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bardic-inspo · 2 months

Text

Blood in the Mortar

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav

Rating: Explicit (Smut!!)

Key Tags: Vampire/Blood Bride Lore, Service Dom Astarion, Sexy Use of Telepathic Bond, Evil Power Couple, Torturing a Captive, Choking, Biting/Blood, Masquerade, PIV, Cunnilingus

Summary:

“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” Astarion whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.” It started on Naomi’s knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Astarion didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of his ascended blood.

Cross-posting from my AO3 account. This is my first BG3 smut fic. If you like it, I'd love to know! Click here if you'd prefer to read on AO3.

“To whom can a vampire bare its soul and admit its fears? From whom can it receive consolation for the past, comfort for the present, and hope for the future?...The vampire is drawn emotionally to a mortal and decides, because of the strength of this emotion, to make her his bride…The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers.”

-Van Richten’s Monster Hunter’s Compendium, Vol 1

Astarion twists the stem of his wine glass, idly tilting the contents within. His assorted guests warp in the bulb of it, swaying between rosy red and clear crystal.

A gravelly voice interrupts his game. “Quite the menagerie you’ve gathered here, Lord Ancunín.”

Astarion doesn’t bother to stifle his sigh. There’s no mistaking him as the lord of the house, even masked as he is. Astarion’s ensemble this evening is pitch dark velvet swirled in crimson thread and snaking silver. His mask glimmers in the same shade of scaled metal, set to complement the curve of his cheekbones, with only miniscule, twinkling rubies encrusting the edges. Nothing meant to outshine the searing color of his eyes. The mask might be silver, but it’s a red dragon Astarion embodies for this particular masquerade.

This party’s for more monstrous company, after all.

No expense was spared for the ‘menagerie’. A grand piano, polished to an opalescent white, plays under spectral hands at the heart of the ballroom alongside a string quartet. A starlit Baldur’s Gate glistens outside the windowed east wall, framed in gold drapery to match the shimmering flecks in the white marble floor. Lavish wine and better blood pour freely; his guests have only to lift their empty glasses to have them brimming again.

Even with all the ornate masks, in the shapes of creatures exotic or fierce, none of the fangs in the room are fake. All the titles are, save for his and his consort’s. Astarion’s lip curls with distaste.

This masquerade was meant for nobility of a supernatural stature. Vampires, warlocks, lycanthropes. Those who lead them. But what his doors received were lowly spawn. Servants sent in their masters’ stead to get just a glimpse of the one and only vampire ascendant, and then to scurry back and tell tale of him. Cowards.

There’s only one human here who’s just human.

Astarion offers him a well-practiced shrug of a laugh. “I do hope you don’t feel out of place among us more…colorful sorts. Lord…? Forgive me, what was it again?”

“Isn’t the point of a masquerade not to bother with such trivialities?” The stranger chuckles hastily. “In any case, I am not lord. Only a humble apprentice to the most renowned wizard Waterdeep has to offer.”

Ah, yes. The invitation was sent for the newly named archmage, filling the god-shaped hole Gale left behind in the wake of his own ascension. Astarion’s eyes flit over the lanky, unkempt apprentice who addresses him instead.

His hair hangs in honey blonde waves past his shoulders, like the mane of the beast he seeks to imitate. It’s a lion’s mask the apprentice wears. Perhaps a poor attempt at humor. The effort would’ve been better paid towards penance, and a sheep’s head would’ve suited him far better than the guise of a predator. Anything would’ve been more fitting than the baggy business he calls a shirt.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “That still doesn’t give me a thing to call you.”

“I am Enrik, if it pleases you.”

“No surname?” Astarion asks with an arched brow.

“None of consequence, my lord,” he replies with the uneasy edge Astarion’s entitled to.

“Well, Enrik, I hope you find our masquerade pleasing.”

“It has certainly been enlightening thus far.”

“And how’s that?” Astarion asks brusquely. He never did like wizards.

He doesn’t like the look on this one’s face, either. The lion that should be a sheep surveys the room with a pitying expression, like he’s watching some petty amusement. A zoo. Gods, or a circus. And what would that make him, Astarion the Ascended, if not a clown? Astarion’s fingers tighten on the stem of his glass, an imperceptible change to any eyes not keen enough to catch it.

“Why, it’s been only a year since your ascension,” Enrik says. “You’ve accomplished much in short order. It’s quite remarkable.”

Astarion’s nose twitches. Praise. From cattle. How quaint, and ill-fitting.

His expression abruptly eases. A refined, familiar scent carries to him from across the crowd. A note of lavender, twined with his favored bergamot.

“And you’ve already enthralled some truly magnificent specimens,” Enrik carries on, oblivious. “Take this fine creature, for example. What a pretty thing to have strung along on your leash.”

Astarion feels her before he sees her. She wipes a palm down the sheath of her skirt, smoothing out some infinitesimal wrinkle. The music smooths, too. With that one simple motion, it bends and blends into something deeper, fuller. All of the lesser spawn of Astarion’s making straighten their slouched shoulders.

He feels the tug of her in his head, and then the cool stroke of her hand to his back, the soothing feel of her fingers combing through his hair, and the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp. It takes a concerted effort to suppress the pleased groan that bubbles in the back of his throat. All this from across the room, without so much as a glance, let alone a touch.

Hello, darling, he thinks, and she hears it just as if he’d spoken aloud. Aren’t you ravishing?

Her skirt is snow-white crepe that clings taut to her shapely hips before fanning out at her feet. It’s the same lovely shade of ivory as her hair, twisted in a braid like a crown around her head, with the rest falling sleek down her back. A black lace bodice sets just off her lilac shoulders, with gloves to match. Floral stitching vees down from her waistline. The same embellishments decorate the skirt’s edges.

His dark consort, his Naomi once-Tavriel-now-Ancunín, weaves leisurely through the partygoers. The thorny prickle of Astarion’s irritation inspires a little lift at the corner of her mouth.

I’ve been called so much worse, she thinks. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. I think you called me ‘creature’ just yesterday. Should I not have taken it as a compliment?

Astarion’s scowls. He should be grateful to have your name in his mouth. To even set foot in our home. Let alone speak to me like that. Or at all.

But think of how much fun he’s started, she answers, chipper. You were so bored before.

She’s not wrong.

If they’re not the guests you wanted, Naomi continues, cool and calm, then they’re intruders, aren’t they? Whatever should we do with them?

A slow smile steals its way onto his lips. Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more. Miracles never cease.

“Do you know what they call her?” Astarion says aloud, to worse company. “Other than mine, of course.”

“She was the hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion waves a manicured hand irritably, as if swatting away a stray fly. “One of them, true, but isn’t there another name that comes to mind?”

The man swallows thickly. “The Siren of the Sword Coast.”

"And yet here you are," Astarion sneers, "ready to dash yourself upon the rocks like a little ship blown astray. I can hardly blame you."

His eyes soften, just past the shoulder of Enrik’s gaudy doublet. In the low flutter of candlelight, he spies the sheen of amethysts set among delicate feathers wrought from silver. He'd had the mask made for Naomi with the likeness of a swan in mind.

Still, as pretty as it is, his favorite gleam is those eyes. She still kept the kiss of violet in them, even in death. It mingles with the red in her irises, like a rich, dark wine.

"She is captivating, isn’t she?" Astarion sighs, a faint smile grazing his lips. "My beautiful bride."

“Forgive me my lord, I meant no offense,” Enrik says, eyes down with deference. “I’m merely an admirer of fine things. And a messenger for my fine master.”

“Do your duty, then,” Astarion says tersely, his smile evaporating.

“My master understands that power is the only currency that holds any weight for men of your making. He has much of it to share, if you're likewise inclined.”

Astarion laughs coldly. “And what does your master wish for me to share with him, exactly? I don’t bite just anyone, after all.”

A swallow bobs in Enrik’s throat. “He only means to make mutual use of your shared arsenal. Like you mean to make of his, my lord. He could work wonders with even just one scream. He could bottle it--”

Astarion clenches the wine glass in a chokehold. He could kill this wretched cretin here, now, bare-handed. Or have him drawn and quartered. Or--

No one knows their manners these days, Naomi sighs inside his head. But if you want to play along and see what this archmage would pay, I’ll--

Astarion’s jaw clenches. You won’t be screaming for him, little love.

It earns him an eyeroll. It wouldn’t be like that--

It won’t be at all. Astarions sends his answer with the weight of a stone.

He sips his wine, boring into Enrik with a hard stare. “Don’t you know swans make the most achingly beautiful music?”

Enrik’s eyes dart anxiously over Astarion’s burning ones. “Only just before they die, so the stories go.”

“Before someone does,” Astarion drawls, as the vintage seeps sweetly down his throat. “You see, my beloved, oh, she’s a monster, too. She so does love the taste of blood in her mouth, now that she’s supped of mine.”

Enrik edges back, shoulders hunched small like the prey he is. “I-I’m just a messenger my lord. Killing me after you’ve so graciously offered your hospitality would be the same as breaking a mirror. It would only cast ill luck on you and your house.”

A gloved hand wraps Enrik’s shoulder. He shirks from that delicate grip like it's scalding. At long last, he finds the decency to shut up.

Naomi’s fangs gleam like the bottle in her hand. “More wine?”

The white marble of the ballroom shimmers like freshly fallen snow. All the curtains are drawn back, cinched aside for good measure. Shadow and sunlight slice the floor in slanted strips. Gritty ash piles where the light lies, coils of rope strewn among the gray dust of guests gone for good.

Only one remains.

Sprawled motionless across the floor, Enrik lies nose-to-nose with the knife edge of day and darkness. It’s only a silhouette that keeps him from being swallowed by the glow. Only Astarion’s grace shades him.

The vampire ascendant cuts a sharp shadow before the arched windowpane. Brightness clings, soft as clouds, to his curls, his lean edges, and his jaw. His velvet coat crumples at his heels as if it were nothing more precious than the ash heaped around him. He’s blessedly bare from the waist-up, resplendent in the sunlight while he surveys his domain awash with it.

