafe was pissed.

The whole day you had been so damn annoying and so damn demanding. Not only did you throw a tantrum about the breakfast he made you, aka the bagel he stole from Barry´s house when he was there last night, but you also followed him around to every damn place he went, begging and tugging on him for attention. He was so done with you and your clingy attitude.

Your feet failed to keep the rhythm of stepping one in front of the other as Rafe gripped your hair and shoved you through the doorway. The lost balance caused you to end up tumbling down onto the marble floor, your skirt fluttering up as the cold material cooled your sun-baked skin.

“What the fuck?!” Rafe yelled, his strong voice grounding its way through all the halls and corners of the large, empty house. Sheepishly, you lifted your head to look up at him, his body so tense and rigid, you´d think he was standing on a landmine.

“You think you can just do that? Fuckin´ act like a desperate pathetic puppy all day, embarrassing me?” His eyes, ever so inclined to show their beautiful blue shade because of how wide they strung because of his anger, met yours, fluttering as your mind scrambled and sprinted to find a way to solve this.

“I could replace you any fucking day, you know that?” That made you pause, looking up at him as your lips parted and your expression contorted into a look that truly embodied pure despair.

Fuck, now he felt sorry.

“C´mere,” he ordered, his head nodding towards you. He wouldn´t actually ever leave you or replace you, he knew that, but you didn´t need to. It kept you in line, the fear of being left alone, different from the fear he insisted in you in other instances, the fear that you craved.

It was only a good 2 meters or so and you were already sitting in front of him, you opted to crawl across the grey floors knowing how much he loved it when you did stuff like that. No matter how much of a thorn you were in every side he had, you always just wanted to please him, to be ordered and owned by him.

His fingers gripped your hair again, yanking you into his legs, your head hitting his thigh as you let out a surprised screech. Then without even a single moment to recover, you suddenly felt his Oxford creep up your thighs, meeting your now aching cunt with a brutal force. A yelp left you as you head-butted his thigh.

“Ride it.”

Your heart started to race, your eyebrows wrinkling together. “…what?”

“You wanted attention, now you fucking got it. Ride my fucking shoe like the attention whore you are.”

“Rafe…” you whined, looking up at him pleadingly, your lips sticking out in a pout.

His foot pushed upwards even harder, moving back and forth as his eyes ordered you to do as he said, or else.

“No, Rafe, I have to pee,” you murmured shamefully, tugging at his khakis to stop. It was true, the full day of following Rafe around didn’t seem to involve going to the bathroom. You planned on going after Rafe was done putting you in your place but now that his shoe was between your legs and you were in this position, your bladder was ready to be emptied.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” He spat out, pulling your hair harsher than before and rubbing his hard, dark-brown Oxford even harder into your sex. “Do it.”

A moment went by where no sound at all left either of you and no noise was present throughout the whole villa.

“O- okay…” you whispered, each of your short breaths ending on a sharp note.

Slowly, Rafe put his foot down, the leather crashing down on the marble barking out a loud thwack. With a shaky movement to it, you sank down, your thong-clad core meeting his shoe. As you looked up into his mardy blue eyes with your fluttering ones, you rolled your hips, pressing your hips firmly down to catch that satisfying friction to ease yourself.

Rafe´s smirk grew wider and crueler as you continued grinding yourself down on his foot, hitched whines and pathetic whimpers coming from you as you did. Your lower abdomen burned with the sensation of needing release.

“It hurts,” you wailed, gripping his pants tightly to keep you from toppling over.

“What hurts, baby?” he cooed, the hand he had in your hair, forcing you to show him even more of your contorted face.

“I have to pee…”

You sounded so desperate, Rafe loved it, he loved the way your hips twitched when his shoe moved up against your soaked sex again, the leather pushing against your smarting clit and palpitating hole, he loved the way your eyes widened in panic when he hissed, “Fine. Then do it. Now. Here.”

You looked up at him, checking if he meant it; if he was really about to make you do something so degrading, so humiliating, so mortifying.

The slight nod of his head told you he was in fact serious about this. With one last roll of your hips and your eyes tightly clamped shut, you let go, letting the painful press of your full bladder be expelled all over your boyfriend's expensive shoe and floor.

“Fuckin´ pathetic.” You heard Rafe curse under his breath as you continued feverishly moving your cunt over his now-wet shoe, chasing an even better high than the one you just experienced a moment ago.  

[heartsriki]

BERRY FIRST LOVE⌇딸기

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon, jay, jake & sunoo | word count: 8.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool to adulthood au!, childhood friends to lovers, time skip, small-town romance, drinking, misunderstandings, fluff, mild angst, slow burn (?), lots of bickering, ni-ki is pushy at some points, reader is evasive asf, passing out from alcohol, wrote this with blonde riki in mind, slice of life & a little kiss :).

synopsis — returning to your small hometown for the summer, you find yourself tangled in old memories, old friends, and the chaos of your first love. with familiar faces and unexpected moments, you’re forced to confront feelings you thought you left behind. as the days pass, you realize that some things—and some people—are harder to walk away from than you thought.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Someone please compliment my title <3 also this took so long to write so if you love me reblog, ANYWAY ERMMM I KINDA COOKED IM NGL. I love this story so bad and I hope you guys like it too! As promised a fluffy jw fic is next bc if you all read my last fic.. WHEW IM SORRY. Anyways enjoy!

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the world in warm golds and soft pinks. The air smelled sweet—like earth and ripe strawberries, warmed by the afternoon heat. Your fingers were already stained red, a basket half-filled with berries swinging at your side as you wandered between the rows of green vines.

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Just you, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of a bird overhead. But then—

Thud.

Something, or rather, someone, tumbled into the bushes just a few feet away, rustling through the leaves in a flurry of limbs and laughter. You blinked, stepping forward cautiously.

A boy, maybe your age, sat up, rubbing his knee where he had clearly tripped. His dark hair stuck up in messy tufts, and his cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer amusement of whatever had just happened. His eyes found yours, wide and bright.

“You saw that?” he grinned, brushing dirt off his shorts.

You nodded slowly. “You fell.”

“I dived,” he corrected, puffing his chest out. “I was trying to catch the biggest strawberry I’ve ever seen. It was this big—” He stretched his hands out dramatically before glancing down at the ground. “And now it’s… gone.”

You followed his gaze and spotted a squished red mess near his foot. You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t think you caught it.”

The boy laughed, a sound that was light and free, like the breeze that carried the scent of strawberries through the air. “Guess not. My name is Riki… Nishimura Riki,” he announced, as if to cover up his failed strawberry mission. “You?”

“Y/N,” you answered, still watching him warily.

Riki wiped his sticky hands on his shorts and grinned. “Cool, Y/N. Wanna race to see who can pick the most strawberries?”

You glanced down at your half-filled basket, then at Riki’s empty hands. You smirked. “I think I already won.”

Riki gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “No way! I was just getting started! Let’s go—starting now!”

And before you could protest, he was already darting down the row, reaching for the nearest strawberry with wild determination.

Laughing, you took off after him, the sun dipping lower as their laughter filled the strawberry field.

It was the start of something sweet.

From that day on, Riki was everywhere you were.

He lived a few blocks down, close enough that he’d show up on your front porch without warning, dragging you outside for another adventure. Summers were spent racing bikes down the quiet streets, climbing trees at the edge of town, and daring each other to jump into the cold lake even when your parents warned them not to.

The strawberry field became your place. Every summer, you guys would return to it, competing to see who could find the ripest berries, sneaking handfuls into your mouths until your fingers and lips were stained red. It didn’t matter how many times you won—Riki never stopped challenging you.

“One day, I’m gonna beat you,” he swore, lying back in the grass after another loss.

“Keep dreaming, Nishimura.” You grinned, tossing a berry at him.

By middle school, things started to shift in small, unspoken ways.

Riki grew taller—a lot taller. He was all long limbs and endless energy, forever restless, always moving. You, on the other hand, started noticing things you hadn’t before—like how his hair always stuck up in the mornings when he’d rush to meet you for the bus, or how his laugh had gotten deeper, even though it was still just as contagious.

But some things never changed.

“Hold still,” you scolded, balancing on the tips of your toes as you tried to fix his tie before your first school dance.

Riki groaned. “I don’t know why I have to wear this thing. It’s choking me.”

“Because your mom made you, and my mom made me help.” You finished knotting it properly, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “There. Now you look slightly less like a mess.”

He huffed but grinned. “Still don’t see why you’re not my date.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Because that would be weird, dummy.”

And just like that, he was dragging you toward the gym, where the music was too loud, and neither of you really knew how to dance—but you both still had fun, laughing at your own awkwardness until the night was over.

As you both grew, Riki was one of the most well-known guys in town. He was the kind of person who could charm anyone—teachers, classmates, even the grumpy dude named Heeseung who ran the corner store. He was still the same Riki who tripped over his own feet and made ridiculous bets, but he was also different. More confident. More effortlessly cool.

The small town never changed. Not really. The roads got repaved, a few new families moved in, and the old diner got a fresh coat of paint, but the feeling stayed the same. Safe. Predictable.

But you?

You started changing little by little.

At first, it was subtle. The new people moving in brought different ideas, different ways of seeing the world. You overheard conversations at the diner about places far beyond your quiet town—cities with endless lights, beaches that stretched for miles, streets so busy you could disappear into the crowd.

And you got curious. Too curious.

You wanted to see more, do more, feel more.

One night, sprawled out on Riki’s bed, playing a game on your phone while he worked at his desk, the words left your mouth before you even realized you were thinking them.

“Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

Riki turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Where is this coming from?”

You blinked, pausing your game. Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I don’t know, don’t you feel stuck here? Like… there’s more for you than just this?”

Riki tilted his head, considering the question. Then, with a shrug, he turned back to his desk. “No, not really. I like it here.”

That was it. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a simple, final answer.

You nodded, flopping back down onto the bed. Maybe you were the weird one. Maybe wanting something more meant you didn’t appreciate what you already had.

After that, you pushed the thought down. You didn’t bring it up again.

Until high school.

By the time senior year rolled around, that buried thought had grown into something impossible to ignore.

You spent more time watching the people who had left—following old classmates’ social media accounts, seeing them post pictures from college dorms, busy city streets, concerts where the air felt electric even through a screen.

And then there was Riki.

Riki, who still loved this town, who had no plans of leaving. Riki, who fit here so well—who had the same easy friendships, the same carefree laughter, the same ability to make this place feel enough.

He hadn’t changed. But you had.

And that terrified you.

One evening, back in the strawberry field, you finally let the words slip again.

“Im leaving this town.”

Riki, lying back in the grass beside you, didn’t answer right away. He plucked a strawberry from the vine, rolling it between his fingers. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” you exhaled. “Everywhere. Just… somewhere new.”

This time, he didn’t push you to stay nor did he try to change your mind.

Instead, he looked at you for a long moment before popping the strawberry into his mouth. “Then go.”

Your stomach twisted. “Just like that?”

He looked at you, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Nothings keeping you here, Right?”

You wanted to believe it was that simple. That you could leave. But leaving means leaving him. After all this time you ignored one thing. How much Riki meant to you.

Deep down, you knew there was a deeper meaning to that.

The seasons were shifting and senior year was coming to an end.

After that conversation in the strawberry field, Riki became distant. Not completely gone, but different. The easy conversations, the playful teasing—it all started to fade. He still talked to you, but not like before. You figured he just needed time to process the idea of you leaving.

Maybe a lot of time.

One afternoon, as you walked through the school hallway, you found yourself scanning the crowd for him. He hadn’t been around much lately, and for some reason, the growing absence made your chest feel tight. It was stupid. He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you were met with a girl you barely knew, smiling shyly.

“Hey… weird question but are you and Riki dating by chance?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What? No. Why?”

The girl tilted her head. “That’s weird. I heard from Jake that he was planning to ask you out.”

Your breath caught. What?

She must’ve seen the confusion written all over your face because she gave a small nod, lips parting in realization. “He’s liked you for the longest time. Didn’t you know?”

You stared at her, mind suddenly blank.

Riki… liked you?

That didn’t make sense. Did it?

But then—flashes of memories. The clumsy little boy with messy brown hair in the strawberry field. The way he always found a reason to be around you, the way your heart sometimes skipped when he got too close, when he said something unexpectedly soft.

The feeling you could never quite name before.

You liked him.

The realization hit you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Without another word, you turned and ran.

You had to find him. You had to know if it was true. Because if it was—if it was, then maybe… maybe this town wouldn’t feel so suffocating after all. Maybe you wouldn’t have to leave.

Your feet carried you through the halls, past blurred faces and voices that didn’t matter. When you rounded a corner, your heart leapt at the sight of Riki’s classroom door, slightly open.

You slowed down, lifting a hand to knock—

Then you heard a voice.

“…Is Y/N really leaving?”

It was Sunghoon, a mutual friend speaking, his voice quieter than usual. He sat across from Riki, who was at his desk, staring blankly out the window.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat.

Sunghoon let out a breath. “And? How do you feel about it?”

You held your breath, pulse hammering in your ears. This was it. This was what you had been wondering ever since that day in the field. Ever since he started acting different.

Riki opened his mouth, hesitated—then turned back toward the window.

“…I couldn’t care less.”

The world stopped.

Your fingers curled against the doorframe, your chest tightening so painfully you thought it might break.

He couldn’t care less.

Not wanting to hear another word, you turned and ran.

This time, you didn’t stop till you got back home and hid in your room.

That night, you made your final decision.

You took the college offer abroad. You packed your bags.

And you left.

No graduation, no goodbyes.

Not even to Riki.

Because now, it was clear—there was nothing left for you in this town.

And you weren’t coming back.

4 YEARS LATER…

Here you were, walking down the crowded streets of the city you had called home for the past four years. Life had been moving fast—college, late-night study sessions, endless opportunities. And now, after graduating at the top of your class, you were finally taking a well-earned break before diving into the work scene.

The hum of city life buzzed around you—cars honking, people chattering, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. Everything felt familiar, routine. Until your phone suddenly vibrated in your bag.

Glancing down, you saw the caller ID flash on the screen. Sunghoon.

You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t just a casual call.

Besides Riki, Sunghoon had been one of your closest friends growing up. And when you left town without a word to the one person who mattered most, Sunghoon refused to let you disappear completely. He had spent years forcing you to stay in touch—going as far as making new email accounts every time you ignored him until you finally gave in.

Bringing the phone to your ear, you greeted him with a tired, “What is it now, Hoon?”

A dramatic whine came from the other end. “Why do you always say it like that? Can’t I just call my really good friend to check in?”

You hummed, unconvinced, waiting for him to get to the point.

“You just graduated, right?” He continued, his tone more casual now. “Come on, take a break from the city and come see all of us. You can visit your family too.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t know, Hoon… There’s no real reason for me to—”

“The strawberry festival is coming up,” he interrupted. “You know it only happens every ten years. Didn’t you promise me we’d go when it came back?”

You froze.

The strawberry festival.

You had completely forgotten about it. It was the one time your sleepy little hometown actually came to life. A massive carnival, packed with rides, music, food stalls—and, of course, strawberries everywhere. It was a rare event, held only once every decade, and back then, you and your friends had promised that no matter where life took you, you’d all come back for it.

Had it really been ten years already?

You let out an awkward laugh. “Damn… I forgot all about that. It’s really been that long?”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Yeah. So? Think about it. A break from the city, some fresh air, maybe a little nostalgia… You know you want to.”

You swallowed hard.

A break from the city. A trip home.

Before you could say anything else, Sunghoon spoke again. “Just think about it, okay?” And with that, he hung up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You exhaled, slipping your phone back into your bag.

You should say no. You should keep moving forward, keep your past where it belonged.

You stood there, phone still in your hand, Sunghoon’s words replaying in your head.

The strawberry festival.

When did time pass so quickly?

You exhaled, tilting your head up toward the city skyline. It had been so long since you left that tiny town behind. Since you left him behind.

Your life here was everything you had dreamed of—endless possibilities, a fast-paced world that never stopped moving. You had finally become someone outside of that small town.

So why did your heart ache at the thought of going back?

Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe… it was the one thing you never had the courage to face.

Riki.

Shaking your head, you continued walking. It was just a trip. Just a festival. A quick visit, and then you’d be gone again.

Just like last time.

The bus rumbled beneath you as you watched the scenery shift from towering skyscrapers to endless stretches of green. The city had faded miles ago, replaced by winding roads and wide, open fields. Everything looked just as you remembered—maybe a little smaller—but familiar all the same.

You had never set foot in this town since the day you left. Now, as the bus pulled into the tiny station near Main Street, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you.

A lot had really changed. The same diner still stood at the corner but now there were multiple. The old bookstore still had its hand-painted sign, but now it was the center of a plaza. A few new shops had popped up, but for the most part, the town was frozen in time—stuck in the same rhythm it had been in since you were a kid.

You stepped off the bus, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over everything, making the town look almost painting, like something out of an old memory.

Taking a deep breath, you started toward home.

Your parents had been thrilled when you told them you were coming back, immediately insisting on picking you up from the station. You had refused, not quite ready for the flood of questions you knew would come the second you got into the car. You needed time—to process, to breathe, to prepare yourself for what this trip might bring.

Walking through your old neighborhood, everything felt both foreign and familiar. The cracked sidewalk where you once tripped and scraped your knee. The oak tree near the park where you and your friends used to sit for hours. The houses all looked the same, yet somehow smaller, less grand than they had seemed when you were young.

And then, finally—home.

The house was exactly how you left it. The white shutters, the wraparound porch, the wind chimes still hanging near the front door. Your mom must have heard your footsteps because, before you could even knock, the door swung open.

“There you are!” she gasped, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Look at you! You look so grown up—well, of course you do, it’s been years—but still! You’re home.”

You laughed softly, hugging her back. “Yeah, I’m home.”

Your dad appeared behind her, smiling warmly. “Took you long enough.”

You spent the next hour catching up, answering the usual questions about school, work, and city life while your mom fussed over you like you’d been gone for decades. It was comforting, but as the sun began to set, you felt it—the weight of the town settling on you, the memories pressing in from all sides.

And with that weight came the one question you had been dreading.

Had he changed?

Did Riki still live here?

Would you run into him?

You weren’t sure if you were ready to find out. But something told you that in a town this small, it was only a matter of time.

And it was.

The first night back home, you couldn’t sleep.

Your mind raced with thoughts of everything this town had been and everything it could be. Memories clashed with possibilities, nostalgia with uncertainty. No matter how much you tossed and turned, the restless energy wouldn’t fade.

You needed air.

With a sigh, you threw off the blankets, slipped into a jacket, and grabbed your shoes. The house was eerily silent as you stepped outside, the night air crisp against your skin. You winced at the sudden chill but ignored it, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you let your feet carry you aimlessly down the quiet streets.

The last time you were here, you’d sworn never to return. The heartbreak had been unbearable, a wound so deep you thought distance would heal it. But here you were.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice where you’d wandered—until you did.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The strawberry field.

The place where it all began. The place where summers used to stretch endlessly under the golden sun, where laughter filled the air, where small hands plucked berries until fingertips were stained red.

It didn’t change. The neatly organized rows were still the same, the vivid wooden fence now more sturdy than before. It brought you comfort.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. How strange it was to return to something you thought you would never see again. You shook your head, forcing the emotions down. You had a reason for being back, and nostalgia wasn’t going to change anything.

Sunghoon. You should probably let him know you made it home safely.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped his name. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the dial tone to ring.

Then—

Rustle.

You froze.

The sound came from somewhere behind you, a sound you remembered hearing many times just beyond the tall grass at the edge of the field. Your grip on your phone tightened as you turned slowly, heart pounding.

And then, you saw him.

A tall figure stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows of the night. The dim glow of a distant streetlight cast a soft halo around him, highlighting sharp features, broad shoulders, and a hoodie tied around his waist. His posture was tense—mirroring yours.

Your breath hitched as your eyes trailed upward.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But then, your gaze landed on a tiny, unmistakable detail.

The mole on his chin.

Your stomach dropped.

Riki.

He was blonde now. Taller—so much taller. He had grown into someone almost unrecognizable, yet there was no denying it. It was him.

And he was staring at you just as intently.

Seconds stretched into eternity as you both stood frozen in place, caught between the past and present. You could see it in his eyes—he recognized you immediately. Even after all these years.

Then, he broke the silence.

“Y/N…?”

Your heart clenched.

Your vision blurred.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate.

You turned on your heel and ran.

When you got home you were breathless, without a thought you curled up in your bed and rocked yourself to sleep wanting to forget about who you saw all together.

But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Y/N…? Y/N, wake up.”

A voice cut through the haze of sleep, pulling you from your dreams. You stirred, shifting slightly, only to feel warm breath against your face.

Your eyes fluttered open—only to be met with another face inches from yours.

You screamed. On instinct, your fist shot out, connecting with their nose.

“Ow—what the hell?!” The intruder stumbled back, clutching his face in pain.

Heart racing, you scrambled upright, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Tall, smooth dark hair, ridiculously bushy eyebrows—wait.

“Sunghoon?!”

“Jesus, yes, Sunghoon! Who else would it be?!” he hissed, rubbing his nose.

Your gaze flickered to the open window. Your stomach dropped.

“How old are we, Hoon? Why are you still climbing through my window like we’re in some bad teen movie?”

Sunghoon winced, realizing his mistake. “Your mom said you weren’t talking to anyone.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “And a normal person would take that as a reason to NOT break into my room.”

He exhaled, letting silence fill the room before finally speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

Your brow furrowed. “How did you even know I was here?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you think?”

You swallowed, understanding his unspoken words. Of course.

Sunghoon inched closer, studying your face. “Seriously, Y/N. What happened? You and Riki used to be inseparable.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of his name. You looked away, jaw tightening. “Don’t tell me you seriously don’t know? I saw you two—I heard him when he—”

The words lodged in your throat. You stood up abruptly, fists clenched at your sides.

Sunghoon stood with you. “When he what?”

Silence.

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t repeat the words that shattered everything four years ago.

Sunghoon, watching your expression, racked his brain for memories—trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. And then…

Oh.

It hit him.

Four Years Ago

Sunghoon sat across from Riki, watching him with concern. His best friend sat slumped over the table, face buried in his arms.

”…Is Y/N really leaving?” Sunghoon finally asked.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat, distant. His gaze was fixed out the window.

Sunghoon exhaled, nodding in understanding. “And? How do you feel about it?”

Riki hesitated. His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something—something real—but then, he turned back toward the window.