It calls to mind the man who took Naomi out into the woods all those months and nights ago. What he looked like when she woke and found his back arched, chin tilted skyward. What she’d do, and what little she wouldn’t, to see Astarion slip into bliss every day as easily as slipping out of a coat.

It’s Naomi’s grace that finally rouses their disheveled company. A rolling melody, played on piano, pours from her fingertips and crests with the morning birdsong drifting in. Enrik groans against the grain of it.

At once, the music cuts to quiet. Naomi’s hands hover over the keys, knuckles twitching in faint longing. Then, she turns on the bench and turns her attention towards her restless audience.

“Good morning,” she says brightly.

Enrik squints up at her. His brown eyes leak with the light, even though he’s sheltered from it. They dart across the room, skimming like stones over water, before they sear into Naomi.

“You.”

“Who else were you expecting? You’re in my home.”

Rope binds Enrik’s hands and heels. He tugs at the ties, or tries to. He hasn’t yet figured out it’s all for not.

Naomi stands, her heels clicking staccato to the tile. As she goes, she paints a palm over the piano keys, stroking each octave from root to rise. Music flows freely again all on its own, even when her hand falls away.

She comes to loom over her captive, lips pursed. “I hear you said some very rude things to my husband.”

Enrik folds against the floor, panting for breath.

“You should be so grateful for our hospitality,” she says. “Should have been. That’s all behind us now, isn’t it?”

Feral noise rips from his throat. Like a dog, he lunges, snapping for her ankles. She side-steps into the light, not bothering to flee any farther than an inch. He freezes, ogling the shiny toe of her shoe now parallel to his nose.

“You don’t fear the sun?” he gasps, quivering.

“I need not fear anything.”

Naomi lifts her head, meeting a scarlet stare brimming in equal measures affection and amusement. Sunlights melts over the bare of Astarion’s chest, spurring her tongue to wet her lips. He leans against the glass, head angled back, eyes slitted in satisfaction. A slow smile unfurls on his face.

“You should be grateful, too,” Naomi says with a sneer, “to lay here and not just a little to the left.”

“W-What do you mean? What did you do to me?!” Enrik’s eyes bulge. He squirms in a sudden panic, to no avail.

Naomi tilts her neck to the side and taps at the scar Astarion’s teeth marked her with. Her fingers fan down on her own throat, savoring the shape of that succulent memory. Of the last bite he gave her in life. Of his lips swirling comfort into her skin before sucking her down to the last drop. Of the look on his face, the awe he had, when she next woke.

The faintest leak of breath, soft as down, passes from Astarion’s mouth.

“You--you--! You turned me!” Her hostage sputters. Naomi frowns darkly.

“Oh not me,” Naomi snaps, incredulous. “I’m only a weak little spawn puppet, according to you. According to you, the only good thing I can do is scream. How could I manage to turn you without choking on my own leash?”

She gags for good measure. He doesn’t get the joke. He hasn’t caught on to the other joke yet. Which means she’s safe as can be, even this close. So long as she stands on the other edge of Astarion’s shadow.

Astarion turns. His silhouette twists with his movement. Enrik shrieks like a swine.

“Oh, that wasn’t good at all. You can do better.” Naomi presses out a strained sigh, crouching down to fist a hand in his hair and yank his head upright.

Enrik bares his teeth as if they aren’t dull and flat. “Filthy bitch!”

The insult doesn’t so much as chip Naomi’s serene composure, but it puts a twang in her head, along the invisible string that links her and Astarion. His anger lashes in her mind like a restless tail.

“What a vile little ingrate,” Astarion snarls.

She lets her hostage’s head roll from her palm, cheek smacking the tile. Enrik writhes against his restraints. Naomi clicks her tongue in reproach. I’ve barely even touched you yet.

Green magic threads between her gloved fingers, glittering. She snaps them and says, “Scream.”

And he does. Loud enough to drown out the crescendo coursing from the grand piano. Inside of Enrik’s skull, the song isn’t nearly so sweet. His back jerks up and away from the floor, head bent back, eyes torn wide in terror.

His cries pitch with the slink of Astarion’s shadow stretching nearer. Sunlight clings close behind his heels. Naomi’s fingers flex and the spell recedes.

Her magic leaves Enrik sniveling, inching like a worm away from the slice of light between Astarion’s legs. Astarion huffs softly. With a wave of his hand, a ghostly one apparates behind him and snags the curtains closed.

Astarion’s scent sweeps with his sleeve -- the sweetness of brandy, mingled with the woodsy smell of rosemary. His knuckles gently brush the side of Naomi’s cheek. Instinctively, she leans towards the touch.

“Precious thing,” Astarion chides with a pout. “You’re being far too sweet to him. Here I thought you only had room in your heart for me.”

Naomi inclines her head, eyes narrowing by a hair. “My sire would see me be crueler?”

Astarion’s thumb grazes her lips. At once, she parts for him, teasing the pad of it with her tongue while he toys with the tip of a fang. He presses in, watching his skin bend to near-breaking, as if to test her sharpness. Before any blood’s drawn, he draws his hand down to cradle her chin. His voice is smooth as satin, though his stare is a hardened one.

“Your sire would see you spoken to with the respect you’re owed. And he needs you to kneel, dear one.”

The words are a weight to her shoulder, easing her down. But the heft is a comfort, not a compulsion. He could compel her, if he wanted to.

He hasn’t yet.

One day, she thinks, he will. And he’ll feel the weight of whatever chains he’d wrap her in through the bond that binds them tighter than the tadpole did. He won’t do it without good reason. Naomi doesn’t need a reason to kneel for her lover. That he wishes it is enough.

When her knees meet the ground, she feels the shape of Astarion’s smile pressed against their bond like it’s pressed, wet and wanting, against her mouth. She feels the dainty tug of his teeth coax her lips apart. Tastes the coppery tang of her own blood and the velvet undercurrent of his within her veins. The heat of him, still such a novel thing in his ascended body, bleeds from his skin to hers, fanning the newfound ache between her thighs.

In her mind, and his, his lips pour down her bare shoulders. His fingers fist in the fine fabric of her dress, ripping it to ruin. He leaves none of her untouched. To anyone else’s eye, they’re not even touching.

Naomi’s eyelids flutter. She downs a hard swallow. Good girl, he says, just for her.

To their captive audience, he spares no such kindness. Astarion raises his foot above Enrik’s ankles, letting it dangle for a moment. It drops like a hammer to an anvil. Enrik bucks with a fresh scream and a sickening crack.

“I’d never give a miserable little wretch like you the gift of immortality,” Astarion spits. “You wouldn’t know how to appreciate it.”

Confusion flits between the pain and panic in Enrik’s eyes.

“That’s right,” Astarion seethes. “You’re not a vampire. You aren’t worth my consort’s teeth. Or mine.”

Crunch. Another ankle shatters. Another shriek claws the air. Astarion strolls, leisurely, to Enrik's hands next. He grounds his heel into the pop of fingers breaking beneath his boots. Their hostage heaves a broken sob.

“Sh, sh, sh, oh, it’s all right,” Astarion croons. “I happen to have just the knife for you.”

Astarion crosses back to his coat piled near the window and draws a dagger from its folds. Rhapsody. Cazador’s blade. Naomi hasn’t seen it since they claimed the Crimson Palace for themselves.

Brightness glints off the twined edge, a match for the harsh and singular focus gleaming in Astarion’s gaze.

So that’s what Astarion was smiling about, as he basked by the window. What had him so peacefully quiet and content. Murder was on his mind, even then.

Not the only thing on my mind, little love. She feels the slant of his smirk in her head, as if it ghosted past the hinge of her jaw. There’s no trace of it on Astarion’s stony exterior.

He plucks the crystal wine glass from the sill while he’s there, rotating the stem as he saunters back over. Blood flecks the fine leather of Astarion’s shoes. He plants them on either side of Enrik’s torso. He seizes Enrik’s collar, yanking harshly until he’s kneeling, too.

“Fuck you,” Enrik spits. “Fuck you both! My master will--”

“Darling,” Astarion trills, grip unwavering, “Would you..?”

Magic swirls sticky across Naomi’s tongue. “Ad Lapidē.”

Violet runes blaze to life beneath their captive’s knees, capturing him in perfect stillness. His mouth hangs agape with unspent vitriol. Astarion’s hands recoil, twisting the dagger in one, and the glass in the other.

“Your master,” Astarion sneers with a dark laugh. “Too much of a coward to show his face, so he sends you. His sacrificial lamb, sent to speak to me about sharing my dearest treasure, like he isn’t the scum beneath her shoes. He had to know I wouldn’t hear of it. But he didn’t care enough about you to even taint your blood. That’s right. My lesser spawn sampled you just like they would any cattle. But my beautiful bride hasn’t had one bite, not yet. Not until I was sure you were sweet enough for her palate.”

Astarion strokes Rhapsody down the man’s outstretched neck. The barest streak of blood leaks from the scrape. Astarion’s eyes skate over the ash piles around the room, wistful.

“All it took was a sleeping potion,” he muses. “Just a few drops. Now all of the spawnlings sent by all of my lessers are dust. You’ll wish to join them, before this is done. And you will. When I decide we’re done.”

Naomi’s eyes fasten to the blood beading down Enrik’s pallid throat. Astarion digs in ever-so-gently with Rhapsody’s tip, just enough to start a stream running. He presses the cup beneath it. Slowly, the crystal fills red to the brim. Her mouth waters.

Astarion looks up abruptly, eyes wide and soft as his malice dissolves to fondness. “Darling, you do look famished. Open up for me, dear.”

Naomi’s chin lifts, lips parted. Astarion tilts the glass to meet her with the utmost care.

“I won’t have your grime and sweat on her lips,” Astarion hisses in Enrik’s ear. “Only your blood. You don’t deserve that…” He sucks a sharp breath in. Naomi watches with rapt attention as it stutters through his chest. “...pretty little mouth.”

Blood, rich and smooth as cream, slips across her tongue. Her eyes slip shut with it. With each swallow, syrupy warmth spreads slowly through her chest, down her legs, through arms, to her every inch. Too soon, it’s taken from her. Naomi’s eyes flutter open. She’s taken all of it, already.

“More, my love?” Astarion hums happily. “You only have to ask.”

“More,” she says at once, lips still wet.

Astarion carves. The insolent apprentice bleeds without a sound. Again and again, the cup fills. He tips it to her lips, and Naomi drinks until her eyelids grow heavy.

Her body thrums like it remembers the pulse that used to play through her veins. She’s warmer than a dead woman should be. Even the air itself feels like the kiss of steam tingling against her skin.

It’s then that Naomi feels Astarion’s lips in her head again, sucking little marks down her throat that match the rosy flush heating her cheeks. She pants out of habit, out of instinct, and not of need. Out of want for him to watch what he does to her. As if he doesn’t already know.

One twist of Astarion’s wrist turns the little leak of blood from Enrik’s throat into a fountain. Naomi’s spell dissipates in violet sparks. His body slumps over, lifeless. Blood runs from him in little rivers, rushing to fill the grout lines between the tiles.

Astarion cradles one last glassful in a delicate grip. His face clears of any clouded rage as he gives the glass an experimental swirl. Wordlessly, he tilts the cup to her mouth once more.

Naomi gasps. Wetness paints her chin. It streams down her neck, drips down her sternum and between her breasts, still bound in lace. Astarion drips with it, down to his knees in fluid motion. Somewhere behind him, the wine glass shatters. In her periphery, she sees the shards glitter like frost.

“Oops,” he says, low and shameless.

Barely any blood made it to Naomi’s mouth this time, but she doesn’t mind one bit. Astarion crawls to her, catlike. She’s only spared a moment to admire the lithe muscle flexing through his naked chest before he leans into the hollow of her throat. Silver curls brush soft beneath her chin. And then, she feels the tip of that devilish tongue take a tentative lick of the mess he’s made.

And gods, what a mess she must be. Blood smears from her neck to her navel, near-black on her blue-gray skin. Dark like Astarion’s eyes, with pupils blown wide and hungry. A flare of heat twists low in Naomi’s stomach. Her thighs shift, wet with it.

Thread rips in her ears. Rhapsody drags delicately down her side, scratching faint like a quill. The lace of her gown splits without resistance. There's none to be had against that mouth of his, just as busy as his nimble hands.

Astarion laps, dainty, down the path of her swallow. His coy smile curves with a petal-soft laugh against her collar bone. Naomi laughs, too, breathless as his tongue chases lazily after the spill. Breathless as the day he took the last breath she needed.

Ever since, Astarion’s given her everything she could want, without leaving her wanting for more than a moment. Now, her knees will never grow numb, no matter how long they bend against the marble. The chill of it can’t phase her, either. Even if it could, Astarion’s drawn the curtains wide. When she kneels for him, it’s only ever on sun-soaked stone.

Astarion treasures her. Cherishes her. Lavishes her with love and pleasure and wealth and power. Preserves her like prized silver, polished with such devotion so she’ll never know the tarnish of time. She’s his spawn. His wife.

But above all else, she’s his pride. The very thing that rules him. The only thing that still does.

Naomi wants to be in ruins with him. To be the last pillars of a broken world already so far beyond repair before they were dragged through it. Aeterna amantes. Until the fall of everything.

Until then, this, the low groan he gives her while her fingers stroke red through the plush white of his hair, the heady hum in her blood, the bloom of someone else’s waking color in her cheeks, the way Astarion looks at her like there’s nothing else at all, the way he tears into a dress he paid a fortune for, the hand he knots through her braids to wreck them -- this is everything.

Astarion tosses Rhapsody over his shoulder to join the broken wine glass, just like any other worthless trinket. His deft hands curl into the tears in her bodice and tug. At once, it gives way to his grip. She would, too, were it not so binding. Naomi grounds out a gasp. Her skirt pools at her knees, leaving her bare but for the warmth of Astarion’s roaming hands and the daylight pouring over them both.

“Do you know why I wanted you down here, pet?” He asks softly.

Astarion’s eyes latch to hers while his teeth toy at the curve of her breast. His tongue slicks over to soothe where his fangs grazed her, and then it melts against a pert nipple, taking it in with a lewd suck.

Naomi paws for a coherent thought, but all she finds is a pleading hum. He nips her again, just enough to see her tit tremble from the pull when he draws away. He leaves her nipple glistening and the underside of her breast peppered in pink before moving on to the other.

“To torture me, clearly,” Naomi pants. Her hands still tangle in his hair. Amusement glimmers in his gaze as he plants a chaste kiss to the inside of one of her wrists and sets them both back at her sides.

“Oh no, my sweet. I would never,” he says, chin resting flat against her navel. He looks up at her with wide, doey eyes, full of faux innocence.

He slinks lower, laying a line with his tongue that ends in a kiss just above where her skirts still shield her. He shifts them aside, ripping where he needs, until it’s only one little piece of black lace covering her cunt. Astarion growls against it, nosing at its edges, his back bowed, stomach brushing the floor. His teeth find the waistband and tear that, too.

Hot breath fans across the other mess he made. Naomi wavers on her knees. From that minute motion alone, she can hear how he’s soaked her.

But Astarion doesn’t disprove her theory; he leans back abruptly, straightening up to his knees again. An arm loops slack around her waist as he circles around to her bare back. Naomi’s lips twitch. If this is the game he wants, it’s too soon to beg. The thought inspires another needy flex through her cunt. His other hand slides to cup the heat of it, and Naomi whines. Reflexively, her back arches. Astarion pulls her still.

He catches the side of her jaw, angling her back into a biting kiss. It’s over before she wants it to be, his lips red and glistening with what he stole from her. Without him, her mouth burns from the cut.

“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” he whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.”

For a brief moment, he draws away entirely, leaving her with nothing but a lonely chill. And then, his back comes flush to the floor beneath her. His body splays behind her. The heat of his mouth crests against the heat of her cunt, his face fitted between her thighs, his lips hovering so close, but not close enough. His breath alone snags the one halfway through her throat.

“Oh,” her realization comes out quivering.

The tip of his nose nudges, just barely, against her clit, spurring her hips to roll. But all she gets from that mouth is mischief and a quiet snicker. He shifts his cheek, laving a long stroke of his tongue to the tender crux of her inner thigh before sealing it over with a tight suck. When he bites down, he draws out her blood with a rough moan.

Astarion pulls back, his smirk glazed in her, his eyes aflame. “Oh, darling, I’ve barely even touched you yet. And you’re so very wet for me.”

“Touch me, then,” she hisses between her teeth, raking her hands through his perfect curls and fisting them there.

His eyes spear into hers, hard like the way he clenches her ass and pulls her hips down. Even as it sets her on fire, his mouth gives her mercy. Astarion’s tongue melts hot across her cunt, swiping slow and dexterous. Not for the first time, Naomi thinks she might like to die like this.

It’s not so different from how she died. It started on her knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Even then, Astarion already knew the shape of her body like he knew his own hands. Every curve, every intimate bend, how to make her speak in noise instead of words. The hidden language behind every whimper she makes, every shiver.

So he knows exactly what he’s doing while his tongue teases gentle circles around her clit. He knows, by the time his timid little laps blend into a needy suck, that she’s so, so sensitive. Astarion’s hungry groan seeps into her slickness. She feels him like a current and clenches again, just as hungry.

Every feeling he gives her gives him an echo back just as strong. Every thought in her head is in his head, too. He eats her cunt and feels fed by her pleasure curling in the tips of his toes. He didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of blood back.

But Astarion knew her body before she was his bride. Now, he knows her mind. A part of him lives there, as she does in his. As he drags his pale, elegant fingers between her folds, he drags her head through a dozen depravities. Filling her with nothing but thoughts of how he’ll fill her properly.

He could have her against the arched windows lining the east wall, body pressed so pretty to the glass so he can see the imprint of it even after she peels away. She could feel the heat brimming off the sun outside, washing over their empire. He could taste her sunbathed shoulder while he fucks her senseless. His little love, dipped in honey. So what if someone else sees. Later, he’ll see to them not seeing anything ever again.

He could take her here, on the ballroom floor. Pull her down just as she surfaces from the pleasure he’s paid her, and roll her beneath him to bury her in it all over again. Make love on the marble streaked with the blood of their enemies, where hundreds of dignitaries have danced and dined on countless evenings before. But none of them were ever blessed with such a fine feast as he. The stone would be hard and unyielding against her back, and he would be just the same, driving into her, relentless. At least it’s far prettier than the dirt they used to fuck in.

Or--

A new picture snaps from Naomi’s mind to his, with the dip of his tongue to her entrance, a staggering spike of pleasure, and an unbidden whimper.

The piano. Pearly white with jet black keys, so pristine, so gorgeous with blood spilt red down the sides. Naomi poured over the side, ivory hair tinged with crimson, cascading over her bare, bent back. Astarion’s fingers buried in her hips, planting the promise of bruises, his body bucking wildly into her as he finally--

Naomi’s moan hits the high pitch of the ceiling. She grinds, needy, against the pair of fingers he crooks inside of her. His thumb spreads her slickness back and presses to the pucker of her ass.

So eager for me to fill you up. His voice in her head is a caress. Her hips roll with the sound. His thumb dips inside her ass with the motion, and Naomi gasps as she eases into that delicious stretch.

But darling, I haven’t fed all night, Astarion pouts, mouth moving with agonizing slowness as his eyes flutter shut beneath long black lashes. Naomi’s eyelids grow heavy, too, as she’s lost to that lovely, slick click of his lips. A meal like you is meant to be savored.

He fucks her holes leisurely, with the air of someone who knows he’ll be back for more before long. It brings to mind those long, lithe fingers, folded between the pages of a book to mark his place. All it takes is an effortless flex of them to keep her coaxed open like this. Her body draws taut as he leans her over the precipice of her own pleasure.