”…I couldn’t care less.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t care. You’ve liked her since middle school, haven’t you?”

That got Riki’s attention. He finally turned his head, locking eyes with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon froze.

Riki’s eyes were filled with unshed tears that were threatening to fall.

Without another word, Sunghoon reached out, giving Riki a firm pat on the back before standing. As he walked away, he heard it—silent, shaky sobs.

Sunghoon blinked, snapping back to the present. You were still staring at him, hurt and confusion in your glare.

He exhaled. “Y/N… I think you misunderstood something.”

Your expression darkened. “What is there to misunderstand?”

Oh, there was a lot. Sunghoon pieced it together now—how one sentence, one moment, had ruined everything.

He grinned suddenly, backing toward the door. “Yeah, you two definitely need to talk.”

You scowled. “What—?”

“Everyone’s meeting up to shop for the festival tomorrow. Get dressed and be out in twenty.”

“No way.”

Sunghoon smirked. “You don’t have a choice.”

And with that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

You groaned, throwing yourself back onto your bed before reluctantly sitting up. With a sigh, you dragged yourself toward your wardrobe.

The town festival was tomorrow, and somehow, you had been roped into shopping for decorations and outfits with everyone. Against your will.

Sunghoon had given you exactly twenty minutes to get ready, and true to his word, he was banging on your door the moment time was up.

Now, here you were, standing in the middle of a busy shopping district, regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

It wasn’t all bad, though. You and Sunghoon had met up with Jay, Jake, and Sunoo—old friends, familiar faces. It felt just like the old days.

“Try not to look like you want to die, Y/N,” Jay teased, nudging you with his elbow. “It’s not a good look.”

“Oh, my bad.” You deadpanned. “I’ll smile harder just for you.”

Sunoo looped his arm through yours, grinning. “Come on, it won’t be that bad! We just need to grab some lights, banners, and—”

The conversation fell silent when approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Sunghoon must have told the others about You and Riki.

His blonde hair caught the sunlight, seriously since when did he decide to go blonde? His ear piercings glinting with every step. His usual confident smirk was firmly in place as he greeted everyone else—until his gaze landed on you. The moment it did, his expression shifted, and instead of a greeting, he simply looked away.

You scoffed. What the hell? He was ignoring you? But you were stubborn. If he wasn’t going to say anything, neither were you.

Fine. Two could play that game.

Shopping took forever. Between Jake trying on every jacket he saw, Sunoo debating color schemes, and Sunghoon practically dragging Jay away from every fashion store, you were exhausted by the time evening rolled around.

Naturally, the group decided to end the day at a bar.

The dimly lit space was buzzing with energy, music pulsing through the speakers. Drinks were ordered, laughter flowed easily, and—shockingly—you and Riki had managed to stay out of each other’s way. For now.

Sometimes you would catch his gaze on you before he quickly looked away. It confused you, didn’t he choose to keep it distant?

Jake slid a drink your way, grinning. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re gonna be lame tonight.”

You raised a brow. “I don’t need alcohol to have fun, Jake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off. “But it helps.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or maybe you just didn’t feel like arguing, but you downed the drink without another word.

Then another.

And another.

It wasn’t until your head started feeling a little too light, and your laughter came a little too easy, that you realized you might have overdone it.

“You’re drunk,” Riki muttered beside you, eyeing you critically.

You blinked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Nooo, you’re drunk.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Okay, goody-two shoes.” You giggled, wobbling slightly in your seat.

Riki sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, let’s go.”

“What?”

“You’re done for the night. I’m taking you home.”

You pouted but couldn’t resist when he stood, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the exit. The others barely acknowledged your departure, too caught up in their own conversations.

By the time you reached your place, the effects of the alcohol had fully settled in. Your limbs felt heavy, your thoughts hazy. Riki helped you to your room, muttering about how you were such a hassle.

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbled, laying you down on your bed.

You hummed, blinking up at him. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re drunk.”

There was a pause.

Then, in a small, quiet voice, you whispered, “What happened to us Riki.”

Riki froze. “…What?”

You turned your head, staring at the ceiling. “A long time ago. I heard you.”

Silence.

“I heard you say you didn’t care I was leaving, Did I really mean so little to you?”

Riki looked at you silently listening to every word you said. Is that why you left without a word?

“Y/N…“

Your eyes fluttered shut, sleep pulling at you, but before you completely drifted off, you swore you felt his fingers brush lightly against yours.

And then, everything faded to black.

The town was alive with color.

Red and white banners swayed in the breeze, the scent of fresh strawberries and warm pastries filling the air. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from homemade jams to strawberry-shaped trinkets. Children ran past with sticky fingers, laughing as they chased one another through the crowd. The festival was exactly as you remembered it—sweet, lively, and nostalgic.

And yet, something felt off.

Maybe it was the fact that you could still feel the ghost of Riki’s touch from the night before. Or maybe it was the words you had let slip in your drunken haze.

“A long time ago. I heard you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure he had understood what you were talking about. But now, as you stood among the festival-goers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be difficult.

That feeling only intensified when you spotted Riki in the crowd while trying to find everyone else.

He wasn’t with the others. He wasn’t with anyone. He was standing near the game stalls, scanning the festival like he was looking for something—someone.

Then, his eyes found yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you continued in its usual festival chaos, but all you could focus on was him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something determined.

Then, without a word, he started walking toward you.

You panicked.

Spinning on your heel, you darted into the crowd, weaving between people and past booths in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever conversation was coming. It was childish, sure, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not after last night.

You searched through the crowd, scanning the festival until your eyes landed on Sunghoon and the others standing in line for the go-karts. Without hesitation, you hurried over to them, eager for an escape from Riki and whatever awkward tension had settled between you since the bar incident.

Just as you reached the group, you heard footsteps behind you. A familiar presence. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Riki—his energy was unmistakable.

You ignored him.

Riki, however, wasn’t having it. He caught up effortlessly, standing close enough that you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“We need to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

You refused to acknowledge him.

The group, oblivious to the silent war happening beside them, continued chatting and joking around as you all waited for your turn. The line moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to bicker over who would win.

“I know I’m going to crush you all,” Jay bragged.

“You’re so delusional,” Sunghoon shot back. “You drive like a maniac.”

“That’s a crazy thing to say.”

“But am I wrong?”

You were entertained by the bickering until you were paired up with Jake on a two seater.

“Just so you know, I’m only targeting Jay,” Jake declared, cracking his knuckles. He turned to you with a playful grin. “Buckle up well, ‘cause we’re going straight after him.”

You laughed, following his order as you clicked your seatbelt into place. “Got it, captain.”

What you didn’t see, however, was Riki’s sharp glare fixed on the two of you. His jaw clenched as he watched the way you leaned into Jake’s side, completely ignoring him.

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms. “So she avoids me but giggles with Jake? Alright then.”

The game was on.

As soon as the music started, signaling the beginning of the race, everyone slammed on the gas.

Chaos erupted on the track.

Jake wasted no time, immediately veering toward Jay’s kart and ramming into him as promised.

“JAKE, YOU ASSHOLE!” Jay shouted as his kart spun slightly off course.

You burst into laughter—only for it to be cut short when your own kart jolted forward from a hard hit from behind.

“What the—” You twisted in your seat, and your breath hitched when you saw Riki behind the wheel of his own kart, glaring directly at you with a smirk.

Jake, unaware of the growing tension, was too focused on getting back at Sunoo, who had swerved past him effortlessly. “Hold on, Y/N, I’m gonna—”

BAM.

Another hit.

Again, it was Riki.

This time, he cut in front of you and Jake, blocking your path.

“Dude, what’s your problem?!” Jake shouted, trying to steer around him.

Riki only tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know. What’s your problem?!”

You furrowed your brows, confused by his behavior. His tone was sharp, but there was something else beneath it—something closer to frustration.

Not wanting to deal with whatever childish thing he was trying to pull, you gripped the steering wheel and swerved aggressively to break free from Riki’s blockade. Jake whooped as you sped off, but the feeling of Riki’s gaze lingering on you made you tense.

He wasn’t letting this go.

The race ended with Jay dramatically throwing his hands up, blaming everyone but himself for his loss. As the go-karts slowed to a stop, you unbuckled and climbed out, but your mind wasn’t on the game anymore.

Riki had been targeting you the entire time.

And you needed to know why.

You scanned the area, quickly spotting him a few feet away near his kart. Without thinking, you stormed over, your determination outweighing the hesitation you’d felt all day.

Riki, who had been watching you approach, felt a fleeting moment of satisfaction—until he saw the glare on your face. His stomach dropped.

Uh oh.

“What the hell was that, Riki?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

He smirked, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned against his kart, playing it cool. “I was just playing the game.”

“Really? Because it felt like you were playing with me.”

Riki tilted his head, his amusement faltering. “Maybe because you keep playing with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “What are you talking about?”

His expression darkened slightly, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his voice. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, Y/N. Pretending I don’t exist, laughing with Jake like nothing happened. What, I don’t even get a chance to talk to you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected him to be this blunt.

You swallowed hard. “So your solution was to ram into me with a go-kart?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to acknowledge me,” he shot back.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re so childish.”

“And you’re so stubborn.”

You had nothing to say to that. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong.

A silence stretched between you, the tension thick, unspoken words hanging between glares and quickened heartbeats.

Then, finally, you exhaled, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk away. “I don’t have time for this, Riki.”

Riki watched you go, an unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t frustration. It was something more vulnerable, something closer to disappointment.

A pat on his back snapped him out of his daze.

He turned to see Sunghoon standing beside him, arms crossed.

Sunghoon sighed, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”

Riki groaned, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. He already knew that.

But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

After the go-karts, you needed space.

The festival had plenty of distractions, and you were determined to find one that didn’t involve Riki glaring at you like you personally ruined his life. So, while the others wandered toward the dunk tank, you made a detour to a small strawberry stand, hoping the sweet treats would help clear your mind.

The old woman behind the counter greeted you warmly. “Looking for something special, dear?”

You glanced over the options—strawberry parfaits, chocolate-dipped strawberries, even little jars of homemade strawberry jam.

Before you could decide, someone else stepped beside you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Riki.

You stiffened as he casually leaned against the wooden stand, way too close for someone you were actively trying to avoid.

“What are you getting?” he asked, voice light but unreadable.

You ignored him. Again.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh, so we’re still doing this? Cool, cool. Just checking.”

The old woman glanced between the two of you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Couple’s fight?”

Your entire body tensed. “We’re not a couple.”

Riki, annoyingly enough, just smirked. “Yeah. She’s just mad at me for existing.”

You finally turned to glare at him. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now.”

“Right now?” he echoed, tilting his head. “So there will be a time?”

You clenched your jaw, turning back to the stand. “I’ll take a chocolate-dipped strawberry,” you told the woman, ignoring Riki completely.

“Make it two,” Riki added immediately, pulling out his wallet before you could even react.

You shot him a glare. “I can pay for my own.”

“I know,” he said, handing over the money anyway. “But you won’t. Because I already did.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. You wanted to fight him on this. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face and tell him to back off.

But at the same time…

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his fingers subtly brushed yours when he handed you the strawberry. His expression wasn’t just playful—it was calculated, like he was testing you, waiting for you to react.

And that was the problem.

Because every time he pushed you like this, every time he pulled you into his ridiculous little games, you did react. You always did.

And he knew it.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m going back to the others.”

As the festival continued, you did everything in your power to avoid Riki.

You stuck by Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, and Jay laughing at their antics, pretending everything was normal. But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. Waiting.

It was driving you insane.

So when Sunoo suggested the Ferris wheel, you jumped at the chance, thinking maybe—maybe—you could get some distance.

Big mistake.

Because, of course, when it came time to pair up, Sunoo and Jake shoved you directly into a Ferris wheel cart with Riki.

“Wait, hold on—” You tried to back out, but Sunoo, with his deceptively strong grip, pushed you forward.

“Have fun!” he chirped, slamming the door shut before you could escape.

The ride operator locked it in place. You were trapped.

With Riki.

The cart swayed slightly as it ascended, the town growing smaller beneath you. A cool breeze drifted through, but it did nothing to calm the heat rising in your chest.

You sat stiffly, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge the boy beside you.

Riki, for once, was silent too.

The tension was thick—almost suffocating.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“You’re really that scared of talking to me?”

You scoffed, keeping your gaze on the view. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then look at me.”

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the seat. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he said, voice lower now. “I think you already know what I’m going to say.”

You clenched your jaw. “Riki—”

“I liked you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I still like you,” he admitted, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it. “And I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t.”

You finally turned, your heart pounding. “Why are you saying this now?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Because you heard me back then. You heard me and you ran away without the full story. What I said at that time, That was just me being stupid.”

He paused regaining his thoughts before speaking again, “Of course I cared. Everyday since you told me you were leaving I thought about ways to get you to stay but you’re just so stubborn.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “So Sunghoon told you I was there, huh?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Am I stupid to think you felt the same way?”

You had nothing to say to that. Yet.

The cart swayed slightly as it reached the very top of the Ferris wheel. The festival lights below twinkled, casting a warm glow around you both.

Riki exhaled, voice almost hesitant now. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll drop it. I’ll leave you alone.”

You opened your mouth—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And deep down, you knew it.

The festival was winding down, but the air was still buzzing with excitement. The last of the fireworks were being set up, their colorful bursts of light reflecting off the river nearby. Families and friends gathered near the open field, setting down blankets and sitting on benches to watch the grand finale.

You tried to focus on the people around you—on Sunghoon, who was finishing off his fourth funnel cake, on Sunoo, who was still determined to win a giant stuffed bear at the dart game. But no matter what, your attention kept drifting elsewhere.

To him.

Riki stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, staring off into the distance. The glow of the festival lanterns flickered against his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows.

You had spent the entire night avoiding him, but after everything that happened—after the Ferris wheel, after what he said—you knew you couldn’t keep running forever.

So, before you could talk yourself out of it, you took a deep breath and walked over.

“Riki.”

He turned, eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “You’re talking to me now?”

You ignored the teasing in his tone. “Can we walk?”

He blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you drifted toward the quieter part of the festival, where the sounds of laughter and music softened into a gentle hum. You walked in silence for a while, the only sound between you being the crunch of gravel underfoot.

Then, finally—

“You’re right, I did hear you,” you admitted, staring at the ground. “Back then. When you said you didn’t care if I left or not.”

Riki exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know.”

You frowned. “Did you say something after that?”

“I did but you didn’t stick around to hear it.” He glanced at you. “Sunghoon scolded me for lying.”

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. “What you said that day wasn’t the whole reason why I left.”

Riki stopped walking, turning fully toward you. “Then what was it?”

You hesitated, looking up at him. The glow of the fireworks reflected in his dark eyes, filling the space between you with something unspoken—something that had always been there, even if neither of you had wanted to face it.

“I was scared,” you finally admitted. “I was scared of losing you too but not only as a friend, I liked you as well.”

Riki studied you for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft laugh—one that wasn’t mocking, but almost relieved.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “Is there hope that you still like me?”

You opened your mouth to answer but…. You couldn’t.

A loud boom echoed across the sky as the first firework shot up, exploding into a burst of red and gold. The crowd in the distance cheered, the sound carrying through the night air.

Riki looked up, his expression thoughtful. “I liked you back then,” he murmured. “And I still like you, I meant it when I said it on the ferris wheel and I still mean it now.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Slowly, he turned back to you, his usual cocky grin replaced with something softer, something real.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admitted. “But I do know that I’m done pretending like I never loved you.”

You stared at him, the fireworks painting his face in shifting colors. And in that moment, with the warmth of the festival still lingering in the air, you realized something.

Maybe you were done pretending, too.

The festival was over.

The lights had dimmed, the stalls were packed away, and the echoes of laughter had long faded into the quiet hum of the small town. The air smelled of burnt sugar and fireworks, remnants of a night that felt like both an ending and a beginning.

And yet, here you were—standing in your childhood bedroom, staring at your suitcase.

Your flight was tomorrow morning.

You were supposed to leave.

That had always been the plan, hadn’t it?

You had spent so much time dreaming of something bigger, something beyond this town. You told yourself you needed to leave, that staying here would mean getting stuck in the past.

But then… he happened.

The memories of the past few days replayed in your head—the strawberry fields, the carnival, the fireworks, the way his voice softened when he admitted, “I still like you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before pulling out your phone. One unread message stared back at you.

Riki: Meet me at the strawberry field before you go. One last time.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You could say no. You could leave things as they were, pack up, and walk away without looking back.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

You weren’t leaving.

Not this time.

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the fields, the dew still fresh on the leaves. It was quiet here—peaceful in a way that made your heart ache.

And waiting for you, just like always, was Riki.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, hands shoved into his pockets. “You actually came.”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “Of course, I did.”

He tilted his head. “Did you decide?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let your gaze drift over the rows of strawberries, remembering how it all started—the first time you met as kids, the summers spent running through these fields, the memories built in a place that had somehow always brought you back to him.

Then, finally, you looked at him.

“I’m staying.”

Riki blinked. “Wait—”

“I don’t know for how long,” you admitted. “I don’t know what comes next. But I do know that leaving doesn’t feel right anymore. Not if you’re here.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. Not cocky, not teasing—just genuine.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

His smirk returned as he glanced down at the strawberry bushes beside you. “So… what now?”

You raised an eyebrow, then crouched down and plucked a ripe strawberry off the vine, twirling it between your fingers before tossing him a look.

“You still think you can pick more strawberries than me?”

Riki let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You cannot be serious right now.”

You only smirked. “Scared you’ll lose?”

His competitive streak kicked in immediately. “You wish.” He bent down, grabbing his own handful of strawberries before shooting you a challenging grin. “Alright, let’s do this.”

For the next few minutes, it was like nothing had changed. You were just two kids again, running through the fields, arguing over who could pick the most, sneaking strawberries when you thought the other wasn’t looking.

And then—

Riki suddenly reached out, grabbing your wrist mid-motion, stopping you in your tracks.

Your heart jumped. “What—”

“You’re really staying?” His voice was quieter now, serious.

You swallowed, your fingers still curled around a strawberry. “Yeah.”

A moment of silence.

Then—Riki took a step closer.

Closer.

Until he was right there in front of you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his eyes locked onto yours like he was searching for any hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

And maybe that was all the confirmation he needed, because the next thing you knew—

He kissed you.

Soft, tentative at first, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your free hand reaching up to tangle in his hoodie as the warmth of his lips melted away any lingering doubts.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Riki’s lips curled into a smirk.

“So… does this mean I win?”

You scoffed, shoving a strawberry into his mouth before walking past him.

“Shut up and pick more strawberries, Nishimura.”

His laughter echoed through the field, and as you glanced back at him—his eyes shining, his smile wide—you realized something.

This was home.

And you weren’t going anywhere.

[ataliagold]

you told me once that i'm selfish (and i kissed you hard, in the dark)

For @astrangersummer week 4 prompt 'outside'. Title from Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1430

Tags: Established Steddie, minor angst, fluff, hand-holding, Steve just wants to go hiking but Eddie's not keen on the idea, until he is, despite a minor argument these boys are so soft for each other, slightly selfish Eddie but he apologizes, Eddie gets a cool stick

Summary: Steve is used to spending time doing what Eddie wants to do. On a hot summer afternoon, the tables are turned when Steve asks Eddie to go hiking with him and Eddie is...not so thrilled about it.

___

“A hike?”

“Yup.”

“You want to go…hiking?”

“Uh huh.”

“You want me to go hiking with you?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“…I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we could do…something else. Go to the arcade! Catch a movie, get drunk by your pool…I can come up with many alternatives to hiking, big boy.”

“I want to go, it’s one I used to do often years ago. It’ll be fun, just try it. It’s summer, we should get outdoors, enjoy the sun.”

“I’m not really an outdoors kinda guy, Steve. I thought you knew that by now.”

Steve’s shoulders had slumped a little at that. He’d watched as Eddie screwed up his nose at Steve’s suggestion, as he shook his head vehemently, as he rolled his eyes a little at Steve’s insistence that it would be a nice way to spend their Sunday.

Eddie didn’t want to go. That was ok; Steve wouldn’t make him. It had been stupid to even ask him in the first place, he supposed – Eddie was right, it really wasn’t his sort of thing.

Except…Steve had spent long evenings watching Eddie and the kids playing their campaigns, had listened as best he could as Eddie rattled off ideas and suggestions to him for the next D&D session, had sat through the frankly terrible horror movies that Eddie was rapt with, always let him play his music in the car, shrugged it off good-naturedly when Eddie complained about his taste in music…

Steve been hoping maybe Eddie would try something that he enjoyed, just for a day.

He knew Eddie hated sport and practically any form of intentional exercise; hell, his boyfriend reminded him of that frequently, grumbling when Steve and Wayne were glued to a game on TV or when Steve was busy shooting hoops with Lucas. Usually, Steve didn’t care – he knew they had different interests, loved Eddie enough that it didn’t matter.

But sometimes, Eddie’s jibes about him being a jock or a philistine or uncultured just…stung a little, especially considering Steve never bit back with his own insults, had left those days long behind him.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbled eventually. “I’ll just…I’ll ask Lucas or something.”

Eddie shook his head. “He’s at Mike’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Well…never mind, then.”

Eddie sat up, grabbing for Steve’s hand. Steve let him take it, but with little enthusiasm.

“We can do something else, though,” Eddie said brightly. “Wanna rent a couple of movies, get high? I’ve still got some of Argyle’s stuff left, we could…Steve?”

Steve’s hand had gone weak in Eddie’s, his gaze drifting downwards. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie shuffled closer, tilted his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “Steeeeevie,” he hummed.

“What?” Steve said, snapping a little.

Eddie recoiled slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Steve snatched his hand back, pushing off Eddie’s couch to stand up. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m gonna go for this hike, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie frowned, hopping up to block Steve’s path. “On your own?” he questioned.

“Well, you clearly don’t want to go, so…”

Eddie’s face softened. “Steve -”

“No, it’s fine. You hate the outdoors, you hate exercise, you hate…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie reached out, traced a hand across Steve’s cheek. “What, sweetheart?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “You hate everything I like,” he mumbled, not meeting Eddie’s eye.

Eddie’s eyes widened, realization crossing his face. “Stevie…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to go so badly. Let me just…I’ll get changed, and we’ll go, ok?”

“No, you don’t want to.”

“I do.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t.”