If you need more, my dear, by all means. Take it.

He growls into their bond like he’s the one devoured. Like he can plead ignorance to how he’s taking her apart with his hands, his mouth. Naomi catches a whine between her teeth. Astarion’s free hand cups her ass, urging her into the thrust her body bends towards. She parts a hand from his hair to brace flat to the floor beside his face, the other knotting anew in his silver curls.

Desperately, she rides against the flat of his tongue, against that long, refined nose, fucking herself back into the curve of his fingers. Every pull of them pulls her under, deeper into her own ecstasy. Her body grips him back like she means to drown him, too. The tip of his tongue flicks her clit in relentless rhythm, starting off a shudder she can’t stop.

“Don’t stop,” she begs within and without, the jerk of her hips growing frantic.

His mouth is mercy. When she comes for him, she’s wreathed in heat, slick with sweat, every nerve in her body alight with the most blissful burn. A strangled cry breaks in her chest. It buries the song now trembling from the piano. Naomi shivers out a sigh, and the keys shiver with her.

Astarion wraps his arms tight to her thighs, anchoring her through the aftershocks. When she stills again, her body throbs with a heady rush of blood, pleasure, want. Every part of her is limp with it, save the pulsing, rigid press in her mind and in his trousers. She’s putty in his hands even as his fingers leave her. Naomi twitches back towards the touch he takes away, body aching with his absence.

Naomi’s knuckles unfurl, stroking soft through the tangles she wrought. What a sight he is, his hair in utter disarray, his mouth a mess of blood and lust and her. An ease settles into his graceful features, not so different from that quiet contentment he wore while leaning into the light by the window. His eyes simmer with it, lips drawn in a soft smile.

Without warning, his grip tightens. Naomi stifles a huff of surprise as she’s taken down, marble kissing smooth to her spine. A pale hand cradles her head, cushioning her fall. In a blink, he’s hovering over her bare body and dipping down to catch her in a fever of a kiss. It’s a needy, sweltering latch of lips, tangy with her own sweetness as much as his.

“Here?” She purrs to the seal of his mouth.

She lets him feel the way the word alone makes her body tense. Waiting. Wanting. Their bond curls with it, crooked and beckoning in his head. The way his fingers bent a few moments before, buried in the heat of her.

A long breath passes out through his nose, his eyes sliding half shut. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. But his cheek turns by just the barest hair, and Naomi’s attention follows after his.

Music flutters, breathy, off the black and white keys. The piano stays a pretty picture of perfection, among the deaths little and large they’ve littered throughout the ballroom.

His teeth trace the angled edge of her ear. Naomi keens with the sting of it as she’s swept from the floor.

“There.”

She’s caught in his kiss again as he carries her. One swipe of his tongue to where he bit her lip before has her quivering. Has her a world away from the one still around them. Vaguely, she’s aware he’s somehow rid her of her gloves and shoes. She hears a dull, wooden clatter, and then a resounding thud. The piano plays on, but it's muted.

Astarion doesn’t bend her over the way she mused. Instead, he seats her on the polished wood of the piano’s closed lid. His hands leave her back to push her knees apart, scoop beneath them, and pull her spread legs to the strain trapped in his trousers.

Naomi grins, her fangs snagging his lower lip as he tries to part from her. Astarion’s answering groan is rough like a scrape of sandpaper. It leaves her mouth raw, tingling, alive with a pulse that plays to the tune of his pleasure. She wants more of that noise. More of the happy purr it pours into her head from his. One drink of that sloppy, slap happy look on his face sates her more than blood ever could.

You’ve given me everything, he told her, once. But now, all she can think is more. Take more. Take everything.

Astarion grinds his hard length against her in answer. The sweet friction makes sweeter music in their mouths as Naomi moans with the motion, too. Still, there’s far too much fabric for her liking.

Astarion’s fingers make fast work of it. He unlaces his pants only enough to free his cock, parts from her only enough to push her back and clamber up after her. Then, he’s on her again like a second skin. Her cunt throbs with the press of his cock, the tip of it wet and seeping against her thigh. She tries to fit a hand between them, to wrap her palm around his girth and feel with her hands, not just her head, how badly he has to have her. Astarion doesn’t leave her space for it.

It’s not his hands that put her flat on her back, against the body of the piano. It’s the sudden swell of his adoration ballooning from his brain to hers. The weight of his affection pins her there beneath him, utterly paralyzed, as the music flows on under both of them. He’s brimming with it, and it washes over her in a wave, a cup overflowing.

His curls hang down in his eyes, wild with the look of a man starved. “You’re going to scream for me, little love,” he says with the slightest slur. The thought smears from him to her, burning in the back of her mind like a pull of liquor. He brushes her snarled hair back until it tumbles over the piano’s edge, white over white. “I’m going to make you. And I want to see that beautiful face when I do.”

“Please,” she starts to say.

But barely any of it makes it past her lips. Astarion never leaves her wanting for more than a moment.

“O-Oh,” she stammers instead, as her soaked cunt splays to his cock sliding home. Astarion pushes out a moan as he pushes into her. He hooks her legs with his arms, folding them up and back.

“That’s my girl,” he pants, forehead heavy against her own. His thumb circles her cheek, a feather-light counterweight to the thickness he seats inside her. He watches her intently, fixated. Hypnotized. “My good, good girl.”

Kisses and praise tumble from between his teeth, down her cheek, to her throat. Naomi’s head rolls back while she relishes the wet, smacking mantra that’s the mess of them. He’s not tender with his tempo. He doesn’t have to be. You could ruin me. I’d let you ruin me, she thinks again.

And how beautiful he is, in ruins with her. No more composure. No more restraint. Sweat streaks his brow as it bends beneath his focus. All there is is the blend of them, the slow rock of the piano underneath them, and the scattered, stranded pieces of a melody left in their wake.

It could break. The thought cracks through her, through them, with the wooden whine of the piano legs taking the shift of their weight. Astarion crushes her worry beneath the thrust of his hips, any notion of it lost to the head of his cock pressing just where it needs to make her see stars.

Naomi bites down on her own lip, grounding herself in fleeting pain and the tang of blood. He’s not even touching her clit; he doesn’t have to. He floods her with how it felt when he did, when his tongue rolled against the swell of it, just the tip of it teasing that sensitive little bud. How she felt to him, so silky and slick in his mouth. How amazing it feels to finally fuck her, to take what’s his and have her take him so, so tightly.

He could ruin her. Snap her like the creaking legs of this instrument, not long for this world. It would be almost as effortless as the way she spreads for him. But instead, Astarion fills her. Every shift prods the crown of his cock against the sweetest spot inside her cunt.

Naomi’s fingers claw into Astarion’s back as he bucks wildly. Tears sear in her eyes. The tell-tale pressure in her pelvis builds near-blinding.

“Scream for me, darling,” he growls against her neck, out loud this time.

Her cunt throbs with his command. But she doesn’t heed it. Astarion lets out a low, steaming hiss.

“I said scream, dear,” Astarion says, his velvet voice edged in warning. The sparks of his indignation spit flinty in her head alongside a flicker of excitement at her defiance.

He wants to feel the rush of her own power with the spasm of her cunt as she comes undone. He wants her magic to spill into him as he spills his seed inside of her. Wants to taste it with the rest of her. If Naomi was nothing to him, she’d still be the siren; it’s not a power Astarion gifted to her. It was hers without him. It is her. And she’s his.

“I might break the glass,” she whispers, wary of anything louder.

“Oh, my love,” Astarion says tenderly, a husk in his throat as his hand wraps loose around her neck. “You can break everything.”

Astarion kills her hesitation. She’s never felt more whole. She feels holy, feeling her own perfect squeeze around his cock, feeling herself fucked in his body and her own. Feeling what she does to the man who already has everything, but will never have enough of her.

When Naomi screams Astarion's name, it’s everything else in the room that shatters.

Glass crashes from the windows. They burst one after another in quick-fire succession. Astarion buckles against her body with the sudden, decisive snap beneath them. His hips jerk, rutting erratically. Warmth spurts into her with every shudder down his spine, every pulse of his cock.

He cuts her cry with his teeth buried in the crook of her neck. Naomi clings to him as her cunt convulses. It’s the bite that takes her apart, knowing he tastes his own name in her throat and thinks--

Mine, mine, mine.

Naomi’s head drops limp. Astarion’s grip on her neck gives way to soft circles stroked against her cheek again. Mine, she thinks, as his ruby eyes watch her keenly, awash in the soft glow only she knows.

Even after Astarion stills, the room spins dizzy from her upside-down view. She blinks it all back into place, but some pieces won’t fit together again so easily. They’re far closer to the floor than when he slipped inside of her. The piano legs splay at odd, splintered angles. The floor glitters with glass like crystalline teeth, ready to bite the heels of any who dare tread their hall.

Astarion slides out, and she shivers with the fade of his warmth. He sits up, his gaze sweeping the shattered windows, his smirk smug and wet with her. “Perhaps all of the Gate heard you. The gardener did for certain.”

Naomi sits up, too, leaning forward and letting his shoulder take her weight. Her forehead comes to rest against his collarbone. She finds an easy smile while relishing the way his heart still hammers his chest. She did that, in multiple senses. Absently, he tucks the hair sticking to her cheeks back behind her ears.

“I guess I’ll have to kill her,” he adds, chipper. “I suppose, for now, we can spare all the others.”

“She’s already dead enough, dear,” Naomi sighs.

A tiny, discordant note of sadness plucks in her chest, among the pleasant haze settling over her. Astarion stiffens against it, as if she reached out and pinched him. She doubts he’d be so eager to slay one of his spawn for the same crime of hearing her come for him.

The gardener is hers, of a sort. Not a vampire -- Naomi can’t make those. Before Naomi sang her awake again, the gardener was just a sad stack of bones collecting dust in a closet. Now, she rattles along to Naomi’s tune, keeping the flowers trimmed to her liking.

“I suppose you’re right,” Astarion murmurs. His expression softens with fondness, the sort that’s rare to surface unless they’re alone, but never fails to make her chest light and fluttery. “Are you tired now, pet?”

“We stayed up all night,” Naomi laughs faintly.

“Hm,” he nods with a pitying frown. “Let me see to you, my treasure. Don’t you move.” His lips curve, coy, as his eyes flicker back to the wrecked windows. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

He saunters back to where his coat lays, now tattered. He returns to settle it around her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“You’re such a staunch defender of my honor,” Naomi says dryly, even as the leftovers of their lovemaking start to seep down her thigh.

“Ha,” Astarion shakes with a rolling laugh. “I rather think I’m the thief of it. You were quite the heist. It wouldn’t do to have some debaucherous upstart happen by and think they can make off with what’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t let them live through it.”

“Aw,” he clicks his tongue, “you’re such a romantic.”

Astarion leaves her with her legs strewn over the broken piano, relacing his trousers as he goes. Glass crunches beneath his heels. He stops to ring the bell near the door. A few seconds later, it creaks open a hair. She catches his curt commands to the servant she can’t see on the other side.

“...yes, here, in the ballroom. My consort and I wish to take in the view, and see none of you.”

His lesser spawn are quick to make good on their orders. The door swings open once more a short time later, and in floats a claw-foot tub without another soul to be seen. Magic clings, cloudy, beneath the porcelain belly of it. A pleasant, floral scent curls with the steam from the water within. The tub drifts to the heart of the ballroom and settles with a soft thud before the yawning window panes.

Astarion returns to her as her toes touch the ground again. He frowns tightly, eyes narrowing.

“There’s debris scattered everywhere, my sweet,” he says, saccharine even in reproach. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

Naomi sniffs a laugh, picking her path carefully. “If I can’t handle a little sharpness here and there, it’s a wonder how I’ve managed to handle you.”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion says, catching her wrist with an effortless flourish. “We were made for each other. By each other, really.”

And Astarion’s made up his stubborn mind that she’s not to take another step, it seems. With a soft huff, he sweeps her off her feet all over again, strides to the tub with her legs dangling over his arm, and delicately deposits her there.

Water laps at the tub’s edges, splashing as she situates herself. She shrugs from Astarion’s coat, shucking it away to join all the other debris they don’t have use for. Heat tingles across her skin, like little, loving nips of Astarion’s teeth. Naomi eases back into the burn of it as the sting settles sweetly.

Astarion rids himself of his shoes and trousers. He dips a foot into the tub, bidding her to make way for him with a gentle nudge. The water ripples as he settles in behind her. With a satisfied sigh, she sinks back against his chest and deeper into the furling warmth.

The ballroom overlooks the well-kept gardens behind the estate. The hedges are high enough, only a spyglass might have hope of spotting them both bare. Under Cazador’s reign, the garden was little more than a sprawl of weeds and webbed ivy. Now, fountains babble between the blooms of pink and blue and violet. If she strains, she can catch the weave of music in the trickling flow, like tinkling wind chimes.

A soft breeze tickles her ears, sending gritty glass and ash scattering over their floor. Astarion clenches a soft sponge in his grip, wrings it out, and starts to scrub her skin in slow, deliberate strokes. Naomi’s head tilts back beneath his tender care, every rub taking the tension from shoulders.

She turns after a time, and he starts to wash blood from her front, while she wets her hands and works the redness from the white of his hair. Her fingers linger along the slants of his ears, rubbing delicately, until she catches that satisfied hum in his throat that leaves her lifted, floating on the buoy of his happiness.

The water never cools or clouds; magic still swirls in the steam, even long after they’re free of blood and grime. Astarion rakes hand through her hair, his fingernails digging pleasantly against her scalp.

“You are divine as ever,” he rumbles. “Rest now, pet.”

And she does, slipping soundly into a trance, soaked in sunlight and lavender oil with her lover wrapped around her. Only Astarion sends her to the sort of rest that reaches her soul. His presence is sanctuary.

It’s his disquiet that wakes her suddenly. He still strokes her hair just as gently, but he levels a hard-cut stare out over the garden, his lips set with the same stoniness.

“No one will ever take you from me,” he murmurs, as if to himself.

“As if they ever could,” Naomi whispers back, reaching up to graze the edge of his jaw.

Heavens help the fool who tries. Any who dare to hatch such plots, to harbor such ill will in their Crimson Palace, will find themselves laid to rest with all the others. Their enemies’ gravestones are just bricks in their empire, every one of them laid with blood in the mortar.

Astarion dips his head down, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it might be fun to see them try. In the meantime, my love, I’m of a mind to keep you spread for me for the next tenday.”

Naomi laughs. The sound echoes around the otherwise vacant room.

Astarion’s grin only grows, the tips of his fangs sharpening his smile. “Did I say something funny, dear?”

His lips crush down against hers in a kiss consuming.

#ascended astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #vampire ascendant #vampire lord astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #my writing #naomi tavriel

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zanarkandskylines · 1 month

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Hello! I was wondering if I could request a balugou or Todoroki x reader helping reader grieve their father. Their father died unexpectedly, and even years later they haven’t processed grief a lot yet. Like some days they’ll be fine, then something will remind them of their dad, or randomly in the middle of the night they’ll cry when they realize they lost their father. If not, totally okay! Love your work so so much!

omg anon, absolutely! i (unfortunately) have a lot of feelings about grief and have no problem talking/writing about it as i find it therapeutic. i super appreciate the respectful approach and thank you for reading my work! supporting my little fleeting thoughts brings me more warmth than you know. 😭💗 i am gonna choose bakugo over the two of them since i don’t think i could do todoroki well enough, hope that’s okay!!

lost in the echo 『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader ⇢ it all happened so fast - one moment, your family is happy and healthy. the next? it's broken and in disarray, loss shattering your whole world. in a world of super heroes, people often forget just how painfully human they are when sickness strikes.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ heavy talks of grief (parent's passing), talks of self harm/substance abuse (drugs/alcohol), talks of cancer/illness & hospitals | major emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, sprinkles of angst about being perceived while grieving, soft bakugo, reader’s best friends are bakugo and mina, bakugo’s secretly crushing on reader, “happy ending,” characters are 18+ ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; -1.5k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

☆ inspired by "neon grave" by dayseeker ☆

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just a general note to please, please mind the tags for this fic. it's not dark content, per se, but it deals with heavy subject matter (descriptive self destructive habits & harm) and could be upsetting for some. much love for you all! ♡

───

“This party sucks,” you whine, leaning on Mina’s shoulder. “Monoma’s drinks are weak as hell.”

Mina pats your head and exhales dramatically. “Might be time to call it a night, babe. It’s almost midnight, and they’re weak cause you’ve downed six cups.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

The two of you had been invited by some of the class 3B students to hang out in their dorms over the weekend, AKA drink and bullshit the night away. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at any of these parties, but nowadays? You were looking for any way to silence the nagging voice in your head. Mina tagged along, mostly to keep an eye on you since none of your other classmates attended said parties. She’d been on her phone most of the night, texting and scrolling in the corner as you knocked back drinks.

“Who the fuck are you texting?” Your words came out acidic, but that wasn’t your intention. The alcohol was beginning to sink in, stirring the emotions in your chest. It was Russian Roulette, you never knew which one would be loaded in the chamber and ready to fire.

Mina clicked her tongue at your tone, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

Ah, that was code for “I’m texting Bakugo updates on how you’re doing because we’re worried for your wellbeing.”

Logically, you knew they just cared about you. You’d had a tough couple of months - nothing crazy, just that your dad fucking died and tragically lost his battle against cancer.

The news wasn’t easy to hear, let alone digest, the longer it sat with you back when your mom first broke the news. Cancer. One of the most gut churning words in any language. The sheer mention of the term is enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end, especially when it’s applied to someone you love and care about.

Fluorescent orange bottles lined your kitchen counter back home, multitudes of medication prescribed to keep your dad in a haze while his body decayed. They taunted you, a constant reminder of the grim reality your family was stuck in. You’ve memorized the smell of the hospital, too - that faint stench of death mixed with cleaning supplies. Late nights in the glow of vending machines of the ER lobby and long days spent listening to nurses drone on about hope and miracles. They even had the gall to give you and your mom false hope, declaring he was in remission one week before he died.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories, pissed off that even in your buzzed state of mind, all of it was crystal clear. Mina gives you a quizzical stare, realizing that you haven’t heard hear her talking to you the last few minutes.

“We’re leaving,” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. You tug it from her grasp and chug the rest of the drink in your hand, tossing the now empty cup to the floor.

“Fuck off, Mina! I know you’ve been talking with Katsuki all night. You two treat me like I’m a fragile little bitch!” You yell, waving your arms for dramatic effect. At this point, she’s used to your combative outbursts. She knows you’re grieving, but goddamn, she wanted to smack the shit out of you when you got like this.

“Suit yourself, I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, she leaves.

Mina actually walks out and leaves you.

You storm to the door, throwing it open and pursuing her down the hallway of the Class B dorms.

“Minaaa!” You call after her, slurring the latter half of her name. She’s got her phone to her ear as she cocks her head to the side, acknowledging she heard you but isn’t listening.

You’re not proud of what you’re about to do.

Sprinting to catch up to her, you take the phone out of her hand from behind, the screen blinking the caller ID briefly - Bakugo. A sinister cackle escapes you while bringing the phone to your ear.

“Katsuki fuckin’ Bakugo. You and Mina are the fucking worst. Why can’t you just let me self destruct, huh?!” The rage bubbling in your guts was too strong to ignore. The metaphorical gun was loaded, and unfortunately for Bakugo, he was the target.

“You treat me like I’m some weak-ass bitch. Just ‘cause my dad fuckin’ died doesn’t mean shit! I’m not a goddamn child, Katsuki!” Your voice cracks over the word ‘child.’

“Treating me like a kid is rich coming from you, ya know. Hah!”

Mina attempts to grab the phone from you, but fails when you duck out of her reach, dancing down the hall away from her. Bakugo still hasn’t said a word back to you.