Eddie nodded slightly, chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted eventually. “But…you do things you don’t want to do for me all the time, and I know I’m not…as good at doing that as you are. So, the afternoon is yours. You want to hike? We’ll hike. I can’t promise I won’t pass out halfway, but I’ll be there.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You’re sure? And you won’t complain?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Steve rolled his eyes, waving a hand in frustration.

“Ok!” Eddie back-peddled. “Ok, I won’t. Just…I have one request.”

“What?”

“I want to carry a cool stick.”

*****

Eddie got his stick.

Steve led them on the wooded path that branched off from Lover’s Lake, that looped its way slowly up a hill to a lookout spot over the forest. Eddie traipsed along behind him, swatting at invisible orcs with his stick, occasionally skipping off to one side to pick up and present Steve with various stones and small rocks he found along the way, the ones he deemed pretty enough to gift to him.

Halfway up, despite sweating and breathing a little harder than he should be, (smoker’s lungs, he’d given Steve as an excuse) Eddie seemed to putting in a lot of effort for Steve.

“This is…kinda cool,” he admitted.

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

Eddie nodded, whacked at a bush with his stick and grinned. “Yeah. At least it’s shady here too, it’s not so fucking hot.”

Steve smiled. “Told ya. Wait till we get to the top, too. I think you’ll like the view.”

“About that…how much steeper does it get?”

A short time later, and only one little moan from Eddie about the hill, and they broke through the trees and onto a rocky outcrop with a little bench seat. The trees sprawled out below them, shades of brown and burnt orange, Hawkins nestled off to one side.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed, bent over next to Steve with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

Steve, not puffed in the least, nodded in agreement. “It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s like…Lothlorien.”

“…sure,” Steve offered, having no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

Eddie slumped down on the bench seat, fingers tracing over the initials carved everywhere into the old wood.

“You on here, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve nodded, dropping to his knees and searching the edge of the seat for a moment. There, etched permanently into the wood, were the weathered initials S.H.

“Here,” he said.

Eddie smiled, touched his fingers to the marks. Quietly, he scratched his own into the wood with a sharp stick, right next to Steve’s initials.

“Looks good,” Steve observed.

Eddie looked up at him, took his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…not taking enough interest in the things you like.”

Steve sighed, sat down beside him. “You don’t have to, Eds. I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do, it’s -”

“Don’t say it’s ok,” Eddie interrupted, holding his hand tighter. “I mean, maybe I don’t like sport and stuff. But you don’t like D&D, and I know you hate horror movies, but you don’t complain about it, and you always come along even if you don’t enjoy something.”

“I…I like spending time with you,” Steve said quietly.

“I know, and I love you for it.” Eddie’s free hand gripped the edge of the seat. “And…and I like spending time with you too, and I want to be able to do some things that you enjoy too, it’s only fair.”

“Well…did you enjoy this?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, actually. Nearly had a heart attack near the top there, but aside from that…” he grinned as he pulled a small laugh from Steve. “I’d like to go again. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there.”

“I’d like that, Eds.”

“Good.” Eddie dug around in his pocket for a moment, producing a smooth black stone and plopping it into Steve’s hand. “For you,” he said, smiling when Steve turned it over in his fingers.

“It’s cool, Eds. Thanks.”

Eddie’s smile was wider than the sun.

He leant in, kissed Steve long and slow under the fading July sun.

By the time they reached the car again, Steve’s pockets were laden with little stones that had caught Eddie’s eye along the path. Despite them weighing down his shorts, he couldn’t bear to toss any of them away – he’d find somewhere to put them in their room.

As Steve started the beamer, he was surprised to see Eddie eject the Metallica tape in the player and replace it with Steve’s well-loved Tears for Fears one.

He threw a surprised look at Eddie, who shrugged in return.

“It’s well overdue for your turn, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

As the familiar notes of Head Over Heels spilled over them, Steve reached for Eddie’s hand.

He didn’t let go the whole way home.

___

[k-nayee]

A Fusion of Feelings STEVEN UNIVERSE

wc: 5.4k a/n: ngl I forgot what inspired me but just know I was on the bed eating Trolli crawlers !! Post-Steven Universe: The Movie (2019) !!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The cool salt-laced air of Beach City clung to the evening as Steven got out the car, the golden glow of the setting sun stretching shadows across the familiar sands.

At twenty, he carried himself differently now, with a quiet confidence that spoke of growth.

The tailored pink jacket he wore paired with jeans that fit him snugly was a silent testament to how he'd changed over the four years he'd been away.

His aura was more grounded, less childish. Honestly it kinda unsettled Connie to see him this way—more a stranger and less the boy she once knew.

But beyond the new posture and the maturity in his eyes, the essence of Steven Universe—kind, earnest, ever-hopeful—remained.

Connie heart thudded as she watched him scan the area. When his eyes landed on her it was like a moment suspended in time.

The boyish face she remembered was now sculpted with sharper edges, framed by unruly curls that had grown out, and his posture spoke of someone who had wrestled with his own demons and won.

A smile broke across his face as she rushed forward, her dark hair a wild halo catching the breeze before pulling him into a hug.

It was warm, familiar...and yet there was a split second of hesitation. Something was different.

His hands were firm but no longer lingering, his eyes searched hers with affection but no not with the same intenseful adoration.

It stung more than she cared to admit.

They fell into old rhythms easily from jokes about childhood adventures to updates on the latest antics of the Crystal Gems.

Yet as they spoke, Connie caught herself watching for cracks in his expression, hoping to find a hint of longing for the past

 Instead, she found something gentler—a quiet satisfaction that wasn't solely about her.

Steven began to tell stories from his travels. And amid these conversations, an invisible thread pulled at Connie's focus, a name woven seamlessly into Steven's stories—you.

He had met you during as visit to a local university in the South.

But that wasn't what bothered the human member of Crystal Gems. It was the way he spoke with a kind of unconscious reverence of you.

Pictures of shared laughter over late-night conversations were painted, of your fascination with reading or the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

"She's just...her," Steven's voice would soften, his eyes drifting as he spoke. "You'd love talking to her about books Connie! You both have that same spark when you get excited."

Connie's chest tightened at each mention and she struggled to maintain her indifference.

"She was so passionate about that one book. You know the one with the wizard school?" Steven says before his eyes light up with another thought. "Oh and [favorite beverage]! You should have seen her face when she talks about it—it's like she's describing the most magical thing in the world."

Connie forced a light laugh but the edges were brittle. "Sounds she's a good friend." The words felt sour on her tongue, each one an effort to keep in check.

"She is. I mean, I know everything a good friend should," Steven's eyes go unfocused as if tracing the memory of your smile.

Connie's stomach twisted. He didn't even realize. But she did.

Every time he spoke, she pieced together an image of you, so vivid that it felt like you were already there.

Every word, every gleam in Steven's eyes carved deeper into her. There it was again—that bitter thread of envy weaving through her.

She scolded herself internally. Steven deserved happiness, after all.

He had spent so long putting others before himself. Seeing him light up because of you should have been enough.

Shouldn't it?

Connie knew she shouldn't be this way. She had ended things years ago; they were too young and she hadn't been ready.

 Still, why did this happiness have to come at the cost of her own peace? Seeing him like this—so openly fond of someone else—brought a feeling that was hard to shake.

She had let him go.

She should be happy for him.

Should.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

It was early one morning when Steven burst into Connie's home.

The door swung open with such force that it thudded against the wall, and Connie mid-phone call with her mother, jumped up from the sofa.

"Steven?" Her voice was sharp with concern as he stood in the doorway, face flushed and eyes wide.

His curls were unruly, hands raking through them as he paced in frantic circles.

"She's here," his voice was pitched high with barely contained panic hadn't heard in years.

Connie's breath caught in her throat. A part of her wondered if her complexion had paled, if her surprise was as visible as she felt it must be.

She didn't need him to say more. The implication was clear: You were in Beach City. 

"Hey Mom, I'm going to call you back. Something's come up."

The moment she hung up Steven continued his pacing. There was a wildness to his eyes—a desperate energy that sent a pang of something undefinable through Connie.

"I can't see her...I-I just can't!" He turns to Connie with desperation painted across every line of his face. "I'm not ready."

The Maheswaran teen stepped toward him. "Wait wh—"

"I know I know, I'm a mess!" He motioned to his jacket, tugging at the sleeves. "I'm too nervous. What if I say something stupid? What if she realizes that I'm just weird?!"

The half-Gem's anxiety radiated off of him in waves as and he starts to pace once more.

He was sweating as his skin and hair began to take on a pink hue showcasing his fraying nerves.

 Connie instinctively grabs his shoulders to steady him. "Steven! Calm down! You need to breathe. You're overthinking it."

In her attempt to soothe him a light suddenly gleam in his eyes. His hands wraps around hers suddenly, startling her.

"I think we should fuse into Stevonnie." The words tumbled out so fast she almost missed them.

"...what?"

��Steven's grin brightens, more sure now. "We can meet her as Stevonnie. With your help I won't mess everything up."

Connie yanks her hands away as if stung. Stevonnie. That version of them, so complete, so complicated.

"Steven...y-you can't be serious!"

"C'mon! Just think about it. You're a girl, so you'd know what to say and how to gauge things better. I can't face her alone. Not yet." He spoke like it made perfect sense, like it was the most logical solution in the world.

Connie's breath caught. A myriad of emotions surged—betrayal, the flicker of old pain, and the gnawing realization of Steven's obliviousness to her own turmoil.

Why should she help him meet someone who might replace her in his heart? To help him woo someone who wasn't her? Why would she want to?

She wanted to yell, to refuse him outright, to protect herself from this emotional minefield.

But then she saw the way he looked at her—not with love but with trust.

The kind of trust that spoke of years of shared battles, laughter, and the silent understanding that only they had.

It twisted something in her heart leaving her feeling vulnerable. She had ended things for a reason. Steven deserved to find happiness.

Even if it wasn't with her.

Connie couldn't deny him, not when he needed her like this. With a tightened jaw, she release a defeated sigh.

"Fine," her voice was barely a whisper. "But we do this my way."

Relief softened Steven's tense posture, and before she could steel herself, he pulled her into a big hug. "Thank you Connie. I knew you'd understand!"

He steps back and quickly pulls out his phone. Clicking on the screen a few times, he shifted on his feet as he shakily puts the phone to his ear.

"Hey! It's Steven. About our meet-up later today—yeah, I'm okay just feeling a bit under the weather." He rasps his voice a little and force a light cough to sell the act.

Your muffled reply was on the other end. Connie didn't even have to hear your exact words to know what you'd said.

The way Steven's shoulders relaxed as a soft smile that crept across his lips—it was enough. It was everything.

And it made her stomach churn with a mix of emotions she could barely name.

Steven closed his eyes as if savoring the sound of your voice, his cheeks flushing a gentle pink—each reaction was a dagger twisting deeper.

She bit back a grimace. A whisper of curiosity tugged at her, unwilling to be ignored.

'What was it about you that could make Steven act like that?'

"No, no, you don't need to take care of me. I wouldn't want you to get sick." The son of Greg Universe and ̶P̶̶i̶̶n̶̶k̶ ̶D̶̶i̶̶a̶̶m̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶ Rose Quartz insisted, his voice softening in a way that made Connie's stomach twist.

The way he cared about you was so painfully evident and she had to steel herself as she stood by watching.

"Actually...my cousin Stevonnie is visiting," Steven adds with a hint of awkwardness. "They'd love to meet you. Maybe you both could hang out at the beach and finally get introduced to the Crystal Gems while at it?"

There was a pause, then muffled laughter filtered through the receiver causing his entire demeanor to change.

Eyes brightened he turns to Connie and sends her a thumbs up. She reluctantly mirrors it, her lips set in a forced smile.

As Steven continued the conversation Connie was left with her thoughts.

She wasn't ready for this.

Not the idea of meeting you, not the way Steven lit up because of you, and definitely not the confusing flutter in her chest as she thought about seeing you up close.

She began to brace herself for what was to come. She couldn't predict how this day would unfold, but she knew one thing—she already didn't like you.

Not at all.

But somewhere, buried under the jealousy and apprehension, was the tiniest ember of curiosity.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

Now merged, the semi-Gem stands before the mirror in the living room. Stevonnie's fingers tremble as they fluffed out their thick wavy hair.

The anxious energy beneath their skin was palpable—an odd fusion of Steven's heart-racing excitement and Connie's tight-lipped simmering unease—as they waited.

For you.

Their hands paused, fingers lingering in their curls before dropping with an eye-roll and scoff, "Jeez...is it that serious?"

A flare of irritation filled their chest as they stepped back, exhaling through their nose to calm the internal storm.

Stevonnie's brows knit together in question of the sudden emotion.

It wasn't just Steven's giddy anticipation or Connie's jealousy. It was something more tangled—anxiety mixed with an unfamiliar warmth.

 But there's no time to ponder further when the front door bursts open, the room filling with unrestrained laughter.

The boisterous sound bounces around the space as Pearl steps into view, her eyebrow twitching ever so slightly.

"Honestly Amethyst," Pearl chided, though there was a rare softness in her tone. Gaze finding the fusion, she offers a polite nod before gliding over to the nearby cushioned couch, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Garnet's silent presence filled the doorway next, her tall frame blocking the evening light momentarily as she stepped in.

The Gem's stoic expression softens just a touch when her gaze met Stevonnie's. Her lips subtly upturned as a way of unspoken reassurance.

Finally, Amethyst bounced in, her grin barely contained. She was cackling as she looked behind her yelling back, "Ya know, you're pretty funny for a meaty human!"

A familiar voice responds from beyond the door, "Why thank you my lil grape friend!"

Stevonnie's pulse quickened. It was you.

Their whole body seemed to pause, hands fidgeting nervously before forcing them to relax.

Steven's excitement surged, making their heart race, while Connie's wariness clawed at her mind.

But beneath it all there was a flicker of something different—a curiosity that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

'Okay' A short huff blew through their nose, eyes narrowing for just a moment in attempt to keep calm. 'Let's just get this over wi—'

"Hi! My name is _____. You must be Stevonnie right? Steven's cousin?"

The words hit Stevonnie like a surprise gust of wind.

Their eyes widen at the sight of you standing there. The warm glow of the sunlight that bathed you casted a golden halo around your figure.

In your hands you held a Tupperware bowl, the lid fogged from the warmth within.

Gaze was as warm as the Sun itself, smile soft and sweet—you were exactly Steven had described.

̶T̶̶h̶̶o̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶a̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶̶i̶̶c̶̶i̶̶p̶̶a̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶u̶̶s̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶r̶̶e̶̶a̶̶c̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶.

The sharp sting of jealousy began to shift, replaced by a begrudging acknowledgment of your kind disposition.

Something in Stevonnie melted while the other side tensed. The tight pull of jealousy mingling with awestruck joy tangled into an emotion that left them breathless.

Connie’s unspoken thoughts whispered, echoing Steven’s sentiment, but with a dawning realization.

Your presence was more than she expected. It wasn’t the competition she’d imagined; it was...something softer.

“Y-yeah! That uh, that’s me,” they managed, voice steady enough to pass for normal.

Amethyst gave Stevonnie an exaggerated wink from behind your back, and Stevonnie shot her an unamused look.

“It’s great to officially meet you,” you said. “Though I'm a little peeved Steven never told me about you. We can make up for it as long as I'm here! Ah! Feels like I already know you.”

The casual sincerity in your voice made Stevonnie's heart squeeze with something they refused to name.

“Likewise,” Stevonnie said, but their voice wavered, betraying the fusion’s internal war.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Time seemed to blur as the evening wore on. Stories were exchanged, laughter filled air, the sky outside slowly darkening with every passing hour.

Eventually it was time to go. You and Stevonnie walking along the shoreline toward Garnet's waiting silhouette in the distance.

The day's golden light fades, the sky deepening into hues of purple and blue as stars begin to reveal themselves.

The air was warm, the scent of salt carried on the breeze, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean created a comforting backdrop.

"I really had a good time today," you say, smile as genuine as ever. It sent a subtle ripple through Stevonnie, stirring emotions that were a blend of Steven’s joy and Connie’s reluctant acceptance.

Stevonnie's gaze lingers on you whenever you aren't looking, emotions wavering like a flame.

Steven's side of them basked in the warmth of your presence while Connie's shifted, unsettled by the pull she felt toward you.

The lingering envy that once felt sharp now dulled into a softer, almost wistful feeling.

Though even though the envy had dulled, replaced by an uninvited fascination, a faint sense jealousy remained.

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶n̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶c̶̶a̶̶p̶̶t̶̶i̶̶v̶̶a̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶a̶̶b̶̶o̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶e̶̶a̶̶s̶̶i̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶e̶̶c̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶t̶̶h̶ ̶p̶̶e̶̶o̶̶p̶̶l̶̶e̶, ̶h̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶e̶̶f̶̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶̶t̶̶l̶̶e̶̶s̶̶s̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶o̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶l̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶i̶̶e̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶p̶̶a̶̶c̶̶e̶̶s̶.

Frustrated by the rush of warmth in their chest, they push back with a question

"So...what do you think of Steven?" Stevonnie asked, attempting to sound casual. Their eyes briefly dart towards you to gauge your reaction.

"He talks about you a lot—says you're a great friend. And I can see that, especially after you brought him that homemade veggie soup."

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶a̶̶c̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶a̶̶m̶̶i̶̶l̶̶i̶̶a̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶w̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶j̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶o̶̶u̶̶s̶̶y̶. ̶b̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶n̶̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶c̶̶a̶̶m̶̶e̶. ̶I̶̶n̶̶s̶̶t̶̶e̶̶a̶̶d̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶̶u̶̶r̶̶p̶̶r̶̶i̶̶s̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶f̶̶l̶̶i̶̶c̶̶k̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶c̶̶u̶̶r̶̶i̶̶o̶̶s̶̶i̶̶t̶̶y̶.

You look up at them. "Steven? He's great!" your voice rose as you began listing off his qualities. "Honestly, he's one of the most thoughtful people I know! Always listens even when it's something small. And he's so brave, even when scared. I've never met anyone who cares as much as he does."

Stevonnie felt a bittersweet pang. Your admiration mirrored everything Connie had once felt a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶e̶̶p̶ ̶d̶̶o̶̶w̶̶n̶ for Steven.

Hearing you say it, seeing how deeply you understood him, brought a strange comfort.

But it was more than that. The candor in your voice spoke of someone who saw the best in others.

̶S̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶o̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶s̶̶e̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶o̶̶o̶.

The realization struck Stevonnie quietly, an unwelcome but persistent warmth settling in their chest.

"Really?" Stevonnie replied in a controlled voice, though their heart felt so heavy that it might fall out their ribcage.

The question was innocent enough but the ache behind it was palpable; a tug-of-war between Steven's quiet yearning and Connie's deep-seated denial.

For it was no longer just about rivalry—it was the possibility that someone could understand her in the way you understood Steven.

A gentle laugh escapes you and you nod frantically. "Of course! He...he just got this way of making everyone feel important ya know? Like they matter. And his jokes—oh my gosh, he cheers me up even when I'm not having the best day. Not to mention when he gets excited about something he loves; you should see the way his eyes light up like the stars."

Stevonnie's heart skip a beat the admiration in your voice. Something within them stirs. Their stomach knots with butterflies, warmth creeping up to their cheeks.

  'No!' A flicker of defiance twists their lips. 'This won't do.'

"Well speaking of boys in general. You got a boyfriend?" Forcing a mischievous grin they give you a playful nudge. "A pretty girl like you must have one waiting at home right?"

The second the words slipped out Stevonnie's stride faltered, feet coming to a halt as an unsettling pang bloomed in them, unexpected and sharp.

It was a strange sensation—something close to jealousy and possessiveness—an uncomfortable mix that made their chest feel tight.

The thought of you loving someone else stings in a way that makes their brow crease.

Before they could make sense of it your laugh broke the silence. "A boyfriend? Gosh no!"

The sound pulled Stevonnie out of their daze. They looked up just in time to notice you had slowed and stopped a few steps ahead, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon.

For the first time you've met your gaze avoided to meet theirs, instead lingering on the ocean with an unreadable expression softening your features.

"I've never really thought about dating or romance," you admit, voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "I spent most of my time focused on getting good grades, get into college and make my family proud—doing everything I was supposed to do. And now that I've done that...I don't really know how to connect with people in that way." A small laugh escaped, quiet and self-conscious. "I'm just now getting better at making friends socially. Romance? That's a far-off dream for me."

Stevonnie's heart ached in an odd camaraderie. The weight of expectations, the search for belonging—it's all too familiar. They resonated with your vulnerability, recognizing theirself in your words.

̶I̶̶t̶ ̶c̶̶h̶̶i̶̶p̶̶p̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶a̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶a̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶g̶̶u̶̶a̶̶r̶̶d̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶t̶ ̶p̶̶i̶̶e̶̶c̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶y̶ ̶p̶̶i̶̶e̶̶c̶̶e̶.

Before they could respond you speak again, gentler this time, like a secret being shared under moonlight.

"But Steven...?" you began, your voice taking on a wistful tone. They watch as the forlorn shadow in your eyes melt away, replaced by something softer, more reverent.

Your eyes became dazed as your lips curled into a tender smile. "He's different. He makes everything feel easy...one of the best I've ever met—Gem or human. It's really not hard for people to fall for someone like him."

You let out a gentle sigh, the stars above seeming to mirror the flicker of emotion in your eyes as you looked up at the twinkling dotted sky.

"I sure know I have."

Stevonnie.exe has stopped working.

A mixture of relief and longing that they hadn’t expected flushed through their veins.

You...like like Steven? ̶A̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶n̶̶t̶, ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶l̶̶i̶̶k̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶f̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶s̶̶a̶̶w̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶o̶̶o̶.

You blink rapidly as if to shake off the rush of emotion that had swept over you and let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Sorry that sounded super cheesy," you rub the back of your neck. "I'm sure you don't want to hear that, with him being your cousin and all."

You turn back to Stevonnie, only to find them standing perfectly still, staring at you with wide eyes and a faint flush coloring their cheeks.

"Stevonnie?" you called their name, snapping them out of it. They jolted slightly as if waking from a dream and sport a wobbly smile.

 "Cool," is all they managed to choke out, awkwardly lifting both hands in an stiff thumbs-up gesture. "That's...really cool."

The response was clumsy but it pulled a genuine laugh from you.

Despite the confusion, you played along, giving your own thumbs-up before gesturing to where Garnet stood a respectful distance away. "Well it's getting late. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

Stevonnie could only nod as they swallowed hard.

̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶n̶̶c̶̶e̶ ̶r̶̶e̶̶l̶̶u̶̶c̶̶t̶̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶e̶̶m̶̶o̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶n̶̶f̶̶u̶̶s̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶, ̶u̶̶n̶̶w̶̶e̶̶l̶̶c̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶ ̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶n̶, ̶b̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶g̶̶n̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶̶d̶.

Their steps were almost mechanical as they follow you down the beach, the soft crunch of sand beneath mirroring the dissonance in their mind and heart.

You filled the silence with a stream of light-hearted talk, a cheerful ramble that danced across topics as if trying to chase away any lingering awkwardness.

Stevonnie's responses were sparse—a series of hums, muttered agreements, and distracted nods.

Each step toward Garnet and the waiting car felt like a countdown, every word you spoke being another beat in the symphony of confusion humming in their mind.

It wasn't until Garnet was a few feet away did Stevonnie manage to gather themselves enough to say a proper goodbye. "Um...bye ____...I...I had fun."

You flash a smile as bright as the moon hanging in the dark sky. "I had a great time too. We should definitely do this again. Oh! And hopefully Connie can join us next time. I've been meaning to finally meet her, especially since I just finished a new novel series. You think she'd like if I brought them for her? It's a historical romance with strong female leads—the Bridgerton series, if you've heard of it. And if not, I have other books she might enjoy. I'm hoping we could maybe start a book club or have some discussions!"

The mention of the teen's interests sent a rush of warmth through Stevonnie. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about how deeply you cared.

Their posture stiffened ever so slightly as your words washed over them, smile faltering for just a heartbeat before forcing it to stay in place—a little too bright, a touch too tight.

For a moment the spark of Steven's enthusiasm fought with Connie's nervousness, creating a subtle conflict that flickered between excitement and something harder to define.

Though the mention of historical romance and strong female leads did spark an immediate interest on Connie's side briefly.

But as quickly as it came, the heaviness of more complex emotions settled in, making Stevonnie's heart thump with a sensation that felt uncomfortably like longing.

Fingers twitching, they tuck a loose strand of hair behind their ear—a move pure Connie.

"Y-yeah..." Their voice slipped on the first word before steading it. "Yeah...I think Connie would like that very much. She loves stories with strong characters."

You give a playful eyeroll as teasing grin spread across your face. "Well duh that's why I'm recommending it to her!" The fondness in your tone was unmistakable, and it seeped into Stevonnie's skin. "Steven says she's never without a book, usually something epic or full of history. Oh and her journaling! Always writing in it—filling it with thoughts and stories."

Leaning in a bit your eyes sparkled as you continued with enthusiasm. "Did you know she's into sword fighting? She trains with Pearl. And gosh her curiosity! He told me how fearless she is when it comes to going on new adventures. Always ready to explore even when things get wild."

Each word was like a tiny invisible thread that pulled at the fusion. Connie's pride in her achievements hummed under the surface, swirling with Steven's growing admiration for how deeply you appreciated someone he cared about.

You paused, a soft laugh escaping that caught Stevonnie off guard with its ease. "She's so smart too. Steven once mentioned how she'll share the most random but fascinating historical facts like it's second nature. And music—I don't know if she still plays, but he said she's got a real talent for it. I think it was the violin? I bet she could play classical pieces flawlessly."

Stevonnie's throat tightened, and for a moment, their composure wavered. Your words painted Connie in such vivid colors, filled with genuine admiration that was so tender—so pure.

̶F̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶r̶̶s̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶i̶̶m̶̶e̶, ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶ ̶m̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶r̶̶u̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶u̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶̶s̶̶t̶̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶, ̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶l̶̶e̶̶f̶̶t̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶e̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶e̶̶x̶̶p̶̶o̶̶s̶̶e̶̶d̶.

It was then a softer expression crossed your face as you looked down, shifting your foot in the sand did Stevonnie feel something give.

 "I don't know," your voice dipped with shy honesty. "I guess...I'm just really excited to meet her. She seems so incredible, even though I haven't even met her yet."

A small smile—hopeful and sweet—crossed your lips. "I hope she'll want to be my friend."

Stevonnie's emotions reached a breaking point.

A part of them, Steven's part, felt a surge of joy at how deeply you cared. But Connie's part—rooted in insecurity and longing—felt exposed and vulnerable.

̶S̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶n̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶m̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶n̶ ̶e̶̶n̶̶v̶̶y̶ ̶o̶̶r̶ ̶j̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶o̶̶u̶̶s̶̶y̶; ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶i̶̶f̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶i̶̶n̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶m̶̶a̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶t̶ ̶f̶̶l̶̶u̶̶t̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶i̶̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶i̶̶g̶̶n̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶.

"You...really know a lot about her...huh?" There was a mix of surprise and appreciation in their voice. "That means a lot—to both of us. She's always looking for people who see her, not just what she does but who she is.""

A soft breathy laugh escaped them, almost involuntary, tinged with something bittersweet.

"I think she'd really like to be your friend too..." Stevonnie whispered, the sincerity catching even them by surprise.

̶A̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶s̶ ̶p̶̶o̶̶i̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶g̶̶u̶̶a̶̶r̶̶d̶ ̶d̶̶r̶̶o̶̶p̶̶p̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶m̶̶p̶̶l̶̶e̶̶t̶̶e̶̶l̶̶y̶, ̶r̶̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶a̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶i̶̶e̶̶t̶, ̶t̶̶e̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶p̶̶e̶.

You look up at Stevonnie with wide eyes as a look of disbelief flash across your face before melting into a heart-shattering smile. "Really? You think so?!"

You seemed to catch yourself, quickly clearing your throat, though it didn't quite hide the excitement still glimmering in your eyes.

"Yeah that's cool or whatever," your attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by the slight bounce on your heels.

Stevonnie couldn't help but laugh at the sight as Garnet joined in, her laughter low and warm.

̶F̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶n̶ ̶j̶̶u̶̶s̶̶t̶ ̶a̶̶d̶̶m̶̶i̶̶r̶̶a̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶y̶̶m̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶, i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶m̶̶a̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶i̶̶f̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶a̶̶l̶̶l̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶s̶̶e̶̶l̶̶f̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶e̶̶l̶ ̶i̶̶t̶.

And that's when you brought it up.

Almost as if the sudden thought appeared, you let out a casual laugh. "Oh and I just realized—Stevonnie huh? You now your name kinda sounds like a mix between Steven and Connie. Isn't that funny?"

The smile froze on Stevonnie's face. A jolt of panic shot through them and they balked. "W-what?!"

Stammering with wide eyes, they struggled to find their footing. "Wha? What do you mean? No it's not like that at all." Their voice tripped over itself, each word tangling into the next. "I mean I'm older than both of them—Steven and Connie. I don't even look like them if they were merged together hahaha!"

They gave an awkward laugh, though it sounded forced, the tension clear in their voice.

You blinked, your brows furrowing as confusion crossed your features. Before you could voice the questions forming on your lips Garnet's voice cut through the moment.

"____. You're going to miss the RoboDog movie marathon if you stay any longer," she called, her voice voice cool and even, yet somehow managing to carry a knowing lilt.

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the movie series, all confusion momentarily replaced by excitement.

"Oh! Right! Thanks for reminding me Garnet." You shot a quick glance back at Stevonnie, your expression brightening. "It was really nice meeting you Stevonnie! And tell Steven I'll call him later!"

You paused a beat as if considering your next words. Head lowering from fluster, the words tumbled out before you could stop them, "And...do you think maybe you don't mention what I said earlier? I think I'd die if he knew."

Garnet, standing beside you, puts a gentle hand on your shoulder with a knowing expression. "No worries. Steven won't know of your confession about your budding romantic feelings for him."

The tension from your body disappears at her reassurance making you release a breath of relief. "Thank yo—"

You freeze mid-gratitude. Your eyes widened as your head whips towards her, the question slipping out in a rush. "Wait—how did you know?!"

Stevonnie felt a rush of heat climb their neck at the full confirmation. The tension inside them strained, pressing against the fragile seams of their shared being.

Steven’s excitement warred with Connie’s panic, and under it all, a trembling awareness pulsed with each heartbeat.

Their nails dug into their palms as they struggled to hold steady. It was taking every ounce of self-control to keep from separating then and there.

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶u̶̶r̶̶g̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶e̶̶a̶̶k̶ ̶a̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶.

Garnet's chuckled softly, voice tinged with a poetic clarity. "Love is felt even when it's hidden. It shines brightly even to those who cannot see."

She gives Stevonnie one last look—a look that conveyed understanding, as if urging them to accept what was brewing inside.

You blinked, caught between embarrassment and wonder as Garnet gently urged you toward the nearby car.

"W-wait! Hold on now! I can explai—"

Your stuttering attempts at saving face were met with another quiet laugh as she guided you inside, shutting the door with a quiet finality.

Stevonnie stood unmoving as the car rolled away, the sound of tires on sand growing fainter until all that remained was the soft whisper of the waves and the steady thump of their heartbeat.

The air was thick with unsaid truths that everything was changing.

It was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretched thin as the fusion watched the taillights disappear over the horizon.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, the tension in Stevonnie's frame snapped—collapsing into two separate forms.

Steven stumbled slightly, catching himself with wide eyes that remained fixed after where the car last was in a mix of awe and confusion. His cheeks were pink, emotions an open book.

Connie stood beside him with a downcast gaze; her fingers curling into the fabric of the skirt she wore as her heart ached with a bittersweet awareness.

The soft press of the fabric in her hands grounded her, kept her from spiraling further into what-ifs and whys.

Cool breeze bit at her skin, but she didn't flinch, heavy heart thudding in her chest with a realization she couldn't yet voice.

It was as if a door had opened, letting in the rush of emotions she’d created and kept locked away all in one day, mixing with the echoes of your admiration and her own conflicted feelings.

Steven's eyes stayed fixed on the empty stretch of road—a soft, wistful ache in his gaze.

"So," he whispered after a beat, breaking the stillness. His voice quivered low and uncertain. "What did you think of ____?"

Connie's heart thudded painfully as she turned to look at him, the moonlight casting long shadows across his face.

Her eyes softened as she saw the flush in his cheeks and the hint of hope in his expression. It mirrored a feeling she recognized all too well.

Words were caught in her throat all tangled up in emotions she hadn't even begun to sort through.

Both confessions—having feelings for Steven, dare say even admiring Connie—it reverberated in her mind.

So much it came with the stinging realization that tinge of jealousy she'd ignored was more than she wanted to admit.

That now, mingled with that envy was something new—something she wasn’t sure she could deny any longer.

"What I think...?" she started, the words trailing off as she searched for something true to say.

Steven's hopeful, expectant eyes met hers, and for the first time she felt the truth settle heavily in her chest.

There was no escaping it now—the feelings she thought she’d buried were surfacing, mingling with the unexpected warmth she now feels when she hearing your voice or seeing your smile.

A soft rueful smile tugged at her lips, and she let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

"I'm thinking how bad is it to say I see why you're smitten."

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓃.

Dallas Winston x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 3K

cw -> BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE, lots of cursing from dally >:(, movie Dally (not book Dally), kinda ooc but eh, mentions of wet dreams (for plot mwahaha), dirty talk from Dal, eepy reader, side fucking, ooo he falls asleep with his dick inside, lazy ending :C

Don’tcha just love him? I do :DDD It's so lazily done, I'm so sorry but pls do enjoy!

The hollering was loud as you rushed out of your home with just a backpack of belongings.

You hadn’t expected a fight to go this far. Yes, your parents weren’t the nicest, but kicked out until you “mature up”? You had never experienced this, nor were you ready to take a walk of shame over to Dally’s place for the evening.

You and Dally were practically siblings with how well you two knew each other. Bonded at the hips since you were both little, and it never changed. You had grown accustomed to his way of expressing friendship, through playful attacks and sharing of belongings. 

Dally may have been a bit tough when expressing his affections towards the people he cared for, but he still cared regardless. He believed tough love was the way to go.

The walk was pitiful, your feet were almost scraping the ground out of genuine disbelief. Thank God it was sunset, you still had some sunlight left to get you to Buck’s place so you could find Dally. Maybe he wouldn’t mind you staying over, a hangout, as he called it.

In just a throw sweatshirt and joggers, you hustled along the sidewalks to get to your destination a bit faster. The cool evening breeze wasn’t pleasant, but it kept you awake and kept you pacing.

The light of Buck’s building had finally come into view after you had walked a few more blocks, and the loud boisterous music hit your ears not long after the lights hit your eyes. You were relieved you had made it before the sun had fully gone down, heaven forbid men would know how to keep anything in their pants.

Scampering up to the front door took enough courage out of you, a lady like you in a wretched neighbourhood like this wasn’t fitting at all. But you were desperate, you were in need and Dally was your only go-to. Well, you could’ve gone to the Curtis’ household, but it was a bit more uncomfortable there because you knew less people.

Knocking with cold and clammy hands against the old door, you hesitantly awaited the arrival of Buck or someone else who heard your knock. Luckily the wait wasn’t long, after a few mere seconds the door was opened. A drunk man, not at all Buck, gave you the snarkiest expression you’ve ever witnessed and let you in. Graciously, you hurried inside.

The bustling people bothered you, especially so when you could see two people literally doing it on a pool table. Disgusting, you thought as you rushed through the swarms of chattering and dancing folk to the stairs that led to Dally’s apartment.

Shoes clomping against the wooden floorboards of the stairs, you found yourself questioning what his apartment room was. Was it the one on the left? No, it was the one on the right. Right? You flipped through your memories like files, and confirmed that it was on the left. Silly you. But you were still polite, knocking on the door quietly.

The door had swung open, and you were met with a waft of cheap tobacco and a wet Dally. Oh, he’d just gotten out of the shower. What a surprise, you thought he never showered.

“The fuck are you doin’ here? Why didn’t you call me? It’s fuckin’ dark outside, you dipshit.” He berated you even if it had no meaning, ushering you into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

His body glistened with water droplets that were scattered all along his shoulders and back, even his chest as the droplets were caught by the towel seated at his hips. Jesus, a sculpted body too. Wait, why the hell were you staring? That was too inappropriate! You mentally chastised yourself while kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag to the unswept floor.

The weight of the fact that your parents had actually kicked you out started to sink in, and the way your shoulders sank wasn’t really that hard to spot when Dally looked at you. Something was wrong if you had brought a bag and a saddened expression over to his place.

“The fuck happened? You good, or is somethin’ buggin’ ya?” He asked you, gesturing vaguely for you to sit on his aged mattress. You listened, of course you would, and sat consciously on his bed. He really didn’t mind changing in front of you, he just made sure his back was facing you so you didn’t see... the parts where the sun doesn’t shine. 

“Parents kicked me out, didn’t wanna go to Johnny’s or Darry’s...” You mumbled under your breath, holding in your breath as you looked at the floor to give him some privacy. After all, he was kind enough to let you into his place.

Dally gave a hum of acknowledgement, which may have been seen as rude, but it was really just him thinking. Going over to Johnny’s place didn’t make sense considering the fact that his parents were a bit too bitchy and cruel around people, and Darry wasn’t exactly fond of people sleeping over at his house. Sure, people staying for a while was more than welcome, but everyone knew that Darry was strict about sleepovers. 

“You’re such an idiot. What did you even do to get kicked out? Your parents are the chillest compared to all of ours.” Dally huffed, pulling on his joggers and drying his dark chocolate hair lazily with his towel.

“Dunno, they just said I had to leave until I “mature up” or somethin’.” You grumbled a bit angrily, not directed at him obviously, you were just confused and frustrated at your parents.

Dally nodded, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray and plopping his body beside you, smiling a bit as if to reassure you.

“Ah, whatever. You don’t need your parents when you got me, yeah? Now, what clothes did you bring? I doubt sleeping in tights is gonna be comfy.. especially considering how much you roll around.” He teased, knowing you needed at least a bit of humour to boost your mood.

And it worked. You smiled a bit, lightly punching his chest out of playful irritation from his comment. But you really couldn’t deny it, you could be a very active sleeper when you were stressed or angry. Frustration and sleep just didn’t mix for you.

“I brought some pajamas just in case, should I change now? It’s only 8.” You chuckled as he winced dramatically at your punch. Pfft, like you actually did him damage.

“Well, I’m tired now. So either you change and we can take a nap, or you can deal with me complaining about not sleeping until you decide to sleep.” Dally huffed, looking at you with a sleepy expression.

The words he spoke were about the only serene thing you’d heard all evening. No yelling, no obnoxious cars, just faint party music and Dally’s dulcet yet gruff voice. It was odd how comforting something as silly as that could be.

“Ugh, fine, you’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue out at him, earning you a playful slap to your arm as you hurried off of his bed to get your bag.

The bag sat limply against the wall near the door of his apartment, and you opened it swiftly to find your pajamas, but quite literally let your facial expression drop to utter disbelief. No, you surely hadn’t forgotten something as important as your night shirt! You scavenged disdainfully through the mess of stuffed clothes and beauty supplies in your bag in hopes of finding the shirt you thought you’d packed, but ended up looking at Dally with a sorrowful expression.

Dally looked at you with eyes displaying annoyed confusion, but seeing that little mopey frown on your face told him all he needed to know. You either forgot something, or remembered something important.

“What is it?” He questioned instinctively, looking at you through half lidded eyes as he propped himself up with one arm.

“I forgot a night shirt.. you think I could borrow one for t’night? Promise I’ll give it back.” You muttered, a bit embarrassed by your carelessness and forgetfulness. But nonetheless Dally chuckled a bit and nodded.

“Fuckin’ idiot. Yeah, the closet should have a few shirts. Don’t touch my leather.” He huffed, flopping onto his back and letting himself soak up some much needed rest.

You nodded and headed over to the closet, feet softly hitting the floor as you found his small closet. Already ajar thanks to his laziness, you searched through the hung clothes and stumbled upon a relatively clean looking shirt. A white one, not a stain on it either.

Taking your only pair of night shorts and the shirt you gratefully borrowed from Dally into his bathroom to change, you found yourself eyeing the soft fabric with gentle intent. Dally was kind enough to let you borrow something of his...

You pushed that thought down, instead focusing on getting out of the uncomfortable clothes you wore to look decent on the sidewalks. Taking off your pants to replace them with your night shorts, and taking off your top and bra to cover up with Dally’s shirt. It smelled like him, and it smelled strangely nice.

You took your leftover clothes out with you, chucking them mindlessly near your bag somewhere on the floor near the bed before plopping down dramatically beside him. The weight of you on the bed made it sink, and Dally was a bit startled out of his sleep when you did so.

Dally looked at you with a stink expression, but it was all playful.

“Good, now hush so I can sleep.” He muttered, throwing the blanket over the top of you two and sighing contentedly.

You just smiled and nodded, lying comfortably on your back to sleep just because you felt a little stiff in his mattress. But it was comfortable in all honesty, being warm and close to someone so close to you.

You were slowly jostled out of your sleep by a hand shaking at your shoulder. While you didn’t really want to move from out of your spot since you were oh so comfy under the warm sheets, the vigour in the shaking of your shoulder didn’t cease.

So begrudgingly, you gave a hum of acknowledgement to show that you were at least somewhat awake, and Dally’s voice was all you heard for a moment.

“Sweetheart, please... had a dream ‘bout you. Got me fuckin’ hard as shit. I’m askin’ nice.” Dally murmured, voice gruff and scratchy from the lack of use as he slept. You were almost awake, the mention of him having a dream about you didn’t spur much of a reaction from you.

“Mmh.. ‘m tired, Dal. Go to bed.” You huffed, rolling from your back to your side, back facing his front as you smushed your cheek into the pillow. 

But your words didn’t really help him, nor did it encourage him to stop. In a way, you turning to your side was meant to tease him. To egg him forward and see what he’d do. Dally wasn’t stupid, he knew you well enough to know a trick or two of yours would always come after a chastise.

So Dally’s hand came to softly hold your waist, caressing the skin as the shirt you borrowed from him rode up a little. Goddamn, those little bottoms you wore showing just the tiniest bit of your asscheek, the flesh threatening to drive him mad. How could you look so precious without even trying?

“Oh sweetheart.. you’re so perfect, so pretty. God, lemme take ‘em offa ya. Please? I’m askin’ nice.” Dally almost begged you, almost pleaded. While you didn’t expect him to ask so kindly, he was just doing it so you didn’t make him repeat himself. He was a smart man, thinking ahead the way he did. 

So you nodded, still happily sprawled on the mattress without a care in the world. And your nod was all it took for Dally’s hands to scoop under the elastic waistband of your sleepwear, and yank it down to your knees while pulling your underwear with it. The sudden coolness of his frigid fingers had you waking up a bit more, giving you some alertness as his hands freely squished the globes of your rear.

“Never knew under all the clothes, you’d look so pretty. Fuckin’ shit, you’re doin’ things to me that I don’t like.” A lie. Dally was happy diving into the feelings of admiration and want, the lustful desire to have your body, but also the soft blooming of love and adoration that even led him to this point.

“Mmh.. like what you see, Dal?” You questioned him teasingly, giggling sleepily.

“That’s a stupid question. ‘Course I do, now scoot closer. Too goddamn far away from me to do shit.” He grumbled a bit, moving his hand from your asscheek to slip between your legs and right next to your aching core.

You weren’t necessarily wet, you were tired and obviously weren’t in the right mood for this, but Dally was determined to make you feel good somehow. So his fingers gently spread your labia, and his index finger started twirling excitedly around the soft bud of your clit.

A soft sigh of contentment escaped you as his hand worked its magic on you. Now, you knew very well that Dally was an adventurous guy. Lots of his nights were spent with flings, or at the bars touching on the ladies that threw themselves onto him. Of course he would have experience, much more than you anyway. But how would he even feel if you told him you’d never done it? Would he reconsider?

But Dally was gentle with you, smoothing over your clit in repetitive circles as if trying to dizzy your clit. And it worked, really. Your hips, probably tired and sore, were meeting the soft ruts of his hand, enjoying how soft and sensual his movements were.

He was treating you like porcelain. 

“Feelin’ alright, sweetheart? Got my fingers soaked, think she’s gonna let me in yet?” He murmured exasperatedly into your ear, the warm air making your skin tingle with delight.

You smiled, eyes lazily fluttering open as you turned your head over to look at him a bit. How cute, pink cheeks and puffy lips paired with desperate eyes and furrowed brows. How could someone look so cute when they were so focused?