“The guy who treated sweet little Midoriya like shit for no reason, bullied him over a fuckin’ non-existent grudge. You’re the goddamn poster child of a shitty friend.”

“Y/N, ENOUGH!” Mina screeches, ripping the phone from your hand. She turns away from you while raising the phone to her ear once more.

“I’m sorry Baku-“ Mina’s interrupted by soft snivels. She could tell he tried to hide it - you made him cry.

“Hey, she’s just drunk and being an asshole. She doesn’t mean it,” she whispers. “Get to bed, I’ve kept you up long enough.” Mina hangs up the phone and turns her attention back to you. She doesn’t say a word - her eyes tell you how disappointed she is with your actions.

You quietly sulk behind her back to the Class A dorms, reveling in the guilt of your actions.

───

Monday comes along and you still haven't said two words to Bakugo. Admittedly, you're ashamed of yourself and don't have the courage to apologize right now. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a small tiff, it always goes back to normal. You’re sure this’ll pass and he’ll just talk to you again…right?

But he doesn’t.

Classes wrap for the day and he leaves homeroom without looking your way.

───

The silence in your dorm room is starting to drive you mad, not having a decent enough distraction for the endless loop of thoughts circling in your mind. You wander into the bathroom and lazily open your medicine cabinet. A set of translucent orange bottles occupied the bottom shelf - you’d taken them from home, stealing your dead dad’s various medications. A pang of guilt stabs you in the gut while you shuffle through them. You had zero idea what most of these pills even did, but if it got you high? Who fucking cares.

You’re about to dump a few in your hand when something stops you, dropping the tablets onto the floor.

What the fuck?

“Dad…?” You speak aloud, knowing full well how fucking insane you sound for thinking your father’s ghost smacked the medicine out of your hand. As expected, there is no response, just dead air. You scurry back to your bed, grabbing for your phone. Instinctively, you’re about to click Bakugo’s name when your eyes fall on the time: 11:56PM.

You call him anyways.

After a few rings, the line picks up and you hear shuffling before he verbally answers.

“…Hey.”

“Uhh, hi. Sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come to my room?”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Door's open.”

The line ends with a click.

A minute or two later, your dorm room door cracks open, Bakugo stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the bed and sits beside you.

“Y’okay?”

“I almost took some pills. Something stopped me, though and I didn’t.” Shame creeps through you as you're acknowledging the destructive behavior for the first time in months.

“…I’m glad you ditched ‘em.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

Bakugo inhales deeply before shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. ‘S fine.”

Obviously, it was not fine.

“Katsuki, seriously. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you here right now.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t say shit like that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.”

The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Bakugo speaks up first. “Why’d you call me over? Y’coulda told me about the pills over the phone.”

Your eyes begin to well with tears, overcome with emotions that you'd been withholding for too long.

"I miss my dad," You say between hiccupped sobs. "I don't know what to do...it fucking hurts."

Bakugo doesn't hesitate to pull you close, awkwardly throwing his arms around you. "I know."

Everything comes pouring out of you, every single emotion that you've shoved away into the imaginary closet in your head since the funeral. No matter how many times you tell him that he can leave, he doesn't. He stays with you the entire night, laying beside you as you cry yourself to sleep.

───

When you stir awake the next morning, Bakugo's arm is securely hooked around your waist as he's peacefully resting behind you. You give him a light shake to wake him up.

"Mornin'," he grunts, sleepily opening one eye. "How ya feelin'?"

Honestly? You felt...okay.

"Good, I think. Better than I have in awhile," you say, rolling over to face him. "Thank you. I'm sorry again for-"

Unexpectedly, his lips are on yours, silencing your apology. You let out a squeak before melting into the warmth he offers, tugging on your waist to pull you closer to him. He breaks the kiss long enough to mumble, “Forget about all that. Just shut up and kiss me, dammit.”

You can’t help but feel guilty about his affection, how you didn’t think you deserved it after treating him so horribly. All Bakugo wanted to do was be there for you when you pushed him, and Mina, away.

“But…why now?” You ask while pulling away, perplexed at how casual he’s being about all of this.

He just shakes his head, grin plastered on his smug face. “Cause I don’t like seein’ you cry. And Mina may or may not have blabbed about a certain drunken rant ya went on about me.”

What the hell was he…oh. Ohhhh.

Dammit Mina!

“What did she tell you?!” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands. Bakugo grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your flared cheeks as he laughs.

“She didn’t say shit, but now I wanna hear it.”

You smack him playfully in the arm, huffing as you turn over. He scoots up and lays his head behind yours on the pillow.

“I care about you, idiot. That’s why. Do I need another reason?”

You close your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you grab his hand, moving back to snuggle closer to him.

“No. That’s good enough for me.”

The pain in your heart momentarily subsides and offers you a glimpse of hope.

Things will get easier, no matter how dark it is.

💥 tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #bakugo x reader angst #katsuki bakugo #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #tw: grief #mha bakugo x reader #my hero academia bakugo #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

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beautifulhigh · 8 days

Note

Hi hi!! It's unfair of me to ask you to actually write the full essay on the rwrb red room kiss scene, but I saw your tags and am very interested in at least what the main thesis would be, if you feel like sharing!! No worries if not 😊 Have a good night/day/whatever time it is where you are!

The last few weeks have been, well. They've Been™ and I'm going to use this wonderful ask to dust off my overthinking tag and write a meta post on this movie, these boys, and then hope more than three people care what I have to say.

The Red Room kiss scene is Iconic™ and Important™ and in this essay I (really) will discuss agency, framing, and why it always had to be Alex to be the one to make the move.

While book!Alex takes book!Henry to the Red Room, here he's waiting. Bundle of nervous energy. He doesn't know what to do with himself, how to hold himself, how to present himself when Henry turns up. He's backlit in this (which is a theatre technique, I see you Matthew) but it also adds to the drama and tension of the scene.

The (in)famous painting of Hamilton, about to bear witness to things.

We jump cut between Alex trying to find... something. Here he is realising his shirt has come slightly undone and he wants to try and be somewhat presentable. At least for the moment. But it speaks to Alex's physicality in this scene because he is shifting and moving so much that his clothing is shifting. There's also an interpretation that this suit represents the formality of the situation - the Prime Minister's dinner, at which he (the First Son) and the boy he wants to kiss (the actual Prinec) are supposed to be front and centre and the picture of formality.

He's coming undone in this moment because he's the First Son and he's waiting for the Prince, but he's also Alex and he's waiting for Henry.

Ah, yes. The casual lean against the wall. Fancy seeing you here, your Royal Highness, what do you think of the menu? But there's grounding here too. When you're spiralling focusing on a physical point of contact between you and and something can help ground you.

It's also a defensive stance in a way. You shall not pass, I'm not moving. Alex is claiming space and territory and he's controlling it.

"How dare you fucking kiss me, run away, ghost me, then walk into the White House like nothing changed." This is closed off, defensive, protective - probably why it's the quickest of the poses to be dismissed. He's got his back against the wall like he's scared or ready to come out fighting. And, in a way, both of those are true.

Book!Alex is mid-crisis on his bisexuality and while he logically knows he is very much into Henry, he's not gotten to the point of turning theory into reality.

Movie!Alex is more chill about being into guys, but this attraction to Henry is confusing him. He hates the guy. He wants to punch him in the mouth. With his mouth.

(What? That's literally book canon: and if he weren’t already hell-bent on destroying Henry’s infuriating idiot face with his mouth right now, he would consider doing it with his fist.)

Casual lean against the table, less staged and jarring than the extended arm against the wall.

But then Henry walks in and Alex stands to attention and he is... rapt. He is calm and composed and he is focused. We're back to the back-lit position which helps frame him with a near-halo effect.

And you can see that he is relaxed. There's a slight drop in the jaw, his shoulders are sloped and rounded. Because none on what he was trying to convey before matters. Henry is here.

"Look" he starts with - he's expecting a fight. He's expecting Alex to go off on one for the kiss, for the liberty taken. Even if Alex is willing to forget that it ever happened, take Henry's secret to the grave, Henry gets one thing right in this.

"my behaviour was appalling"

Because it was. Look, Hen, I love you and I'm with Alex in the feeling that I will go to war for you to see you happy and safe. But you did kinda kiss him without consent (harsh reading) and you did ghost him without apology (soft reading) and for a boy raised in the Royal Household that... well... it's pretty much top items on the Very Bad Behaviour list. He did not act with decorum or dignity, he did not act in the way that his status and position demands.

(That's OK, Hen. Because the boy under the linden tree wasn't the Prince. It's OK to not be him, and Alex is going to spend the rest of his life loudly loving the man, not the prince.)

"Shut up, stop talking." // “Shut up, shut all the way up, oh my God,” Alex hisses

Because even though both versions of Alex said he wanted to talk to Henry, in the moment that's the last thing he wants to do. And actions speak louder than words, right?

Why it had to be Alex

Henry needed to make the first move, that New Year's kiss, because there needed to be something to make Alex realise that this thing he's feeling is very much reciprocated, and that Henry wants it too. If Alex had kissed Henry for the first time on New Year's Eve/Day then it would have been too much of a leap. Alex, at whatever stage of his bisexual journey, has no clear idea of Henry's orientation at that party. It's only with retrospective viewing that he realises that Henry was low-key flirting, and that the sharing of these deeply personal moments wasn't just a "two bros in a hot tub" thing.

So Henry had to kiss Alex first but then he had to run because there was no way that the mostly-closeted, private Prince could accept that a) he fucking kissed a boy, b) said boy is the one he's been dreaming of since Rio/Melbourne, and c) the boy kinda?? kissed him back?? Henry will have been having a low-grade anxiety attack all through January (and trying to reclaim some control with the date he went on in the book).

In this moment, Alex knows all the pieces. He's played this logic game to its conclusion and he knows all the facts. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into him. 3) He's into Henry. That last fact is something Henry isn't fully aware of (or at least can't bring himself to believe it to be true) and so it has to be Alex.