You giggled a bit when he called your pussy a she, but you nodded slowly.

“But Dal.. this is my first time. Y’sure you wanna take it?” You asked so softly, so serenely as you laid wrapped in his arms.

So soft, so gorgeous. Dally never felt such a tender feeling before.

Without any hesitation, Dally nodded his head vigorously and smiled a bit. The sweet crinkles of his eyes make you smile too.

“Alright then, just be careful, yeah? I trust you..” You mumbled, letting him take his hand away from in between your legs.

He moved his arm to wrap around you, lazily inserting his fingers into your mouth as if silently telling you to clean the mess you made while his other hand arranged his cock with your pretty pussy. He was just mere millimeters away from claiming you as his, forever staining your pussy as used.

But when you gently bumped your hips to his, like a silent way of urging him to continue, he did so. His tip was slowly guided to your perfect cunt, the warmth of its inviting juices nearly having him in a chokehold. And in one small rut, the tip of his hot and heavy cock was plunged into your precious cunt, innocence stripped from it as you made the softest croon around his fingers.

It wasn’t long until Dally started to rut his hips against yours, flesh clashing against flesh to make the unholiest clapping sounds. Thank the heavens he thought to put his fingers in your mouth, an inexperienced and lovely thing like you was sure to make a bit too much noise.

But Dally was gentle as he banged out the first round with you.

Muffled moans and groans from the both of you filled the small apartment, and the scent of sex was pungent as your hand found Dally’s forearm. Nails digging into the soft flesh as the nerves in between your legs started to burn, a hot and searing sizzle that had your already tired brain going bonkers.

“Dal- Dal..” You muttered, muffled cries of his name being silenced by the fingers plugging your mouth. How were you supposed to tell him it felt weird? 

Maybe it was just overstimulation, but your legs were shaky, your abdomen felt tight, and your head was growing fuzzy. Not at all in an unpleasurable way, you were having the time of your life. But, it was a little discomforting from how overwhelming it was considering how you had just had your first proper climax given to you.

But Dally didn’t stop, no. He was too far gone in the flutters of your cunny’s walls, too engulfed in the pleasure of hearing your sounds and feeling your body pressed right up against his. You were so precious, so perfect. How could he not just let himself mould into you?

And sure enough, the overstimulation left your poor cunt reaching another peak, legs beginning to twitch as you simmered down. Thankfully, Dally seemed to be done too, as he ceased his movements and just held you tight.

You bathed in the afterglow of such an intimate moment, letting Dally’s body heat soak into you as you both rested contentedly.

There’d just be a hell of a mess, a noise complaint, and a lot of explaining to do awaiting you two.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 29 - Demon!Seungcheol + Knife & Asphyxiation

@chaoticrapavini Said: Gurllllllll you know I don't be asking on here often so if I do this wrong don't attack meeee! Kinktober is upon us, and Demon Scoups with some knife play, maybe him being choked, and a lil blood never hurt anyone. Go wildddd🤭 pwetty please 🥰 A/n: So, this one turned out way more angsty than I ever intended, but I kinda like it. Ngl, I think it's really interesting, so I hope you like it! Might not be the smuttiest prompt, but I think the plot makes up for it lmaoo Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monster Features, Blood Word Count: 1,990 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Dark clouds line the sky, a dull grey mist permeating the air. The cool dampness of the rain settles onto your skin, sinking deep into your bones and causing you to shiver. Around you, the cemetery is empty, the crunching of leaves and dead grass beneath your feet offering you company as you walk through the graves.

A loud caw is heard behind you, followed by the familiar sound of wings fluttering. A breeze drifts by, and you watch as an unkindness of ravens fly over your head. As they begin to circle overhead, a smirk pulls at the corner of your lips.

Still, you continue on as if it were nothing. 

The ravens follow your path deeper into the cemetery. They act almost like your own personal guardians as you finally reach the section that you’ve been looking for.

The large doors creak as you push them open, the faint light of the sun hidden behind those ever obstructing clouds filtering in. Dust floats through the air as you step inside, a stone alter resting in the centre of the room. Walking around to the opposite side of the slab, you let out a low breath.

The sound of fluttering wings echoes from behind you, an ominous presence suddenly at your back.

A moment of silence.

“I’m surprised you came.” You keep your voice low, a tone of indifference filling the tomb.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” His deep reply nearly has a shiver caressing your spine.

You round on him, a firm look resting on your features. No matter how happy you are to see him, you cannot ignore the ache in your heart. “It’s been several months, Cheol.”

He winces, body tense. “I know.”

Shame courses through his veins, averting his gaze to the side. His large wings seem to droop behind him, the dark purple, almost black feathers glinting in the faint light that cascades through the open doors.

He hardly looks any different from the last time you saw him. Same shaggy black hair framing his sharp features. Dark brown eyes which still seem to hold the stars inside of them despite how dull they appear. Even his clothes - black jeans, a t-shirt, and his signature leather jacket - still fit him perfectly. Enough so that you can just make out the muscle hidden beneath.

“I missed you.” The words are but a whisper on his lips, yet they fill the empty space with the intensity of a siren going off.

Your eyes fall shut, swallowing your building emotions. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did.” He counters. “Not a day went by without you on my mind.”

You purse your lips. “A lot has changed since we last saw each other, Cheol.”

“Do you no longer feel the same?”

You cannot deny the way that the hint of panic in his voice makes your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

“No, it’s not-“

“Tell me what I can do.” His words come out a bit frantic, footsteps echoing against the stone walls as he rushes over to your side. “Tell me what I can do to make it better. To fix things between us. I can’t lose you again.”

“Don’t-“ Your breath hitches in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” His brow furrows, attempting to get you to even look at him once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’ll only make things harder.”

“Make what harder?” He takes another step forward, hand settling on your shoulder gently to try and coax you to turn towards him.

“This.”

In the blink of an eye, you have him pinned to the alter by his throat. Your fingers squeeze against the sides of his neck, the tip of a dagger suddenly pressing against his chest. You can feel the furious beating of his heart as he looks up at you with wide eyes, lips parted in shock. The worst part is that he doesn’t even attempt to fight back.

You can feel his throat bob beneath your hand as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows drooping in sadness. The fact that there seems to be a clear notion of acceptance and understanding held within his gaze only makes your hands begin to tremble.

A single tear spills down your cheek, soon dripping onto his skin.

“Do it.” 

His words catch you completely off guard, fingers tightening subconsciously around his neck.

You bite your lip.

“If I am to die by anyone’s hand, it is a blessing to be felled by your own.”

A broken sob escapes your throat, and you push yourself off of him. The dagger in your hand clatters to the floor as you press yourself against the wall. Slowly, you shake your head, sliding to the ground as more tears spill from your eyes.

“I can’t-“ You hiccup. “I can’t do this.”

Not even a second goes by until Seungcheol appears crouched in front of you. Gently, carefully, he reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his hand.

Lifting your tearful gaze, you meet his own.

“Please-” You choke on your words, hands still trembling as you hold them in front of yourself. “Don’t make me do this.”

Immediately, Seungcheol wraps you in his arms, his wings coming to surround you both. The deep purple feathers offer their protection, shrouding you in his touch and letting you know that he’s right there. That he will always be right there.

“Shhh,” Gentle hands caress your back, tucking your head beneath his chin. “I’m right here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m right here.”

Another sob escapes your lips, and you find yourself clinging onto him for dear life.

“They want me to bleed you-“ Your hands tighten over the leather of his jacket. “They want me to bleed you, and present them with your blood.”

Seungcheol inhales sharply, his arms pulling you in closer as his wings tighten around the both of you. He knows how difficult your choices have been lately, your life having taken a drastic turn since meeting him. You both knew the dangers of being together, but love had blinded the both of you since the beginning. Now, faced with the cold, hard truth of the matter, Seungcheol regrets ever leaving you on your own.

He should have stayed. There is no doubt in his mind. Maybe then they wouldn’t have dared to sink their grimy claws into you like this. He thought things would be okay. All the little check-ins he made to you, ensuring your safety… he never realized just how bad things had gotten.

There is no one to blame but himself.

Taking a deep breath in, Seungcheol steels his resolve. He knows what has to be done, and he will gladly spend the rest of eternity atoning for his sins. Especially when they involve you.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice manages to pull Seungcheol out of his thoughts, his hand now holding your previously discarded dagger. The way your gaze keeps darting from the cold steel, to his face and back, with fear in your eyes, has him smiling at you assuringly.

“Relax, Angel. I told you I would never hurt you, and I fully intend to always keep my word.” His tone is soft, soothing over you as he comes to kneel before you. A blink, and he’s flipped the dagger in his hand, offering you the handle once more. “They’re expecting you to deliver my blood, are they not?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“I will gladly bleed for you, My Love.”

The sincerity you see shining within his dark gaze has your lips clamping shut. Hesitantly, you reach for that dagger, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. Knowing him, though, and how he has always been with you, you know that Seungcheol is telling nothing but the undeniable truth.

Everything he is always, and will always, belong to you.

“You don’t have to do this.” Lightly, you shake your head at him.

He simply smiles at you in response. “I want to.”

“But what if I don’t want you to.” You swallow your emotions, hand tightening over the pommel of the dagger.

Carefully, he reaches out to place his hand on top of yours over the handle. A soft expression rests on his features, eyes kind and reassuring.

“Trust me.”

Taking a slow breath in to steady your nerves, you nod your head.

In an instant, Seungcheol forces your hand forward and plunges that dagger deep into his chest. A flurry of wings and feathers surround you, ravens suddenly filling the space of the empty tomb. Their screeches reverberate against the stone, a rush of black filling your vision and forcing you to look away. All you can feel for the moment is the slow drip of warm blood coating your hand.

Your fingers tighten on that pommel, an indescribable ache erupting within your heart. Your lips fall open in a pained cry, but no sound escapes you. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you try desperately to remove that dagger from his chest. However, with the commotion around you, and your overwhelming emotions, it makes it hard to see, let alone think.

Then, as if the world around you has stopped, the tomb goes eerily quiet.

You haven’t even realized you had closed your eyes until you’re blinking them open. There is no more warmth oozing onto your hand, grip suddenly feeling empty as you tremble like a leaf upon the ground. Once your vision clears, you nearly choke on another sob.

There, leaning against the alter with his arms crossed casually against his chest, rest Seungcheol. Vials of blood line the top of the stone beside him, your dagger resting lightly to their right. Not a single spot of red can bee seen on the blade, nor on his shirt as he smiles at you softly, his wings fluttering lightly behind him.

Not a single feather litters the ground, nor is there sight or sound of any remaining ravens.

Your lips part, a shaky exhale escaping you, “How…?”

“A lot has changed since we last saw each other, My Love.”

The way he repeats your own words to you from earlier has a gasp escaping your throat. Without wasting another second, you scramble to your feet, practically flinging yourself into his awaiting arms.

“Don’t ever do something as reckless as that again!” You scold him, breath stuttering as you hug him tightly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Nah,” He chuckles lightheartedly, hand soothing over your spine, “You can’t get rid of me that easily. What do you think I’ve spent all of this time away from you doing?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You- you overgrown chicken!” You smack his chest a few times for good measure.

Small ‘ow’s escape him with each hit, chuckling fondly as he wraps his wings around you once more. The corner of his lips quirk upwards as you bury yourself into his embrace, fingers curling into the material of his shirt and clinging to him for dear life.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” He says softly, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’m here for good this time. I’m not going anywhere, and if I do, you are most certainly coming with me.”

“Damn straight.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes. A firm poke is given to his chest. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” A low hum escapes him as he quickly flips your positions. Gently, he lifts you onto the stone alter, settling himself between your thighs. His hands smooth over your sides, a dark gleam shining within his eyes as he slowly sinks to his knees before you. “For now, why don’t you let me make it all up to you.”

[taleahbabyyy]

My perfect girl chapter two

A/N since I was kinda curious on how this one would play out so I decided to make it another chapter.

you still can’t believe what happened that night, you don’t know how you survived or why he let you live. You still think about it every night whenever it gets dark out and you can’t really get over how hard he fucked you and made you his, you can’t get over how he kissed you and held you. Yes he’s a vampire but he’s the only one that’s ever seen you, truly seen you and you can’t get that part out of your mind.

He wasn’t your first but he damn sure was your last and only. you can’t really look at anyone the same any man the same after the way he handled you, you could still feel him as if he was still touching your delicate skin you could still feel his hot breath on your neck. You’re trying your hardest to fight off the feeling of wanting him again to feel him against you again but still you’re afraid of him and you don’t ever wanna see him again.

Your parents were working a long one again so you wouldn’t see them until tomorrow, you decided to kill some time and clean up the place and read. Once you were done reading you decided to go for a walk while the sun was still out, somehow you made it all the way to a friends house who was hosting a party so you stayed all the way till night time when you finally decided to go home after you drank some moonshine.

You had a couple of glasses of it not enough to make you drunk but enough to make you feel good, while walking home you completely forgot about what was out at night and the dangers of walking late at night. You were now only a few minutes away from home still walking as the wind made your dress dance as the cool breeze tickled your soft smooth skin.

Finally you made it home but you never got the chance to walk inside, you heard a weird noise that made you look away and once you looked back you seen him standing there in front you, Remmick was suddenly in front of you, you stared at him for a moment as you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You both wouldn’t take your eyes off each other as he was staring you down never looking away, he then smiled at you big”well well if it isn’t my perfect girl, have you already forgotten bout me?.”

“Remmick.” You say fearfully he then chuckles “yeah darlin it’s me I know you haven’t forgotten about me I made sure of that when I left my marks on ya.”

You shake your head as you try to walk away but he ends up being in front of you again as if he teleported, you look at him stunned as you then fall onto the ground while you sit up slightly on your back.

“Please don’t do this again I can’t handle it please.”

“Shh Y’know as much as you beg me to not touch ya I know how badly yer body is achin for me.”

You start to tear up again as you shake your head no, he then kneels down and wipes away your tears with his thumb as he tilts his head and looks at you. “I heard you darlin, I heard how badly you wanted me to touch your soft skin again how ya wanted me to take ya roughly just like how I did that night.”

“That’s not true you sick freak!.” He chuckles “oh y/n it’s absolutely true, y’know ya were all I could really think about when I was away but I just couldn’t stay away from my perfect girl I have to have you again I need to feel ya again.”

You see him start to drool again as his eyes start to darken from pure lust you begin to tremble. “Please leave me alone I’m not yours I don’t belong to you!.”

“Oh but yer wrong you will always belong to me sweetheart and after tonight you’ll never leave my side again.”

You try to get up and run but he grabs you and yanks your ankle making you cry out. he throws you over his shoulder and walks and takes you away further and further away from your house.

Finally he made it to what it looked like an abandoned cottage, as he kicks open the front door and takes you into the bedroom and throws you onto the bed making a whining sound from the mattress wires.

You start to sob silently as you see him closing the door and locking it as he then walks closer to you and sits on the bed. he gives you a sickening twisted smile that made you feel a pit in your stomach.

“You’re a monster.” You finally say it out loud as much as you’ve been thinking it, not caring if it only makes things worse for you or not”yes, I thought you knew that already baby?.”

“I wanna see my parents again please don’t do this.” You beg and beg but it only falls on deaf ears he starts to trace his fingers on your thigh “we can always pay yer parents a visit once this is all over with.”

“No! Please They ain’t done nothin wrong please just leave them alone!.”

He sighs”as you wish darlin but you best act right now or else I’ll pay them a visit myself.”

He loves seeing you like this, he loves seeing you so terrified of him yet you cave to his touch every time he touches you. He needs you so bad and deep down you want to feel him again and he knows it.

He leans in forward and captures your lips with his and kisses you softly but rough at the same time, you finally kiss him back reluctantly as he starts to kiss at you hungrily. You don’t know why this is happening again but yet here you’re obeying him like an obedient child.

He slides his hand under your dress and feels your soaked folds through your silk underwear, you try to push him away but fail miserably. Once you tried to push your hand slips and slides down accidentally on his bulging part of his pants making him even more hard then what he was before.

He starts to trail kisses on your jawline and neck all the way down to your breasts sucking on them leaving marks once again, he then latches onto your nipple and begins to lick at the the sensitive hard buds and sucking on them making you moan and whimper. He stops kissing you and starts to unzip his pants you bite down your lip as you see him fully, he walks closer to you you finally decide to stand up and walk over to him and drop down to your knees.

He already knew what you were about to do but was a bit surprised that you were gonna do it since you usually let him do all the work and let him be dominant, but you wanted to taste him just as bad as him wanting to taste you.

You finally take him whole as you slowly start to suck the tip and move your head back and forth hearing him groan out, this is your first time doing this you’ve never done something like this before not even with your last boyfriend who was always so sexual with you.

Still bobbing your head back and fourth slowly trying to take all of him in even though that was impossible, he was grabbing on your hair guiding your moments.

You could tell it was really doing something to him as he was trying his absolute hardest to not moan as much but failed”yer so fuckin good to me baby fuck just-don’t stop fuck.”

Doing as you were told you kept going and going until you started to feel him about to release but he stops you and pushes himself back, you look at him confused. He lifts you up as he rips off your dress and underwear leaving you bare. He then pushes you on the bed forcefully taking you by surprise he takes off his pants and shirt leaving him in only his chain and tank top on showing off his biceps.

He climbs on top of you and aligns his member above your soaked entrance and immediately slams himself inside of you making you moan and cry out his name.

He starts to thrust inside of you, damn you missed this you really missed this. He grabs your thigh and holds it tightly as it gives him more access, he starts to kiss you once more as you bite down on his bottom lip making him groan as that only makes things worse for you. He slams his hand down beside your head on the mattress.

“Fuck baby I’m sorry but I can’t hold back on ya only longer.” You look at him confused as he then pulls out of you and slams back inside of you now pounding inside of you slamming his hips harshly against yours making you moan and scream his name.

“Lemme hear you scream my name darlin, tell me who ya belong to.” You don’t say anything as you roll your hips with his trying to steady the rhythm, he starts to get impatient and pinches your sensitive buds making you whine”I said say my name.”

“Ugh Remmick Remmick.” You moan out his name over and over again until he was satisfied he then smirks”now tell me who this belongs to.” You cry out as the feeling was becoming too much to handle, it’s too much”ugh it’s yours I’m all yours I’ll forever be yours.”

Suddenly you start to feel that feeling again in your stomach as your walls start to tighten around his member, you start to feel him twitch inside of you he wasn’t that far behind you, suddenly you feel him pressing on your stomach which sends you over the edge making you cry out and release all over him making him groan. He then slams inside of you a couple more times before he finally releases his seed deep inside of you.

Your body now felt limp you were now vulnerable to whatever he was about to do next, he still lingers inside of you listening to your fast heartbeat he loves listening to that humming sound of your heart. He then lifts his head up and stares at you “damn yer making this really hard for me but I know I have to do it.” Before you could say anything you feel a sharp pain into your neck as your heart drops as he begins to suck on your neck now turning you.

And now you’ll always be his forever perfect girl.

[grapejuicestyless]

People Pleaser

Harry Styles x fem! bandmate reader

summery: Y/n gives too much and Harry is the only one to give back.

Angst(kinda) to fluff!

If you were to ask the public, ‘Who embodies love on tour?’ The majority, if not everybody would be quick to conclude it was Harry. He was the front man, it was his tour. A man who grows flowers with his voice and encourages affection between even the most different strangers.

If you asked the people involved, they would say Y/n Y/l/n.

Y/n is a woman with so much empathy she walked in others shoes more than her own. She spends her free time devoted to helping her friends and family. Constantly doting on them despite how grave the situation seemed.

So yeah, if you were to define HSLOT, it would be Y/n, Y/l/n. The pianist who sat quietly in the back of the stage, tucked away behind Sarah and Pauli, quiet as a mouse.

——————————————————————————

The sun was high, burning into the black chevron of the HSLOT Wembley stage floor. The white and black paint radiating vastly different temperatures in the June heat. The backtracks boomed through the stadium, muffling the farther backstage you got. Humidity suffocated everything in a sticky wetness.

Harry was dancing in a black bunny shirt, sleeves rolled to his shoulders and shorts shorter than my own. Today the sun was more brutal than ever and the effects were obvious. Skin was redder than before and water bottles could be found empty and scattered beneath the instruments. The HSLOT band was huddling under the small amount of shade they could find over the small overhang mounted on the stage. Lucky for me, because of how tucked away my space was, I had full access to the cool shade and the slight breeze of the AC blasting through the backstage area. Mitch, however, due to his front and center stationing, was falling victim to the peak heat of the day.

Harry hummed into the microphone, lazily speaking numbers out of order to get a laugh out of anyone, though the heat seemed to be getting to him too as he seemed out of his usual pre-show element. The only thing there seemed to be more abundance of than Harry’s pitiful jokes, was the sweat drenching each and every one of us.

“Y/n/n?” A soft voice called from just in front of me.

Mitch stood just in front of Pauli who was stuck half in the sun and half in the shade, his body squished into the darkness. His hair was matted with wet and held up tightly in a man bun, his shirt drenched in sweat more so than the rest of us.

“Eh, Im sorry to ask but would you mind if we could just switch positions for just a bit? I’m overheating over there and need a small break.” He pleaded.

Ever the people pleaser, the urge to stay in the shade was pushed down and away as my body moved quicker than my mind. I was eager to make Mitch happy, loving the satisfaction helping a friend out gave me.

He traded me a small hand held fan for my perfect shady spot. Though the plastic wings barely moved and the air barely soothed the heat, the thought was nice enough of him to suggest.

So I stood in the sun, the rays casting down on me like a blanket that could only be described as hell on earth. Sweat collected more aggressively on my forehead but the quick look over to Mitch, who had a lazy smile on his face from the shade and the inconsistent AC gusts made it a whole lot more worth it.

By now we were on Satellite, Harry mumbling the song, waltzing over to Elin to make sure she was still feeling okay. It was moments like this that I believed we were soulmates. Bonded together by the environment that seemed to tug us together like some sort of gravity. His straightforward kindness and appreciation one of his best qualities that I loved.

I let myself marinate in my own wetness, my legs heavy from the heat and my cheeks growing sore from the sun. My eyes grew heavy and the fan grew weaker and weaker. Truthfully, I was struggling.

“Y/n..?” I heard a small yell from Sarah, who I was sure was boiling surrounded by all that plastic and metal, despite the shade. She was still blocked off from the AC air, so the heat might as well have been just as bad.

I nodded to her, making my way over cautiously, the floor slippery with the dew from the humidity and the sweat dripping off our noses.

“What’s up, babe?” I smiled, leaning against the edge of the platform her drums were set on.

“I’m struggling a bit here. I’m a little trapped.” I raised an eyebrow, ready to take a seat to listen to what she had to say. I wondered if it was about the baby or if it was a mental block. I was ready to be a good friend when she needed it.

“Do you think I could borrow that fan? Just for a second? It’s like a hotbox in here.” My eyes drifted to the soft vibrations rumbling through my palm, the soft buzzing sound from the hand held fan spinning softly in all its neon green glory.

Forming my lips into a thin line, I nodded, plastering on a smile and reaching up to hand it to Sarah.

She was thankful for my generosity, flashing me a smile and holding up a weak thumbs up. I reflected her gesture, hunching my shoulders as I spun to return back to the spot I’d taken in the sun.

Just now, I began to realize how much I took that tan for granted. Even the soft wind was able to move the still air that casted over the UK today.

My heavy feet turned into cinder blocks and my eyes became unbearably heavy. I seemed sway on my feet a little, every blink becoming stickier as my eyelashes bunched together more and more. It felt like hours going by. Realistically it had only been five minutes, but everything moved in slow motion now.

I think Harry was singing Matilda now, but it seemed to be silenced by the clogging of my ears. I felt faint suddenly, my body too heavy to hold up. I felt myself stumble. It was usually now I would focus all my attention in on his beautiful melody, but my ears seemed to reject any sound whatsoever other than shouts and belly laughter across the stage.

“Hey Y/n!” I heard loud and clear, the bubbly voice belonging to none other than my best friend. The man who I’d been stuck with since his very first show and the person in my mind that hung the stars and moon single handedly in my life. The closest thing I had to a home on tour, Harry.

I’m not sure if I was able to lift my lips into a smile or not, everything blurring together in a mushy mess. It was like I was on psychedelics while being totally sober.

Trying to remain polite, I tried to be more welcoming to him, reaching up to wave only to find myself stumbling back into the elevated stage platforms, hands slamming into the wood so hard the corners caused red lines to form, blood peaking in blots on my skin.

“Y/n!” He sounded more frantic now, not as light and airy like before. The sound of a microphone falling to the ground was ear piercing, if I could cover my ears I would. His feet sounded heavy, the sound echoing through the empty area like bricks. My elbows collapsed under the pressure of my body and my knees buckled.

I waited for the ground to come, braced for it even. Ready to bruise my face and bleed from the nose. But it never came. Instead I was wrapped in a wet body, my face smushing against a hard chest.

“Shit, can I get some medical help?” Harry. Harry had caught me. How quick he was to rush in to help.

I couldn’t quite make out his face with how jumbled up my brain was from the heatstroke I was almost sure my body was going through right now, all I saw was black dots and blurry pink lips moving quickly. I think he mumbled, “You’re okay, it’s fine.” But maybe that was an illusion I made up for some sort of comfort.

We met eyes, a worried shock painted on Harry’s face before I was met with the soothing darkness of sleep.

——————————————————————————

I woke up to a cooler climate. A buzzing sounding through the vent on the ceiling. Tassels of pink and yellow blowing in the wind. I had an ice pack taped to my forehead and one wrapped around my stomach with velcro.

My head was pounding with one of the worst headaches I’d ever dealt with in my entire life and my eyes were aggressively watering despite my excessive wiping.

I tried to sit up, but could only groan with how sore I was, my hand pressing against the ice pack quickly.

“Y/n, oh thank god.” I felt the couch dip by my head, Harry’s body kneeling on the ground in front of my face and his head hovering over mine as he hunched over me. The carpet ruffled beneath his knees as he settled into place. His breathing was slightly jagged, a little quick. Maybe in his panic it had picked up. Compared to mine, which was slow and steady. A good long sleep will do that to you.

“Did I faint?” My mouth was dry, so everything that came out of my mouth was strained and rough. Sandpaper scratching my vocal cords.

The question was obvious, I knew I had gone down before I even fell. I knew I was going down as soon as I handed away the shady spot and the fan. Maybe not directly, but that small tugging feeling that fought briefly with my body knew. I couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace my lips, trying to be funny and light hearted in a time of need.

“Gave everyone a proper scare, really did. Went down pretty fast.” He lifted an arm from his sides to gently move the ice pack from my forehead, sensing the slight discomfort it was giving me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. We watched each other quietly in the quiet of the communal dressing room.

His smile was infectious, always was. Harry had that kind of bunny tooth smile that made my stomach do secret summersaults and flutter occasionally. Despite the strict platonic relationship we’d established, it was hard to not fall for the other half who understood the urge to put others before myself just as well.

Lost in the dreamy thought of him, I snapped back to see the white smile slowly wipe off his face, eyebrows pulling together in worry and his gaze becoming less lighthearted and more serious.

“Was it dramatic? Could I win an Oscar for it?” I joked, lightening up the mood, or attempting to.

“Yes, and yes. Would’ve swept them, I think.” We laughed weakly, not finding the situation funny but the inability to stay so serious for so long amusing.

“We shouldn’t have had soundcheck outside. I knew it was too hot out, I’m sorry.” The warm bareness of his fingers engulfed mine gently, his thumb brushing my knuckles so light it almost barely ghosted over my skin.

“It’s not your fault, I made a couple bad choices that got me there.”

“Such a pushover.” I snorted, removing my hand from his in fake offense to his comment, though it was both true and not in any sense mean or bad intentioned.

“And to think, I had the perfect AC spot in the shade too!” We continued to joke, not finding anything about this at all serious. We probably seemed fucked in the head to the outside perspective. Who treats heat stroke like it meant nothing?

“I need to learn how to say no.” Harry silently agreed, eyes flicking up to mine slowly, almost like he was tracing my body in an outline in his head. Saving a mental photo of his best friend covered in sweat, melted ice and plastic icepacks.

“You do.” I smiled.

“I know.” He raised a brow.

“You do. Can’t have that happening. Scared me.” His sudden confession lacked any previous lightheartedness that we’d bounced off of each other just moments before.

I grabbed his hand again, now my thumb was the one to merely ghost over his skin smoothly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Don’t wanna worry you.” It was the most sincere thing I’d said all day. The only thing I’d truly meant really. All those “My pleasures” and, “Of courses” only being half hearted and made based solely on the idea that someone else could benefit from it more than I would.

“I love you.” Silence hugged the room around his confession. Not that we hadn’t exchanged the sentence consistently. Throwing it around so much it was a habit to tell each other before we left any room or made a joke so good it deserved the praise. But somehow, the words sat different than before. They held more seriousness and more honesty than the other times, and I couldn’t help the giddiness it gave me.

“I love you too.” Maybe if the situation wasn’t so dramatic and the heat wasn’t getting to both of us incredibly bad, maybe then it wouldn’t have happened. Some sort of forced confession out of the blue.

He showed no signs of having any interests in me. Other than the constant presence he seemed to enjoy having in my life and the fact that nobody knew me like him, he could have fooled me completely.

“Yeah?” He laughed through his teeth, breathy and light.

I nodded slowly, sure of myself but shy on the idea he could be playing with me. He would walk me to the door of hope and send me home crying. Maybe it was the feeling of giving so much and never getting anything back. Maybe it was the all too familiar feeling of being used because of the overflowing empathy I was dealt at birth and the nagging persistence in my mind ordering me to please the people around me that was responsible for the twinge of doubt I held to him. But his eyes held kindness and full trust, I couldn’t help but feel that fluttery feeling.

It could have been from the heat, but most likely from him rushing the blood from my heart straight to my cheeks.

“I hope you mean it in the way I think you mean it, because if this is the heat stroke playing with my feelings, I’m about to look really stupid.” My arms outstretched around his neck, pulling him to my lips. My fingers tangling between his puffy curls and damp with the sweat beaded on the back of his tanned neck.

His kiss was just as sweet as I expected it. It wasn’t an intricate make out with a long battle between our tongues. It was needy, but not in a rushed way. It was short, but did more than any sloppy kiss could possibly say.

“Is now a good time to say I only see you as a friend?” I couldn’t help but silently laugh at that. My chest moving up and down while my mouth was pulled into a large smile that broke out on my face.

Harry was still so close, yet to pull back completely as his breath fanned my nose and his forehead almost touched mine.

“Now that I’ve wooed you, does this mean you’ll let me play tonight?” His lips silenced mine, pressing hard and smooth against each other. He pulled away with a wet release.

“No.” For the millionth time, we laughed. We laughed, feeling happy. Content that I was okay, that this was okay. That we were whatever we were. Maybe we had crossed the line between strictly platonic. Maybe we were towing the line between lovers and best friends. But it didn’t matter because whatever we had was warmer than the June heat and bigger than any crowd Wembley could pull in our hearts.

It was all some sappy story of the girl who gave too much and the only man who gave back, very on brand for the HSLOT crew.

Maybe heat strokes could be good.

Read part 2 here!

[sebstanaddict]

Open Road

Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader Story

A/N: I've been wanting to write a motorcycle road trip one shot with Bucky and finally had time to write it :)

Summary: Bucky and reader are Avengers who are friends. But throughout this 4-day road trip their feelings to each other gradually changes into something more ;)

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Warning: Just pure fluff and some sexual reference, nothing vulgar

Word count : 9.3k words

Read more Bucky one shots here

---

Open Road

---

The Avengers Tower, New York

—

The Avengers were finally on a break—no missions, no emergencies, and no meetings. Y/n was scrolling through travel spots on her tablet in the Avengers lounge, wondering if she'd ever get a chance to take one of these scenic trips. That's when Bucky Barnes strolled in, quietly dropping his duffle bag by the couch. He'd just returned from his own solo mission, and he looked... restless. His face softened when he spotted Y/n, though.

"Hey," she greeted him, sliding over to make room.

He raised a brow. "Looking at more trips you'll never take?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Thanks for the optimism, Barnes. But yeah, I was thinking... What about a road trip? New York is great, but sometimes we need a little open road, you know?"

He nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, that sounds kinda perfect. I haven't had a good ride in ages."

Y/n blinked, surprised. "Wait—you mean, like, now?"

"Why not?" Bucky shrugged, crossing his arms. "Think you can handle the open road with me?"

"You're on, soldier. But I need some time to prepare. How about tomorrow morning?" She asked, feeling excited at the opportunity of finally having a vacation.

"Sure. We'll leave first thing in the morning." Bucky smiled and she couldn't help but smile back.

—

Day 1

The early morning sun glinted off the buildings as Y/n jogged down The Avengers Tower's steps, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder and her heart pounding with excitement. She spotted Bucky by his sleek black motorcycle, leaning against it, looking effortlessly cool in a leather jacket and dark jeans. Her own jacket felt suddenly inadequate.

He glanced up as she approached, his mouth quirking into a smirk. "You ready?"

Y/n tightened her grip on her bag. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He handed her a helmet. "You ever ridden on a bike before?"

She bit her lip, looking at the helmet. "Only once... and it was nowhere near as fast as what you probably have planned."

Bucky's grin widened, and he tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you." He paused, watching her put the helmet on. "But you might want to hold on tight."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt her cheeks warm as she pulled on the helmet, carefully adjusting it. He climbed onto the bike first and then gave her a small nod, gesturing for her to get on behind him. She slid onto the seat, her hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure of where exactly to place them.

"Hey," he said, his voice muffled slightly through her helmet. He glanced over his shoulder with an amused glint in his eyes. "It's alright, Y/n. You can hold onto me."

She cleared her throat, muttering, "Yeah, right. Sure." Gingerly, she wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to ignore how solid he felt beneath the leather jacket. The position felt more intimate than she'd expected, and she could feel her pulse quickening.

"Comfortable?" he asked, the humor in his voice barely concealed.

She shifted slightly, adjusting her grip. "Yep. Just... don't go too fast."

He chuckled softly, and she felt the vibrations through her chest. "Scout's honor."

The engine roared to life beneath them, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in her ears. Before she could fully prepare herself, Bucky shifted gears and they were off, merging into the early morning traffic as the buildings of New York sped by. She tightened her hold reflexively as the wind whipped around them, her heart racing as they accelerated down the open road.

After a few minutes, she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the ride. The steady vibration of the engine, the warmth of the sun, the wind on her body, and the feeling of Bucky's steady presence in front of her created a strange, unexpected comfort. She leaned into him a little more, her cheek brushing his back, and closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself get lost in the sensation.

He noticed, of course. "Comfortable back there?"

She jolted, her cheeks flushing beneath the helmet as she quickly straightened. "Yeah, yeah. Just... taking it all in."

"Uh-huh," he said, sounding amused. "You can hang on as tight as you need to. It's a long ride."

"Thanks, but I'm good." She cleared her throat, hoping he didn't notice the slight squeeze of her arms around his waist.

They rode for a few hours, weaving between small towns and countryside as they headed toward Connecticut. The air was fresh and cool, and the scenery gradually changed from busy streets to rolling green hills, interspersed with open fields and clusters of trees. Y/n occasionally lifted her helmet visor, breathing in the smell of wildflowers and fresh grass. She hadn't felt this free in a long time.

They stopped just before noon at a gas station, and Bucky swung off the bike, stretching his arms as she slowly dismounted.

"Hungry?" he asked, glancing toward a small diner across the street.

"Starving," she admitted, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her legs wobble too noticeably. She'd underestimated the exhaustion of riding on a motorcycle, and it showed in the slight ache in her thighs.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking. "First ride soreness?"

She groaned, stretching her legs. "Don't get all smug on me, Barnes. I'll get the hang of it."

"Didn't say a thing." He shrugged, still grinning. "Come on. Let's get some food."

The diner was small and cozy, filled with retro decor and the comforting smell of coffee and bacon. They slid into a booth, and Y/n couldn't help but notice the way people kept glancing at them. It wasn't every day they saw a pair of Avengers walk into their local diner.

The waitress came over, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile. "What'll it be, folks?"

Bucky gave her one of his rare, soft smiles. "Two coffees, please. And whatever your breakfast special is."

The woman chuckled. "You got it, hon." She gave Y/n a knowing look before heading to the kitchen.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning across the table. "Think she recognized you?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Or maybe it's the metal arm."

They shared a laugh, and Y/n leaned back, feeling her shoulders loosen. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed around him. He had always been a little guarded, a quiet shadow in the Avengers, but here, outside the chaos of the city and missions, he felt different. Lighter.

When the waitress returned with their food, Bucky dug in eagerly, making Y/n laugh as he polished off the huge plate with ease.

"Guess you really were hungry," she teased.

"What can I say?" He shrugged, his grin a little sheepish. "Super soldier metabolism."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, savoring the food and the stillness of the diner. Then, as he finished his coffee, Bucky's gaze softened.

"Did you enjoy the ride so far?"

She nodded, her fingers playing with her napkin. "Actually... yeah. I didn't think I'd feel so comfortable on a bike."

"Good." He tilted his head, watching her thoughtfully. "I was worried you might not like it."

She looked up, catching the sincerity in his expression, and felt a warmth spread in her chest. "I think I like it because it's with you."

He blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a grin. "Careful, Y/n. I might start thinking you actually like spending time with me."

She rolled her eyes, taking the last sip of her coffee. "Don't let it go to your head."

When they finally got back on the bike, Y/n found herself settling against him a little easier, holding on a little tighter without feeling the need to pretend otherwise. And when they hit the highway again, she leaned her cheek against his back, allowing herself to enjoy the steady warmth of his presence.

She knew he could feel her holding him a little closer, and he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he occasionally turned his head slightly, almost as if checking in on her, and each time she'd nod reassuringly, her hand giving his waist a light squeeze.

By the time they reached their next stop, a scenic overlook near a lake, Y/n felt at ease on the bike and with Bucky. They climbed off and stood by the edge of the road, looking out over the still, glimmering water below.

"This... this is beautiful," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the sunlight dancing on the lake's surface.

Bucky watched her for a moment before replying. "Yeah. It is."

He said it so softly, so full of meaning, that when she looked up, she found him gazing at her instead of the view. Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed a playful smirk.

"What, you never seen a lake before?"

His lips twitched into a smile. "Not one that looked this good."

They shared a quiet laugh, and as the sun began to dip lower, they found themselves standing just a little closer. Neither of them said anything about it, but as they continued on their journey, there was an unspoken understanding between them. The road stretched ahead, and for the first time, Y/n felt that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

—

After a long day on the road filled with laughter and stunning views, Y/n and Bucky finally pulled into the parking lot of a quaint motel nestled in a quiet town. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue over everything, and Y/n felt a surge of excitement as she swung her leg off the motorcycle.

"Here we are! Home sweet home for the night," she announced, grinning as she adjusted her helmet.

Bucky chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Not too shabby, considering it's a road trip."

As they entered the small, rustic lobby, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. An elderly woman behind the counter greeted them with a warm smile.

"Welcome! How can I help you today?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"We'd like to check in for two rooms, please," Bucky replied, a charming smile on his face.

The woman typed something into the computer, her brow furrowing. "I'm so sorry, but it looks like we only have one room available tonight. Would you like to take that?"

Y/n and Bucky exchanged quick glances, both of them caught off guard. "One room?" Y/n asked, her voice slightly higher than usual. "Uh, I mean, that's fine... right?"

Bucky shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What's the worst that could happen? It'll be fun."

"Right, fun!" Y/n replied, forcing a laugh as they followed the woman down a narrow hallway. She felt her heart race with a mix of nerves and anticipation. "Just a little close quarters, that's all."

The woman handed them the key to their room, and they stepped inside. The space was cozy, with two single beds, a small desk, a window overlooking the parking lot and surprisingly a small terrace with a beautiful view. It was perfect for a couple of friends on a road trip, but Y/n couldn't shake the awareness of how close they would be that night.

Bucky set his bag on the bed closest to the window and surveyed the room. "I'll take this one if you don't mind," he said casually, his tone light. "You can have the other."

"Sounds good," Y/n replied, trying to sound casual, but her heart was racing. They had always been friends, but sharing a room felt different—more intimate.

As the evening wore on, they unpacked their things and decided to order pizza for dinner. The laughter flowed easily as they reminisced about their earlier adventures on the road, but as night fell, Y/n felt a strange tension hanging in the air. After a quick dinner, Bucky flopped onto his bed, stretching out comfortably.

"You know, I didn't think I'd ever end up sharing a room with you," he said, his tone teasing. "Guess we're getting closer after all."

"Very funny," she shot back, playfully rolling her eyes. "Just don't snore."

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. "No promises."

As the lights dimmed and they settled in for the night, Y/n lay wide awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Bucky shifting on his bed across the room, the quiet rustle of sheets filling the silence. The proximity felt both comforting and nerve-wracking; she could almost sense his presence, and it sent her heart racing.

"Hey, are you awake?" Bucky's voice broke the stillness, low and slightly hesitant.

"Yeah," Y/n replied, trying to sound casual but failing. "Just thinking."

"Me too," he admitted. "It's kind of weird, right? Sharing a room after all this time?"

"Definitely weird," she chuckled softly. "But... I guess it's nice in a way?"

"It is," he agreed, his voice dropping a notch. "I like being close to you, even if it feels a little strange."

Y/n's heart swelled at his words, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I feel the same way," she confessed. "I didn't expect it to be this... awkward, though."

Bucky chuckled lightly, the sound soothing in the dim room. "Guess we'll just have to get used to it."

After a few more moments of silence, Y/n turned to her side, stealing glances at him. She could barely make out his silhouette against the moonlight streaming in through the window. "Bucky?"

"Yeah?" he responded, turning toward her.

"Thanks for being here," she said softly. "It feels nice, you know? Having you around."

His smile was almost palpable in the darkness. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Feeling a rush of courage, she added, "I'm glad we're doing this trip together. It's been... well, more than I ever expected."

"Same here," he replied, his voice steady and warm. "I'm really enjoying this time with you."

Y/n let out a small sigh, feeling her body slowly relax. Perhaps it was the comfort of Bucky's words or the way he made her feel safe, but as the minutes passed, she found herself sinking into the soft mattress, a sense of ease washing over her.

Eventually, the gentle rhythm of Bucky's breathing began to lull her into a sense of calm, and she finally closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off to sleep, feeling grateful for the unexpected closeness they were beginning to share.

—

Day 2

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of the motel room, casting a soft glow over Y/n as she stirred awake. She stretched, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin, and smiled at the memory of the previous day's adventures. Bucky had already risen, his bed neatly made, and he was leaning against the wall by the window, sipping coffee from a travel mug.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said, a playful grin on his face. "I almost thought you were going to sleep all day."

Y/n yawned and sat up, raking her fingers through her hair. "You know I needed my beauty sleep after all that awkwardness last night."

Bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Awkward? I thought it was charming. A bonding experience."

"Sure, if you like bonding over being too close for comfort," she replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Next time, we're definitely getting separate rooms."

"Actually," Bucky said as he placed his mug down, "I was thinking, what if we save some money and just share a room again? You know, for the road trip vibe."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, feigning annoyance. "Are you trying to squeeze every penny out of me, Barnes?"

He shrugged, his playful grin widening. "Maybe I am. But it might actually be more fun this way. We could, you know, have a late-night snack and watch terrible TV together."

"Fine," she relented, rolling her eyes, though a smile crept onto her face. "But if I end up regretting this, I'm charging you double for snacks."

Bucky chuckled and handed her a breakfast sandwich he'd already picked up from a nearby diner. "Guess that's fair. Eat up; we're hitting the road soon."

They sat on chairs on the terrace outside their room, eating their breakfast in comfortable silence while watching the early morning light stretch over the landscape. The scenery was breathtaking—the motel sat on a high overlook with a panoramic view of a lush valley stretching below, framed by a lake that sparkled under the rising sun.

"So," Y/n said between bites, glancing at him, "where to next, fearless leader?"

"There's a scenic route through the countryside I thought we could take. Might add a little time, but it's worth it," he said, nodding toward a winding road that led into a dense forest. "It'll be quiet, mostly local traffic, but the views are incredible."

Y/n grinned, finishing the last of her sandwich. "You had me at 'quiet.' Lead the way."

They climbed onto the motorcycle, and Y/n, more at ease than yesterday, wrapped her arms around him a little more naturally, her fingers finding their place against his chest as they pulled onto the road. The bike hummed to life, and they set off, speeding away from the small town and into the rolling countryside.