He doesn't want Henry to say something that would get in the way of this, doesn't want to hear any kind of pre-prepared speech of "yeah, we're better off as friends" that always happens when the couple get too close to getting together too early in the run time. Alex is full on shutting that down, shutting Henry up, and he gives as good as he got.

"Wait a minute" // Henry’s too shocked to respond, mouth falling open slackly in a way that’s more surprise than invitation, and for a horrified moment Alex thinks he calculated all wrong, but then Henry’s kissing him back, and it’s everything.

And this time it's both of them. Framed between Hamilton and the books. The American political trailblazer and the literary. In the space between? There's our boys.

Alex's hand is on the wall again and he's controlling the space but Henry is very much in it. He's protective but in a different way.

In one frantic motion, Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes Henry onto it so he’s sitting with his back against—Alex looks up and almost breaks into deranged laughter—a portrait of Alexander Hamilton. Henry’s legs fall open readily and Alex crowds up between them, wrenching Henry’s head back into another searing kiss. They’re really moving now, wrecking each other’s suits, Henry’s lip caught between Alex’s teeth, the portrait’s frame rattling against the wall when Henry’s head drops back and bangs into it. Alex is at his throat, and he’s somewhere between angry and giddy, caught up in the space between years of sworn hate and something else he’s begun to suspect has always been there. It’s white-hot, and he feels crazy with it, lit up from the inside. Henry gives as good as he gets, hooking one knee around the back of Alex’s thigh for leverage, delicate royal sensibilities nowhere in the cut of his teeth. Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants. He drops a hand onto Henry’s thigh, feeling the electrical pulse there, the smooth fabric over hard muscle. He pushes up, up, and Henry’s hand slams down over his, digging his nails in.

The sensibility of the suits is on its way out, they're not the First Son and the Prince. And Alex is taking the lead.

Agency

Henry is somewhat passive in this - although he is fully engaged - but it's Alex who set this in motion. Pun intended. Alex who pushed him against the wall. Alex who pushed him up onto the table and hiked his leg up around his hip, Alex who is driving in. Because Alex needs Henry to know that third fact. The one he's worked out, the one that Henry is just catching up with. This isn't payback, it's not some prank. Alex Wants™.

There's a scene I'm writing in my current FirstPrince WiP in which Alex and Henry have a charged moment. And Henry wants to act on it but those princely sensibilities get in the way and he can't let himself be led into doing something that could be used against him. If Henry made all the moves then the accusation of him taking advantage, of the inherant imbalance that comes with status and titles and positions of power. So in the scene, and here, Alex takes the lead. There's no way anyone could accuse Henry of forcing Alex into doing this.

(Good luck getting Alex to do ANYTHING he doesn't want to.)

So Alex gives and Henry takes and he gets the memo very quickly.

Fact number three. Alex wants this too.

Then Movie!Amy walks in on them (which IMO is way funnier than Book!Amy hissing through a crack in the door) and these idiots try to act like they weren't redefining International Relations a second ago. Alex is by the painting, Henry is by the books. They've gone back to their sides and they're playing at being interested in what they find there. But they're not, it's all for show, someone who gives a passing glance at this point sees this part of them, this side of them The First Son and the Prince: the politician and the literary.

They're both backlit, they're in line even if it doesn't look like it, Alex is no longer on Henry's right, and they're both trying to act like the people that others could see them as.

But we - and they - know better. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into Alex. 3) Alex is into Henry.

4) Everyone is on the same page now.

(Also I know Casey talked about seeing the Red Room on a White House tour and so that's why they included a scene in that room in their book, but I cannot ignore the fact that red = love and passion and danger and fire [the counter to the water motif] and it's a warm colour designed to excite.)

#jen answers stuff #overthinking jen is overthinking #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #meta post #long post #henry fox mountchristen windsor #otp: history huh

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moremaybank · 9 months

Text

THIS LOVE — j.m

pairing actor!jj maybank x actress!reader

chapter summary jj faces the possibility of his scandal going public. then, he ends up reconnecting with you after five years. what happens when the two of you end up as costars for your upcoming romantic comedy?

warnings mentions of a sex tape, mentions of domestic abuse (jj and luke), language, violence, sexual content/eventual smut, anxiety. ex best friends to lovers, fake dating. this will be updated as the story develops. [2.2k]

author's note just a little post of the first chapter to build the hype! hope you enjoy and decide to continue reading ♡︎ also special s/o to @mvybanks and @jjsbank444 for beta reading and quelling my nerves <3

recommended listening second chances by kiana ledé ft. 6lack

this love — the complete playlist ;; the masterlist ;; the tag list

❝ CHAPTER ONE ❞

Threesomes are fun. Foursomes, however, are a blast.

At least, JJ Maybank seems to think so.

“You have three different women threatening to release your sex tape. It’s not a good look for you, JJ.”

Well, he does when they don’t include a secretly-filmed sex tape and three fame-thirsty girls trying to ruin his career for a quick cash grab.

“It’s not like they’re three separate tapes. We were all together when it was made,” JJ smirks.

Josh, his manager, lets out an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t make things any better, and it does nothing to help our circumstances. You need to clean up your act and you need to start doing it now, Maybank, or you’re going to lose everything.”

JJ rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time in the fifteen minutes that this meeting has been going on. It’s bullshit, really. He’s one of the hottest actors in Hollywood right now. He’s youthful, dashingly handsome, and loaded. The world is his freakin’ oyster, and he deserves to have some fun.

“You’re supposed to keep up your whole approachable, goofy, boy-next-door image intact, and having a ménage à…quatre, is not the way to do it.” my publicist, Andrea, chimes in. “If you aren’t careful, you’re going to lose your entire fanbase. You’re one of the most universally-liked celebrities in the business, right now. If this gets out, you’re going to have to kiss your crystal clear reputation goodbye.”

“So, let’s just pay ‘em the hush money. What do I care?” JJ says, taking his cap off and running a hand through his unruly strands.

“And you’re fine with forking over ten million dollars? Just like that?” Andrea scowls. “What if they take the money and still decide to release the tape? Or demand more?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Andrea. Now, are we done here? I’m supposed to meet my co-star for my new movie in an hour and I’d really like to get in another — how did you put it? Ah, yes. Ménage á quatre — before I go.”

Josh runs a hand over his face, “Do you care about anything anymore?”

JJ ignores his statement, putting his hat back on and sitting up in his chair. “Can I leave?”

He can tell that Josh wants to scold him or make some witty remark in return, but he bites his tongue.

“Go. And, please, for the love of all things holy, do not screw this up.”

If JJ had a penny for every time he’s heard that, he’d be richer than Jeff fucking Bezos.

Y/N

“And last but not least, this is your dressing room. You’ll have your own trailer, but this is more for when we’re actually on set and in between takes.”

You grin as you look around the luxurious room. There’s a huge vanity in front of you, as well as some plush couches, and you don’t fail to notice the large mini-fridge in the corner of the room or the flat-screen TV plastered onto the wall. There’s a window as well, letting in the California sunshine you’ve come to love and appreciate beyond your beliefs.

“Wow, this is…amazing. I can’t thank you guys enough for this opportunity. I’m so grateful, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. You’re the very reason we wanted to do this project in the first place. If anything, we’re the lucky ones,” Derek, the director states with a grin. “So, you ready to meet your co-star, or what?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m nervous, but, beyond excited.”

Derek leads you back into the hallway, and you make your way to one of the offices.

“I think you’ll love him. Word is, he comes from the Outer Banks just like you. Who knows, you’ve probably met him in passing.”

Wait…what? He’s from OBX? No. No way. He couldn’t possibly mean—

“Y/N Y/L/N, meet the esteemed JJ Maybank,” Derek states, his proud smile growing sizeably larger than you thought possible.

It doesn’t matter how excited he is, though. All you can focus on is your heart beating out of your chest and the ringing in your ears. You see Derek’s lips moving but you can’t hear a thing. Your eyes are caught on the blonde in front of you, and all you can think about is how painful it is to look into those oceanic eyes after five years.

It’s equally as painful as it was the last time you saw him. If not, more.

“Uh— Y/N, I…it’s— it’s been a while,” JJ stutters out.

It’s all too much. Seeing him here, in front of you. His eyes locked on yours, his hand reaching out to touch you but retracting once he notices the fear in your gaze. Your eyes flit over to Derek, whose face has a more than confused look painted over his features.

“Excuse me, Derek, I— I need to get out of here.”

You speed into the restroom, locking the door behind you and setting your hands on the counter. Your chest tightens, and your breathing speeds up. She shudders, trying to shake it out as the room starts to feel like it’s closing in on you.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You can do this. Don’t let him get to you,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror. “It’s just…it’s just JJ.”

You feel the tears start to well in your eyes and you watch as they overtake their boundaries and roll down your flushed cheeks. You’re quick to wipe them away, though, refusing to admit defeat.

“Stop,” you tell yourself. “It’s been five years. You’re better than this.”

You aren’t sure if the words are true to your heart, because all you can think about is how the boy you loved from the ages seven to eighteen — the one who betrayed you and shattered you into a million pieces — is now your co-star for the romantic comedy you’ve just been cast in.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot, you think. A lot could go wrong.

JJ watches as you make your way back into Derek’s office, shooting him a convincing smile.

“My apologies, Derek. Girl troubles,” you say.

JJ still knows you well enough to see that you’re hoping Derek will believe your bullshit excuse.

“Oh, uh, no worries at all, Y/N. I completely understand. I’ve got three daughters at home,” he speaks, trying to assure you that everything is fine. He places this hand on JJ’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “JJ, here, was just telling me how the two of you have known each other since you were in elementary school. It must be quite the hell of a reunion, huh?”

You plaster a fake grin onto your lips, “One hell of a reunion, indeed.”

JJ refuses to look at you, his ex-best friend, and vice-versa. Truthfully, he’s terrified to catch your eye again. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to form a coherent sentence if he does.

“Well, I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

Derek exits his office, and you and JJ are left in complete and utter silence.