The trees thickened as they moved further along the forested road, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled patterns on the winding path ahead. They passed small clearings, occasional creeks, and patches of wildflowers, the tranquility wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Y/n marveled at the beauty surrounding them and occasionally lifted her visor to let the fresh forest air brush her face.

After about an hour, they approached a fork in the road, where Bucky slowed down and nodded toward a small dirt path leading off to the right. "Detour?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n grinned. "You sure know how to keep things interesting. Lead on, Sergeant."

As they veered down the path, the road became bumpy, and Y/n tightened her grip on Bucky, laughing as they dodged potholes and rocky patches. They were about halfway down the trail when they noticed a figure waving in the distance near an old, beat-up truck, smoke rising from its hood.

Bucky slowed, pulling up beside the stranded vehicle. A man, maybe in his fifties, with a grease-stained shirt and a thick, graying beard, walked over, wiping his hands on a rag and looking both relieved and a little wary.

"Morning, folks," the man greeted with a nod, looking between Bucky and Y/n. "Didn't expect to see anyone out here. Thought I was in for a long walk to the nearest town."

Bucky tilted his head, assessing the situation. "Engine trouble?"

The man nodded, scratching his head. "Yeah, overheated, I think. Guess it finally kicked the bucket on me. If I'd known, I wouldn't have taken her down this old road."

Y/n dismounted the bike and walked over, offering him a friendly smile. "Do you need a hand? We can call a tow if it comes to that."

The man's face brightened. "If you're willing, that'd be mighty kind. My name's Hal, by the way."

"Y/n," she said, shaking his hand. She gestured to Bucky. "And this is my friend, Bucky."

They moved to examine the truck together, and Y/n was impressed by Bucky's casual expertise as he took a closer look under the hood. They exchanged theories, with Y/n pointing out the corroded radiator while Bucky inspected the hoses.

Hal sighed, watching them work. "Looks like she's seen her last days, doesn't it? My grandpa handed down this truck, so it's a tough one to let go of."

Bucky closed the hood and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Afraid so. You mentioned the nearest town—how far's the walk?"

"About eight miles," Hal replied, glancing down the deserted path. "Wouldn't want to impose, but if you could give me a ride, I'd be grateful. I can wait till you're done with your ride, though."

Y/n exchanged a quick look with Bucky. "Why don't we just take you now? We've got plenty of time."

The three of them shared a laugh as Hal climbed onto the back of the bike, trying to steady himself. Y/n smothered a laugh as he wobbled slightly, gripping the sides a little too tightly.

"First time on a motorcycle?" Bucky asked, barely concealing a smirk.

Hal chuckled nervously. "First time on one that wasn't in a movie, that's for sure."

As they set off, Y/n felt herself leaning into Bucky again, and despite the extra passenger, the ride felt oddly balanced. The morning sun peeked through the forest as they sped down the winding path, and Y/n couldn't help but laugh as Hal let out a surprised shout when they hit a bump.

After a few miles, they reached a quaint town nestled by a lake, with small cottages dotting the water's edge. Bucky pulled up in front of a mechanic's shop, and Hal clambered off the bike, looking more than a little relieved.

"Thank you, really," he said, beaming at them. "I owe you one. If you're ever in the area again, you're welcome to drop by my place for a home-cooked meal. Least I can offer."

Y/n smiled, touched by the sincerity in his voice. "It was no trouble at all. And we'll take you up on that offer sometime."

Bucky gave Hal a nod, his blue eyes warm. "Glad we could help, Hal. Take care."

They waved goodbye, and as they rode away from the town, Y/n found herself smiling. The detour had added a touch of adventure to the day, and she couldn't shake the strange satisfaction of helping someone on the road, of feeling like they were on their own, free to roam wherever the day took them.

The forest opened up as they moved further down the road, revealing expansive fields lined with fences and wildflowers dotting the green expanse. Y/n relaxed back against Bucky, resting her head lightly on his shoulder, letting herself get lost in the open, endless beauty around them.

After a while, Bucky slowed down, glancing over his shoulder. "You good back there?"

"More than good," she replied, feeling her heart flutter at the way he'd become so attuned to her comfort. "Could ride like this all day."

He laughed softly, the sound warm and comforting. "Thought you'd say that. I'll keep going easy on you, though. No need to exhaust you before tomorrow."

"Is that concern I hear?" she teased, nudging him lightly. "That super-soldier heart of yours is showing, Bucky."

He shrugged, his voice low and soft. "Maybe I just like having you around, Y/n."

She was glad he couldn't see her smile widen beneath her helmet. As they continued along the road, a comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that only two people who truly enjoyed each other's presence could share. And with the countryside stretching ahead, Y/n realized that for the first time in a long time, she felt completely at peace.

—

After a few more hours on the road they made their way to the next motel, which was a bit more rustic but had its own charm. The scent of pine wafted in from the nearby woods, and Y/n felt the thrill of the road calling to her once more.

When they entered the new motel lobby, the clerk greeted them with a friendly smile. "Welcome! Two rooms?" he asked, glancing between them.

Bucky shot Y/n a sideways glance, his eyebrow raised in playful challenge. "Actually, just one room, please."

"Bucky!" Y/n exclaimed, her cheeks flushing slightly at the thought.

"What? It'll be fine!" he insisted, his voice teasing. "I promise I won't snore this time."

Y/n bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Alright, but if you steal the covers, I'm throwing you out."

"Deal!" he laughed, and they exchanged amused looks as they checked in.

Entering their new room, they were met with a cozy ambiance—two single beds adorned with fluffy comforters separated by a small nightstand, a small kitchenette area, and a view of the forest outside. The intimacy of the space made her heart race a little, but she felt a strange sense of ease that hadn't been there the previous night.

"This is nice," Y/n said, setting her bag on the counter. "I could get used to this view."

"Yeah, it's pretty chill," Bucky agreed, unpacking his things. He turned to her with a mischievous grin. "So, you ready for another night of bonding?"

She chuckled, leaning against the wall. "I guess I can tolerate you for one more night. Just try not to hog the bathroom this time, alright?"

"I make no promises," he shot back, feigning innocence. "What if I need to groom my fabulous hair?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to suppress her laughter. "Your 'fabulous hair' is just fine. No need for extra pampering, soldier."

As they settled into their evening routine, Y/n felt the awkwardness of the night before dissipate. They laughed together as they flipped through channels on the small TV, debating the merits of cheesy late-night movies.

"Okay, this is a classic," Bucky declared, pointing at a familiar title. "We have to watch this."

"Only if you promise not to criticize my taste in movies," Y/n teased.

"Deal," he replied, leaning back against the headboard.

As the movie played, Y/n found herself glancing at him more frequently. Bucky was focused on the screen, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement at the ridiculousness of the plot. She felt a warmth spreading through her, more comfortable with the closeness than she'd ever expected.

After the movie ended, they both stretched and stifled yawns. "Okay, I think it's time for bed," Y/n said, a little shyly.

"Yeah, definitely," Bucky agreed, but he paused, looking at her seriously for a moment. "Hey, thanks for being so cool about all this. I really like hanging out with you like this."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at his sincerity. "I like it too, Bucky. It's nice to just be... us."

With the room dimmed, they settled into their beds, the soft hum of the forest outside lulling them into a calm state. This time, there was no awkwardness as they bid each other goodnight, the familiarity of their friendship wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

"Goodnight, Y/n," Bucky called softly, his voice rich with comfort.

"Goodnight, Bucky," she replied, her heart racing, knowing that she felt a little more than friendship blooming between them.

As she lay back against the pillow, Y/n couldn't help but smile to herself. The sound of Bucky's steady breathing soon filled the room, and with the peace of their growing bond, she finally drifted off to sleep, feeling more at ease than she had the night before.

—

Day 3

Y/n awoke to the soft sound of birds chirping outside their motel room. She stretched and yawned, the sunlight filtering through the thin curtains casting warm rays over the room. Glancing over, she saw Bucky still fast asleep, his arm draped across the pillow. A smile crept across her face as she remembered the events of the previous day—the adventures, the laughter, and their growing camaraderie.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and headed to the small bathroom to freshen up. After a quick shower, she donned her favorite pair of jeans and a soft tank top, feeling comfortable and ready for another day on the road. She walked back into the room and spotted Bucky stirring, his eyes blinking open as he caught sight of her.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

"Morning," she replied, feigning indifference as she smoothed her hair. "You looked cute while you were sleeping, by the way."

Bucky chuckled, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. "Cute? Is that the best you can do? I was going for ruggedly handsome."

"Oh, you're definitely rugged," she teased, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Especially with that bedhead."

He shot her a mock glare, tousling his hair even more. "I was trying to impress you, you know. Guess I'll have to step up my game."

"Good luck with that," Y/n shot back and he chuckled. "But first, breakfast?"

"Yeah, let me freshen up and we can go." He said as he made his way to the bathroom.

After he was done they stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the sun shining down brightly as they mounted the motorcycle. Y/n's heart raced with excitement as she secured herself behind Bucky, wrapping her arms around his waist. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

As they rode through the quiet streets, she found herself leaning closer, her chin resting against his shoulder. The familiarity was intoxicating, and with every mile, the playful banter flowed more easily between them.

"So, what's on the agenda today, Captain?" she asked, trying to sound casual while feeling a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

Bucky chuckled. "Well, I figured we could hit the coast. Maybe drive along the shoreline. I know a great little beach town with some awesome seafood."

"Sounds perfect!" she exclaimed. "And if you're lucky, maybe I'll let you take me for a swim."

Bucky glanced back at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm definitely lucky then. Just remember, I'm a great swimmer. If you start to sink, I'll rescue you. No worries."

She laughed, swatting at his arm playfully. "Please, I can hold my own! But you know, I wouldn't mind seeing you in a bathing suit."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking as he shifted gears. "Now we're getting somewhere. I'll make sure to pack my best one."

They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the wind whipping through their hair, the smell of the ocean beginning to waft in the air as they approached the coast. Eventually, they pulled into a small seaside diner, the bright blue and white exterior reminiscent of a beach shack.

"This place is known for their lobster rolls," Bucky said, pulling off his helmet and shaking his hair out. "You ready to dive in?"

Y/n grinned, dismounting the bike and playfully nudging him with her shoulder. "As long as you promise not to steal mine."

"Steal yours? Never!" he feigned offense, crossing his arms dramatically. "I'm a gentleman, after all."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes as they entered the diner. They settled into a booth by the window, and the waitress greeted them with a friendly smile.

"Morning, folks! What can I get you today?" she asked, her notepad ready.

"Two lobster rolls, please," Bucky ordered, flashing her a charming smile.

"Coming right up!" the waitress replied, glancing at Y/n with an approving nod before walking away.

Y/n leaned in closer to Bucky, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You sure know how to charm the ladies, don't you?"

He shrugged, a teasing grin on his face. "Can you blame them? It's not every day they see a guy like me on a motorcycle."

"Oh, please. It's just the motorcycle," she said with a smirk. "Without it, you're just a brooding super soldier."

"Brooding? I prefer the term 'mysterious,' thank you very much." He leaned back, crossing his arms and pretending to ponder. "Besides, I've got a few moves to show you later."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yeah, you'll see." His expression turned playful as he leaned forward. "But don't get too comfortable. I might have to sweep you off your feet."

"Ha! Good luck with that, soldier." She leaned back, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. "You'll have to do better than that."

Their food arrived, and as they dug into the delicious lobster rolls, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and playful jabs. They enjoyed every bite, and Bucky watched her with an appreciative grin as she savored the flavors.

"Okay, you win. These are amazing," she admitted, wiping a bit of sauce from her chin. "But I still have my eyes on that beach. You owe me a swim!"

Bucky leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I think I can manage that. Just don't drown on me."

"Don't worry," she retorted, shooting him a smirk. "If anything, you'll be the one getting saved."

After they finished their meal, they wandered outside, the sun shining down warmly on the beach town. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, and Y/n felt a rush of excitement.

"Race you to the beach!" she shouted, taking off down the sandy path.

"Hey, wait!" Bucky called, laughing as he sprinted after her.

She reached the shore first, spinning around to face him, her heart racing from both the run and the thrill of the moment. The ocean glimmered in front of them, a beautiful expanse of blue stretching into the horizon.

"You made it," he panted, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. "But I wasn't going all out!"

Y/n laughed, feeling victorious. "Yeah, right! Admit it, I'm faster than you."

"Fine, you're faster," he conceded, straightening up and flashing her a wide grin. "But I've got other skills."

"Like what? Brooding?" she teased, moving closer to the water's edge, where the waves lapped at her feet.

Bucky took a step toward her, his expression serious for a moment. "Like this." He splashed a handful of water at her, grinning as she squealed in surprise.

"Hey! Not cool!" she laughed, splashing back at him, and they both broke into a full-blown water fight, the laughter echoing around them.

As the sun climbed higher, they gradually wore themselves out and stood in the shallow water, their chests heaving from laughter and exertion. Bucky looked down at her, his expression softening. "You know, I'm really glad we decided to do this."

"Me too," Y/n replied, feeling a warmth spread in her chest. "This has been incredible."

Bucky stepped closer, the playful atmosphere shifting into something deeper. "You know, Y/n, you really are something special."

She felt her cheeks warm, unable to hold his gaze. "So are you, Bucky. I mean, I've always admired you, but seeing you like this... it's nice."

He smiled, the tension lingering between them as the waves crashed gently in the background. "I mean it. It's easy to forget what life is like outside of all the chaos we deal with."

"Yeah," she said softly, stepping a little closer, her heart racing. "It's nice to just... be ourselves."

Bucky's gaze locked onto hers, his voice dropping low. "We should do this more often."

"Agreed," Y/n replied, feeling a thrill run through her. "Just you, me, and the open road."

They stood there for a moment longer, the sun warming their skin, the ocean breeze swirling around them, both uncertain yet hopeful about what lay ahead. The shift in their relationship felt palpable, and as they exchanged glances, Y/n knew that this adventure was only just beginning.

—

After a long day of exploring the coast and laughter, they finally arrived at the next motel—a quaint little place that looked like it had been around for decades. The exterior was charming, adorned with colorful flower boxes under each window, but as they stepped inside, they were met with the receptionist's apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, but we're all booked up except for one room," the clerk said, glancing at her computer screen. "It's a queen bed, though."

Y/n exchanged a quick glance with Bucky, feeling her cheeks flush. "One bed? Are you sure that's the only option?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the clerk replied, looking genuinely sympathetic. "But it's a cozy room! I promise you'll enjoy your stay."

"Right, well," Bucky said, chuckling nervously, "I guess we'll take it."

As they made their way down the hall to their room, Y/n could feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "I can't believe we're sharing a room again," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "At this rate, I'm going to start thinking you like me or something."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Maybe I do. You're just so irresistible."

"Careful, Barnes. Flattery will get you nowhere," she shot back, unable to hide her smile.

They entered the room, and the sight of the queen bed dominated the small space. The comforter was a cheerful shade of blue, and the curtains billowed gently with the breeze from the open window.

"Well, here we are," Y/n said, trying to sound casual as she tossed her bag onto the bed. "Home sweet home for the night."

Bucky set his bag down as well, looking at the bed with a hint of uncertainty. "So, uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Rock-paper-scissors for who gets the edge?" she suggested playfully, but her heart raced at the thought of being so close to him.

"Not a bad idea," he said, his tone lighter than he felt.

After a few moments of hesitation, they both climbed onto the bed—Bucky taking the left side, Y/n on the right. The space felt much smaller than before, and they both shifted a bit, trying to find their spots while maintaining some distance.

As the evening wore on, they settled in, the room filled with the soft sounds of the TV and their quiet conversations. Bucky shared stories from his past, and Y/n found herself captivated, laughing and leaning closer as he animatedly recounted tales from his time as an Avenger.

"This is the best," Y/n said, her heart feeling warm as she listened to him. "Just you, me, and a ridiculous motel."

"Right? I wouldn't trade it for anything," Bucky replied, meeting her gaze.

When the time finally came to sleep, the reality of the small bed loomed over them. Y/n turned to her side, facing away from him, hoping that would help ease the nervousness.

"Goodnight, Y/n," Bucky said softly, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Goodnight, Bucky," she replied, feeling her heart race as she closed her eyes.

The minutes ticked by, and Y/n felt the quiet calm settle over the room. The earlier tension had melted away, and she could sense Bucky's presence beside her, warm and comforting.

Eventually, she shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. She barely noticed as she instinctively rolled over, seeking warmth. Before she knew it, she found herself nestled against Bucky's side, his arm draped protectively around her.

In his sleep, Bucky tightened his hold, pulling her closer. The warmth radiating from him enveloped her, and instead of feeling anxious, Y/n felt a rush of comfort wash over her.

—

Day 4

Hours passed, and as dawn broke, they both stirred, blinking sleepily against the soft light filtering through the window. Y/n felt disoriented for a moment until she realized their bodies were tangled together, limbs intertwined in a way that felt completely natural.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly, pulling back slightly, her cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean to—"

Bucky opened his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "I guess we got a little cozy last night."

"Just a bit," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I hope I didn't snore or anything."

"Not at all. You were surprisingly quiet," he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. "I actually enjoyed it."

As they both sat up, Bucky's hand brushed against hers, and the fleeting contact sent a spark of electricity between them. Y/n's heart raced again, and she looked up to meet his gaze, both of them aware of the newfound intimacy lingering in the morning light.

"Ready for another day?" Bucky asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Absolutely," Y/n replied, her nervousness from earlier slowly fading as they both chuckled, embracing the comfort of the day ahead, side by side.

"We've got a full day ahead!" she continued, her excitement bubbling over. "We're hitting the road to the next beach, remember?"

"Did you say beach? What's on the agenda?" Bucky asked, his eyes glimmered with excitement.

"Surfing lessons!" she declared, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I found a place that offers lessons for beginners. You, me, and some waves!"

"Surfing, huh? You think you can take me on?" Bucky smirked.

"Oh, I can definitely take you on!" she challenged, tossing a pillow at him. "Just try to keep up, old man."

"Old man?" he echoed, mock offense painting his features. "I'll have you know that I am a super soldier. I'm not old!"

"Sure, but I'm younger, so that gives me the edge," she shot back, laughing as she dashed to the door.

"Hey, no running away!" Bucky shouted, jumping out of bed and chasing after her.

Y/n burst into laughter as she darted out of the motel room, but she wasn't quick enough to evade his grasp. Bucky caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him as they both tumbled onto the grass outside. They lay there for a moment, breathless, looking up at the sky.

"Okay, okay, you win," Y/n laughed, her heart racing from the rush of adrenaline and closeness. "But you'd better treat me to some breakfast first."

Bucky propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her, his expression softening. "You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can manage that."

They spent the next hour devouring breakfast burritos at a nearby café, sharing stories and laughing over their meals. Bucky couldn't help but admire the way Y/n animatedly described her favorite surf movies, her hands gesturing as she spoke.

"Seriously, it's like you're born to surf," he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I can already picture you riding the waves like a pro."

Y/n smirked, leaning closer across the table. "What about you? I can picture you being the 'cool' instructor, wearing those ridiculous sun hats."

"Hey, those hats are a necessity!" he protested, pretending to look offended. "Besides, I think I'd rock it."

"Right," she laughed, sipping her coffee. "I can't wait to see that."

After breakfast, they mounted the motorcycle once more, excitement buzzing between them as they headed to the surf school. The coast was beautiful, the sun shining down on the sparkling waves as they pulled up to the beach.

As they dismounted, Y/n felt her pulse quicken. "This is it!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her feet. "We're going to have so much fun!"

Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair. "Just remember, if you wipe out, I'm right there to catch you."

"Oh, I'll be fine. Just try not to get too jealous when I'm riding the waves like a pro," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

They joined a group of beginners and were soon in the water, trying to balance on their surfboards. Bucky was surprisingly good at it, and Y/n found herself laughing and cheering him on as he managed to catch a few small waves.

"Look at you!" she called out, clapping as he hopped off his board, grinning ear to ear. "You're a natural!"

"Thanks! But don't get too comfortable. I'm coming for you next!" he yelled back, his playful determination evident.

Y/n took a deep breath and paddled out, trying to channel the enthusiasm she felt earlier. She managed to catch a wave, riding it for a moment before wiping out spectacularly.

"Y/n!" Bucky laughed, rushing over to help her back onto her board. "That was a bit of a tumble, huh?"

"Just getting my bearings!" she shot back, shaking off the water and grinning up at him. "Now, if I could just figure out how to stay on the board, I'll be golden."

"Just like that, huh?" he said, leaning in closer, their faces inches apart. "Want me to show you?"

Her heart raced as he held out his hand, and she took it, feeling a jolt of electricity pass between them. "Okay, teach me, oh wise one."

Bucky positioned himself behind her on the board, guiding her movements. "Just remember to shift your weight and keep your balance. I've got you."

As they paddled out together, she could feel his breath on her neck, and she leaned into him instinctively, trying to steady herself. "Like this?" she asked, trying to focus on his instructions but getting distracted by how good it felt to be so close.

"Exactly," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "You're doing great, Y/n."

After several attempts, Y/n finally managed to ride a wave, her exhilaration spilling over as she returned to the shore. Bucky was waiting for her, his eyes wide with pride. "You did it! I knew you could!"

"Only because you helped me," she said, catching her breath. "You're not half bad at this surfing thing."

"Just wait until I show you my secret moves," he said, flashing her a cheeky grin. "Then I'll really blow your mind."

They spent the rest of the afternoon laughing, splashing in the water, and taking turns riding the waves. As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue across the sky, they sat side by side on the beach, water lapping at their feet.

"I can't believe how much fun today was," Y/n said, looking out at the horizon. "Thank you for making this trip amazing."

"Honestly, I've enjoyed every minute," Bucky replied, his tone turning serious. He turned to her, his gaze intense. "You know, it's more than just the trip for me. Being with you like this... it feels right."

Y/n's heart raced at his words, a flutter of hope blossoming in her chest. "I feel the same way. I didn't expect to connect with you like this."

Bucky shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. "I've always admired you, Y/n. You're strong, funny, and just... you. I didn't want to admit it, but I've been falling for you."

"Really?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart pounding. "I thought I was the only one."

He nodded, his blue eyes searching hers. "It's true. I've felt something special between us ever since we started this trip. I just didn't know how to say it."

"I'm glad you did," she said softly, leaning in closer. "Because I've been feeling it too. You're amazing, Bucky. And I really like you."

The moment hung in the air, charged with emotion as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Bucky reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"Can I..." he began, his voice a low murmur, "kiss you?"

Y/n nodded, her heart racing as they leaned in, the world around them fading away. Their lips met softly, a spark igniting between them. It was tender yet filled with unspoken promise, the waves crashing behind them and the sunset painting the sky in vibrant colors.

As they pulled away, Bucky's forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "Wow," he said, a playful smirk returning. "I think I like this new adventure."

"Me too," Y/n replied, grinning as warmth flooded through her.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange, pink, and violet as the cool breeze ruffled their hair, and the sound of crashing waves filled the air, a perfect soundtrack to the moment.

They sat like that for a moment, enjoying the atmosphere and each other's presence. After a while she looked back up at him, the way he was looking at her making her stomach flip. "We should probably head to the motel before it gets too dark."

"Right, good idea," he said, his voice low and warm. They hopped back on the motorcycle, the lingering tension between them crackling as they rode. The ride felt different now, charged with new energy, the cool wind swirling around them almost romantic.

After a short drive, they arrived at another quaint motel, the neon sign flickering against the twilight sky. They parked the motorcycle and walked inside, the familiar scent of clean linens and faint air freshener welcoming them. As they approached the receptionist, Y/n couldn't shake the excitement bubbling in her chest.

"Just one room, please," Bucky said confidently, without a hint of hesitation.

"Sure thing! Here's your key," the receptionist replied with a knowing smile.

Y/n looked at Bucky, her heart racing again. "We're doing this again, huh?"

Bucky grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What can I say? I love living dangerously."

They made their way down the dimly lit hallway, and as they entered the room, the sight of the queen bed instantly reminded them of the last time they had shared a bed. The nervous tension was palpable again, but this time it felt different—more comfortable, like an unspoken agreement hung in the air.

"Well, here we are," Bucky said, his voice laced with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He tossed his bag onto the bed, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Want to arm wrestle for the edge?"

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "You're on. But I'm warning you—I've been practicing."

Bucky feigned shock. "Practicing? That's not fair!"

They sat across from each other, both pretending to be serious about their little contest, but the laughter and playful banter soon melted into something more tender. Y/n felt her heart thump in her chest as their hands clasped together, the warmth of his skin sending shivers up her arm.

"Okay, ready?" Bucky asked, his blue eyes locked onto hers, a playful challenge in his gaze.

"Ready," she replied, their muscles straining against each other. They both laughed as they pushed against one another, Bucky eventually letting her win with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine, you're stronger than you look," he admitted, chuckling. "But don't think that means you can take my side of the bed!"

"Oh, please," she said, playfully nudging him. "I'll take whatever side I want."

As they settled into the bed, both of them were still a bit shy, a comfortable silence falling between them. Y/n lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of the kiss, the warmth of Bucky's body next to hers.

"Y/n?" Bucky said softly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" she replied, turning to face him, her heart fluttering.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she said, her curiosity piqued.

"Do you... do you think we're moving too fast?" he asked, looking a bit uncertain.

Y/n took a moment to consider his question, her heart racing. "I don't think so. I mean, this trip has brought us closer in ways I never expected. It feels... right."

Bucky's expression softened, and he nodded slowly. "I feel it too. I just didn't want to ruin anything between us by rushing into things."

"Bucky," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, "it's okay to take things slow, but it's also okay to be excited about what's happening between us."

His eyes met hers, and in that moment, everything felt clear. The laughter, the teasing, the tender moments—they all led them to this. He leaned closer, their foreheads touching as their breaths mingled in the small space between them.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You mean a lot to me. I've never felt like this before."

"I feel the same," she whispered, her heart pounding as she leaned in, their lips brushing together gently at first. The kiss deepened, filled with the intensity of their feelings.

As they pulled back, they both wore matching smiles, the atmosphere in the room shifting to one of undeniable intimacy.

"Let's just... relax tonight," Bucky suggested, his fingers still entwined with hers. "I don't want to pressure either of us."

Y/n nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence wrap around her. They spent the next few hours talking, sharing stories about their lives, their dreams, and their fears, slowly unraveling the layers they had built around their hearts.

As the night wore on, they fell into an easy rhythm, the barriers that once separated them dissolving in the gentle glow of the bedside lamp.

At some point, Bucky shifted closer, their bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and before long, they were tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, their legs brushing against one another.

"I've got to admit, this is pretty nice," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness.

"Yeah, it really is," Y/n replied softly, feeling completely at ease.

Bucky looked down at her. "You know, I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

Y/n felt her breath hitch at his confession, a thrill running through her. "Really? I thought I was the only one."

"Guess we're both just a little slow," he said with a small laugh.

She smiled, their eyes locked. "Or maybe we just needed the right moment."

"Speaking of which..." Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin.

Their lips met again, this time with a newfound urgency, a sweet hunger igniting between them. Bucky's hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together.

As they kissed, Y/n felt all the nervous tension from earlier melt away, replaced by a wave of desire. The kiss deepened, Bucky's hand slipping beneath her shirt, fingertips brushing against her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, pulling back just enough to search her eyes, his gaze serious.

"Absolutely," she breathed, feeling more alive than ever.

With that unspoken agreement, the atmosphere shifted again, charged with passion. Their kisses grew more fervent, and as Bucky shifted his body closer, their breaths quickened, hearts racing in tandem.

Eventually, they found themselves tangled together, Bucky's warm hands exploring the curves of her body while she pressed closer, feeling completely enveloped by him. It was exhilarating and new, and Y/n felt a thrill run through her as they lost themselves in each other.

As the night deepened, they surrendered to the moment, their bodies moving in a rhythm that felt natural and right. Each touch ignited a fire within them, and they navigated the uncharted territory of intimacy, laughter mingling with sighs as they shared this beautiful connection.

The world outside faded away as they became lost in their own cocoon of warmth, surrendering to the emotions that had been building between them throughout the trip.

Eventually, they fell into a blissful slumber, their bodies still intertwined, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating their peaceful expressions.

When Y/n awoke later, it was to the feeling of Bucky's warm breath against her neck, his arm snugly around her waist. The moment was blissful, filled with the remnants of their earlier connection. She shifted slightly, and Bucky stirred, opening his eyes to meet hers.

"Morning," he mumbled, a sleepy grin spreading on his face.

"Morning," she replied, her heart fluttering at the sight of him so relaxed.

"Did we—" he began, looking a bit sheepish.

"We did," she confirmed, her cheeks flushing.

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Guess that makes this our first real night together."

"Guess so," Y/n replied, feeling both nervous and excited at the same time.

"Just to be clear, I wouldn't trade that for anything," he said earnestly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I really like you, Y/n."

Her heart soared at his words, and she smiled brightly at him. "I like you too, Bucky. More than I thought I would

They lay there in a comfortable silence, as if neither wanted to break the spell. And maybe, she thought, neither of them had to. This trip, the endless roads, and stolen glances had all led to this—an unspoken understanding that something had changed between them, something that was just beginning.

After a few more quiet moments, Bucky cleared his throat. "So...what now?" There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, rare for him, and it only made her heart ache with affection.

"Maybe we keep going," she said softly, tracing her fingers along the rough fabric of his shirt. "See where the road takes us?"

Bucky's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I like the sound of that." He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked down at her. "But you know, Y/n, once we get back to New York...things are going to be different."

"Yeah," she admitted, meeting his gaze with a steady confidence she didn't quite feel. "But that's okay. I think I'm ready for different."

The words hung between them, heavy with promise. It wasn't just about what happened on this trip—it was about what waited for them beyond it. Missions and fights would come and go, but she knew now that whatever happened, they'd face it together. This wasn't just a fling or a stolen moment on the road; it was something more, something that would stay with them long after they returned to the city.

They packed up their things slowly that morning, taking their time, reluctant to leave this quiet, stolen space. As they loaded up the bike, Bucky handed her the helmet with a smirk. "Think you can handle another day of my driving?"

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled. "You just focus on the road, Barnes. I'll be here... holding on tight."

She climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist with a natural familiarity now. As the engine roared to life and they pulled onto the open road, Y/n felt a strange sense of peace wash over her. The miles stretched ahead of them, but for once, she wasn't looking at the destination.

She was right where she wanted to be.

[exorcqism]

﹆₊見学‧₊˚ FIELD TRIP, AIKU OLIVER

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ taking a road trip with your boyfriend..but that’s not all. wc, 1.27K. dark mode recommended

␥ note. after two months of doing absolutely nothing besides playing minecraft and genshin impact, i got into blue lock and finished the entire thing in a week (this was in june) but i'm kinda back because this entire time i been thinking about writing..and today, i specifically wanted to write for oliver (i'm scared i never wrote for him). but my choso era never ends so they both my man now. ANYWAYYY WE ARE SO BACK. reblog to support meee and enjoyyy (btw this is NOT proof read so i apologize if there are any errors…if not..well lmk how much you enjoyed this)

␥ tags. fingering, smut, female anatomy, female reader, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

you and oliver had been driving for hours, the endless road stretching out before you. a slight shiver ran through your body as the cool air from the air conditioning caressed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

the landscape outside the window was a blur of greens and browns, the trees and fields merging into a tapestry of nature's colors. occasionally, a small town would appear on the horizon, only to fade away as quickly as it came.

the car was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of a snack bag. oliver's hands were steady on the wheel, his gaze focused yet relaxed. you glanced over at him, appreciating the calm determination in his eyes. the journey felt like a shared adventure, each mile bringing you closer to an unspoken destination.

as the sun began to set, the sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples. the air outside grew cooler, and you pulled a light blanket over your lap, feeling its warmth contrast with the chill from the air conditioning. the soft glow of the dashboard lights added a sense of tranquility to the moment, and you couldn't help but smile at the serenity of it all.

"do you wanna stop soon?" oliver's voice broke the silence, gentle and considerate.

"maybe at the next town," you replied, your voice equally soft. "it would be nice to stretch our legs and find a place to rest for the night."

he nodded, and you both settled back into the quiet rhythm of the drive, content in each other's company as the road continued to unfold before you.

after a while, the glow of distant lights signaled the approach of the next town. as you got closer, the small town's charm became evident with its quaint houses and a few scattered shops. the anticipation of a restful night ahead filled you with a sense of calm and satisfaction, making the long journey feel all the more worthwhile.

when you both arrived at a nearby hotel, oliver parked the car and gave you a mischievous look, his heterochromatic eyes twinkling with a playful challenge. “wanna go in or stay out here for the night?”

you gave oliver a confused look, eyebrows furrowing as you processed his question. anyone in their right mind would go in the hotel, you thought, especially after such a long drive. the idea of a warm bed and a proper shower was incredibly appealing. but he never mentioned stopping at any hotels until just now, and his sudden suggestion caught you off guard.

your confused expression gradually faded, replaced by a soft smile as you finally spoke up, “i guess we can stay in here.” the prospect of spending the night in the cozy confines of the car, wrapped in blankets and sharing whispered conversations, suddenly seemed like an interesting continuation of this sudden trip.

with that, you heard the engine's gentle hum cease, leaving a profound silence filling the car. you reclined the seat you were sitting in, feeling the soft leather against your back as you stretched out and propped your feet up against the dashboard, the cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth of the blanket draped over your legs.

beside you, oliver's window was rolled down, allowing the crisp night air to flow in. you watched as a grey cloud of smoke curled gracefully from his lips, swirling and dancing in the air before drifting out of the window with each exhale. the scent of tobacco mingled with the cool night breeze, creating a momentary haze that contrasted with the clarity of the starry sky above.

oliver’s hand drifted over to your thigh, his fingers grazing your skin with a featherlight touch. his thumb began to trace gentle circles just beneath the hem of your shorts, the warmth of his hand contrasting with the cool air seeping in through the open window.

the sensation sent a shiver up your spine, each caress igniting a trail of tingling warmth that spread through your body. his touch was both tender and deliberate, a silent communication that spoke volumes in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

it wasn’t long until you and oliver found yourselves in the backseat, a tangle of limbs and fervent whispers. his movements were slow and deliberate, each touch a calculated stroke that sent waves of desire coursing through you.

his hands explored the contours of your body, fingers tracing the delicate curves of your sides with an almost reverent tenderness. the roughness of his facial hair grazed your skin, each kiss a mix of gentle passion and raw intensity.

oliver's lips met yours with a fervent hunger, the intensity of his kisses leaving you breathless. he moved from your mouth to your neck, his kisses becoming rougher, more insistent. the coarse texture of his chin tickled your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake.

as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive flesh of your neck, you felt a mixture of pain and pleasure, each mark he left a testament to his desire. the reddish-purple bruises blossomed under his touch, a map of his affection painted across your skin.

without hesitation, his hands slid beneath your pants, fingers deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them. with deliberate slowness, he began to peel the fabric away from your skin, the rough denim sliding down your legs.

the sensation of your underwear following suit, gliding down to join the discarded pants on the car floor, left you exposed and vulnerable. the cool air brushed against your newly bared skin, heightening your senses and amplifying the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

slowly, oliver inserted two fingers into your core, the deliberate pressure and gradual intrusion sending shivers of intense pleasure through your body. he began to pump them in and out with a rhythmic precision, each movement igniting a cascade of sensations that left you breathless.

the warmth of his fingers contrasted with the cool night air, heightening the electric connection between you. with every thrust, waves of ecstasy coursed through you, eliciting uncontrollable moans that filled the intimate space of the car. you writhed beneath him, your body arching and trembling, fully surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure he was orchestrating.

instinctively, your nails dig into oliver’s shoulder, leaving crescent-shaped imprints on his skin as you throw your head back against the car door. your legs remain spread obediently, trembling slightly, as oliver's ministrations send ripples of pleasure coursing through you.

each gasp and moan that escapes your lips only seems to spur him on, creating an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

as the rhythm of his movements intensified, you felt yourself reaching the precipice of release. the tension coiled within you like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. with a final, shuddering gasp, you were sent tumbling over the edge, waves of bliss crashing over you in a symphony of pure sensation.

your body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. oliver held you close, his fingers still inside you, offering a gentle pressure as your heartbeat gradually began to slow.

the intimacy of the moment enveloped you both, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your shared passion. slowly, oliver removed his fingers, the sticky mess stretching from your core to the tips of his fingers and around his digits.

“maybe we should’ve went in the hotel, yeah?”

© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[sashi-ya]

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE izumo haruichi x f! reader. voyeurism 「+18」

⋆ requested by: anon: congratulations on 8k followers my dear <3 how about haruichi w a f!reader + voyeurism. i’ve a feeling he’s secretly kinda freaky under that neat little facade ⋆tw: mdni. explicit smut. voyeuristic haurichi. masturbation. desperate to fuck you. ends up doing it on the dark ⋆wc: 1,7K // event masterlist

Mint locks cover spots of his eyes, those who watch the drops of sweat drip down your neck, down your spine.

He is always there; when you train, supporting you from the dark. When you sleep, and when you shower, that’s what he desires… to observe your hands going up and down your waist, with your hair getting wet, and your flesh purified.

But Haruichi -thinks he- is decent. He just likes to watch, not -at least until now- become a stalker.

Oh, but dear Mr. Izumo… are you really that sure?

The heat is unbearable. Your hair tie snaps.

“Damn it!” you hiss, being this hot under scorching sun with your hair down seems like torture.

“Have it ~” Haruichi mumbles, presenting before your eyes a sacred black elastic.

What kind of miracle is this?

“Ah… thank you Izumo-san! I will give it back as soon as we get a shower” you happily exclaim, as the relief device reaches your fingers. And, soon enough, puts your hair up in a pony tail.

Haruichi acts cool. Though, the imagery of you putting your hair up makes him thankful for his family creation; Izumo tecs suits don’t show erections.

He feels deeply ashamed, however, of sexualizing every step you take.

You, on the other hand, can’t think of anything else besides how good he looks with his hair down. There is no guilt in wanting the same most women around want; Haruichi Izumo is the most eligible bachelor. Not only he is hot and strong, but also he is the future heir of Izumo Tecs.

Hot and rich. Be mine, Izumo-sama.

In any case, even if his family business might be able to create it very soon, Haruichi isn’t able to read your mind. Your façade, innocent and tired from training can only make him even more guilty.

“You can keep it for as long as you want, (Name)-san” he says, swallowing with his throat dry after you squeezed his hand in friendly manner.

You give him a sweet smile, turning around to follow suit your Captain’s orders; being the Tachikawa base still under construction you have been transferred to a different one so you are all still learning about the installations.

Haruichi stands there, watching you join the group of women officers. The way your body looks with the suit on, makes him wanna rip him. His palm itches to squeeze, to slap your ass. His fingers, desperate, wish to be holding your waist. His teeth, crazy to be buried on your back flesh.

“Get a grip, Haruichi!” “I’m just tired…”

The sunset came faster than expected, and a night sky full of stars covered the whole nation. With no Kaiju alert, every officer had the chance to have a good meal as well as refreshing showers before sleep.

But there were a couple of recruits whose eyes despite being closed, couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that their bodies weren’t tired, indeed they actually were even more than that… but their brains couldn’t help it; both had each other images burned in the back of their minds.

A walk around the base would do; a canned iced coffee from that old machine will help with the heat. Caffeine never made you less sleepy anyway.

You realize that you lied to him; that black tie is now resting on your right wrist… You didn’t give it back. You smile discovering it still there. Your left index passing under, pulling a little bit from the elastic only to release it after. A tingling sensation invades your flesh, wishing that to be his hands squeezing your wrist to pin you down for a kiss.

Allowed to walk around in short shorts due to the heat, you put a show for two pair of eyes that bleed desire from the dark. Like a twist of fate, his emerald irises met your beautiful self in the middle of a dark hall of a still unknown new base.

Haruichi stands still; he is -or think he is- aware you aren’t of his presence. A debate of stormy qualities takes place inside of him; should he watch you, should he stalk you?

“Isn’t that a little bit on the criminal side, Haruichi?!” he repeats to himself. But he also can’t stop following the line of your bare legs, how those short shorts hug every inch of tasteful meat, how your now still a little wet hair falls on your back… and that tank top, that so shamefully allows your nipples to ghost through.

Haruichi bites his lips to the point of turning them white from the missing blood flow on them. Haruichi pulls from his front locks. Little physical reactions to a much-deserved punishment as he keeps on looking, as now his shorts do show an unstoppable hardness.

He looks at you play with his hair tie; he enjoys the way shadows cast on your profile as you drink that iced coffee… that weak white light coming from the vending machine reflects right in all your curves.

“If I were a bad man; If I were a sick bastard…” he susurrus. Haruichi is not, he won’t hurt you…

And you know that, but you want him to be bad; you want Haruichi to be sick… Because you’ve seen him, because you know he is there. But he doesn’t know, he doesn’t really know…

A drop, and suddenly a trail of iced coffee drizzles your tank top. Like those summer contest of wet t-shirts, you act dumb. Men are simple, men are addicted to shitty porn coded depictions.

Taking advantage of that weak spot light coming from the bending machine you show how much of your breasts are showing through now a completely shear fabric.

“Shit!” you whisper, loud enough for him to listen. Your palms graze against your chest, helping your nipples become harder. Acting like you are -stupidly- cleaning the stains off your body, you push Haruichi to a certain extent you are not sure how unhealthy might be.

Him, thinking his hideout is perfect, fights against the need of his hand reaching his crotch. Relief, I beg you please… give. me. some. relief…

He might not notice, but he definitely can be heard. Accelerated breathing, on the verge of panting. A hand over his shorts, already stain in precum. Desperate, Izumo Haruichi, has fallen.

You take the hair tie off your wrist and use it to tie your tank top up, right under your boobs. Low short shorts, belly exposed, nipples the shade of your lips protruding so tempting, casting shadows as you turn to full show yourself towards his way.

Haruichi’s hand going up and down, pumping his dick. Hungry, aching, yearning for his sticky palm to be your insides.

Your hips, moving softly side to side, like dancing to the melody of his huffs and “nghs”. Walking so slowly, almost deadly sedated pace towards him.

“Izumo-san, you like watching me? Do you enjoy this? Spying on me? Getting off on me while I’m not watching?” you purr, coming closer and closer to his hideout.

He doesn’t answer, but should he do it? Haruichi knows he’s gone too far, but can he stop it? can he stop relieving himself if your kissable lips ask him those things? Can he lie to you saying he doesn’t like what he sees?

“Tell me, Haruichi-kun… You enjoy touching yourself to this?” you ask, playing straight with your breasts; lifting slowly the wet coffee-stained shirt.

“I do, I do… I do...” he answers back, or maybe he growls. Like a beast, him losing everything for a drop of pleasure.

You scoff, letting the darkness of a training room in the middle of the night. Haruichi’s hand snatches you, covering your mouth with it as he pulls you inside.

“As much as I enjoy watching you, I much rather fuck you right here (Name)” he whispers right in your ear from behind. He has his hand pressed on your lower belly, pinning your back against his chest and sex.

“As much as I enjoy spying on you, to see your body from afar… I much rather have your skin all for me…”

You hum in consent, grazing your ass against his hardness. Him takes advantage of your little dance, humping right over your black shorts. He most probably wish to leave stains of his pace.

He turns you around when he is over with a dry humping -that’s above all anything but dry- that left him almost on the verge of climax once again. His lips clash with yours, a kiss done in the dark, a kiss that leaves you trembling from your waist down.

A kiss that becomes two and three, and your ass sitting right on a bench that’s most often used for training.

“You know, I just need to fuck you right here. I promise I will give you everything after, just let me fuck you deeper. Now…”

“Please, do… Haruichi-kun”

You are completely ok with his desperate ways; there will be time for foreplay… now you need him deep, oh so deep inside.

In total darkness, perhaps a faint reflection of the hall filters through, he pulls your shorts down. Not even the time to pull them completely off, as you feel one of the legs tangling on your ankle.

His fingers get absolutely covered with your juices, of a dripping wet sex desperate to be used. A few ups and downs, and some fingering took him to finally get you ready.

Oh, the image of his locks framing his face in between darkness, how they messy stuck to his forehead and temples covered in sweat…

A classic missionary will do for this, he is so well trained. Your legs are spread wide, the flowy white shirt of him tucked under his chin. Your hands land on sculpted abs, and then nails carve strongly on his forearms as he finally slides it in, raw and deliciously breaking you in half…  

It is by far ironic how he didn’t actually need to see to be able to touch and enjoy your body... when Haruichi is just a little voyeuristic man!