God, JJ missed you so much. He’d seen you making headlines just as you always said you would, but he was always quick to click away, deciding not to dwell on everything he’d lost. But this, now, seeing you right in front of him as gorgeous as ever…it made the walls he’d worked so hard to put up begin to crack.

Then again, you’d always had that effect on him.

Even after all these years, he was still a complete wreck over you. You held his heart in the palm of your hand and he wasn’t even sure if you knew it.

Your scent was still etched into his mind, still buzzing deep within his senses and his memory. You smelled of the saltwater beaches of the Outer Banks. The notes of coconut from the shampoo he’d recognized still lingering in the tresses of your hair. The sweet hints of vanilla that clutched to your skin are prominent as ever. The combination sounds like a lot, and it was, but not in the overpowering way one would assume. They blended into one heavenly and unique fragrance.

She smelled like her, he thought. She smelled like home.

To be honest, JJ wasn’t sure whether or not this was a reminder he wanted to welcome with open arms, but either way, here it was. Here you were. After the way he’d hurt you and destroyed your relationship forever.

After he lost himself.

Funnily enough, you’d always had a way of popping up whenever he needed and longed for you. He never even had to speak a single word. You just always knew. And you might not have guessed it now, but he needed you more than he ever had before.

JJ scratches his brow with his index finger. “So, um…how have you been?”

“Don’t. Just…don’t.”

“Y/N, please,” he pleads. He almost wants to get down on his knees and beg. You can’t even look at him, and that hurts more than he could ever put into words.

“No. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m fine with being professional while we film this movie, but I’m not getting into this with you. I’m not getting into any of it.”

JJ remains silent, choosing to nod because he’s not totally sure he can find his voice.

As much as he hated to let the thought in, you were a walking reminder of every bad decision he’d made since he left the island and never looked back. He looked at you, and he saw two things. The first being the crinkling of your bright eyes when you smiled. The melodic laugh he could pull from your lips at a moment’s notice. Your hair blowing in the wind as you stuck your head out the window of John B’s Twinkie. And the second being the look of despise and pain on your face as you confronted him. The mascara-stained tears flowing down your heated cheeks. The way you walked away from him and deliberately chose not to look back and steal a second glance at him.

How was he expected to act all suave and cool when you were right there in front of him, actively choosing not to even look in his direction?

Truth is, he doesn’t think he can.

JJ glances at his phone once he leaves the production office still shaken by the day’s events.

2 Missed FaceTime Calls from John B

JJ swipes to the right and watches as his phone rings, awaiting his best friend’s answer while he plops down on the steps in front of the building. The line rings for a few moments before he hears shuffling through the speaker, followed by John B’s face appearing on his screen.

“Hey, man. how was your meeting? Your new costar as hot as we imagined?”

JJ tears his eyes away from the camera, his lip sinking between his teeth. His complexion pales, and John B picks up on it.

“Jeez. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Because I have,” JJ deadpans. He’s still reeling from your presence, and it shows.

“Huh?”

“It’s Y/N…my costar is Y/N.”

“Ooh, yikes,” John B responds. “Did she nut-punch you?”

“It’s not funny.”

JJ tugs his cap off as he always does when he’s stressed, and his fingers card through his hair. He tugs lightly at the strands as he tries to alleviate the tension building up in his head.

“She couldn’t even look at me, John B. Her eyes were on me for all of five seconds before she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. Then, when she came back, she looked at everything but me. She barely even let me speak to her.”

“Well, to be fair, you guys didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms.”

“Yeah, JB. I know. Thanks for the reminder, as if I didn’t fucking know that already.”

“All right, look. Did you fuck up majorly? Yeah. But the love the two of you had…it ran deep. It doesn’t just disappear without a trace, especially if things are this heated after five years. I think you can get her to forgive you.”

JJ scoffs, “Yeah? And how do you suppose I do that?”

John B gives him a knowing look through the screen.

“You have to tell her the truth, JJ.”

“Funny.”

“J,” John B mildly scolds. “The reason she hates you right now is because you weren’t honest with her. The JJ she knew before that night never would’ve treated her the way you did. Buck up. Tell her.”

The call disconnects, and JJ is left staring at his screen with a tense jaw. He knew John B was right. He was always right. But how on earth was he expected to muster up the courage and tell you the truth about that night? He doubted — no. He knew it’d be impossible to convince you to hear him out.

Then again, he also knew he had to try. Because he couldn’t stand to be around you nearly every single day for the next few months, knowing that you wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire.

jj tag list: @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @pankhoeforlife @cecesrings @wildflwrdarlin @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @topper-thornton @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @pinkpantheris @julesmendoza890 @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @madelynie

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hollyhomburg · 7 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt. 60)

(sneek peak)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, graphic violence blood, suicidal actions

W/c: 11.5k

A/n: ah i'm hoping i'll finish this in time! if not T-T i'll be attending my cousins wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before. also that photo of hobi? in the moodboard? tell me why it makes my heart FLUTTER!!!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

~-~

Chapter 60: Glass Slippers

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too <3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

Coming Saturday September 23rd at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustment Below)

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lumienyx · 4 months

Text

happy to surrender

Pairing: Astarion/m!Tav | Rating: T | Words: 1,208 | Tags: Established Relationship, Romance, Banter, Fluff, Humor, sorcery as a replacement for the tadpole mindlink, no beta we die like Dribbles

Summary: A snowflake lands on Tav’s lips, and Astarion melts it with a kiss. “My love.” Astarion’s gaze is so tender, his voice so fragile Tav fears that it may break. “These last six months of happy memories are a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.”

A/N: inspired by a bunch of things: Astarion's epilogue confession ofc, @snowyarts' post contrasting it with his earlier much more grim dialogue, and when I finally started on the New Beginnings prompt for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge, I ended up with this🥺 Hope you enjoy💙

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut ↓

The canvas of the night stretches wide above them. Astarion watches it, entranced, ever in awe of each new starscape of Faerûn they uncover during their travels.

Tav is mesmerized in turn by the subtle play of moonlight on Astarion’s skin, in his eyes. The light snowfall grazes his hair, the flakes lingering just a bit longer than usual before melting away. Tav leans closer into the one-armed embrace, pressing his lips against Astarion's neck.

“Any new constellations you can show me?” Tav follows his lover’s gaze to a messy cluster of stars.

Astarion chuckles. “Of course, my sweet. If you remember all the ones from before.”

“All of them?” Tav frowns, doubtful. “You have a lot of faith in my memory.”

“If you can quote that bawdy poor excuse of a romance novel we stole from Gale, then surely—”

“Anyway.” Tav ignores Astarion’s smirk, pointing to where he spots a familiar, blade-like pattern, tracing it with his finger. “That one. Jassa’s Dagger?”

“Wrong.”

“Oh, well, the Sword and the Dagg—”

Astarion cuts him off with an exasperated kiss, reaching out to run his hand through Tav's hair, a pleasant shiver tingling in its wake. “Try again. No daggers there, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” Tav skips through a couple more guesses. “Well… Esetar?”

“That isn’t even visible right now, darling.” Astarion caresses his cheek then, gentle and almost placating. “Not that I don’t find this positively adorable, but do you even listen when I tell you about them?”

“I remember most of our stargazing lessons ending in me seeing stars for a very different reason.”

Astarion groans. “And I remember how I’ve told you repeatedly that your questionable attempts at wordplay leave much to be desired.”

“This one was good,” Tav insists, “one might even say stellar—”

“Stop—”

Astarion struggles out of the embrace only half-heartedly, and Tav doesn’t catch any trace of tension on his face, so he doesn’t break the hold. “Made you smile,” he says, with no small measure of satisfaction.

“I am not,” Astarion says, “smiling,” he tries and fails to suppress it.

“But there it is.”

Tav presses his lips to Astarion’s, feeling the grin widen. He relishes the soft, languid movement of his lover’s lips as they fall deeper into a kiss that warms Tav even more than the sphere of heat he’s keeping up around them. There’s only a hair’s breadth between them as they pull away, and Tav finds himself lost in Astarion’s eyes all over again.

“There.” Tav points to another patch in the sky, not even looking. “Mystra’s Circle.”

“Why,” Astarion gasps in mock surprise, “truly a remarkable catch! The only circular constellation out there—how did you guess?”

Tav weaves a few spheres from the heaps of snow behind Astarion, all ready to strike. They all miss, of course; Astarion leaps out of his arms to dodge them just in time, and Tav barely manages to halt the spell before the projectiles end up hitting him instead.

“Ugh.” Tav lets the spell dissipate ina burst of snowflakes. Gone is his only chance to catch Astarion off guard. “I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Darling,” Astarion laughs, “do I have to remind you of the score of our snowball fights?” He rushes back into the radius of the heating spell and into Tav's begrudging embrace, though Tav probably doesn’t look as annoyed as he’s pretending to be.

“You may win the battles,” Tav grumbles, “but you won't win the war.”

“If you ask me really nicely, I doubt I would have any choice but to concede defeat.”

“Ha! Since when are you happy to surrender?”

“I am happy with you always,” Astarion says.

And it’s those simple words that give Tav pause.

There is no hint of jest or deceit in Astarion’s eyes. Only warmth and tenderness that Tav is still getting used to seeing there, in place of the once constant fear and pain. The bright specks of light reflected in them form constellations of their own against the ruby red. So beautiful, impossible to look away from, even as Tav feels heat rushing to his cheeks and his heart rattling his chest at an alarming rate. A reaction he hasn’t quite grown out of, even after all these months by Astarion’s side.

“I—well.” Tav blinks. A nervous chuckle follows a bashful smile. “Really?”

A snowflake lands on Tav’s lips, and Astarion steals it with a kiss before it melts.

“My love.” Astarion’s gaze is so tender, his voice so fragile Tav fears that it may break. “These last six months of happy memories are a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.”

Tav’s heart skips a beat, perhaps a couple. He doesn’t know what to answer, doesn’t know how. He can’t quite believe it, still. The pain yet rings sharp from the words Astarion had said a longer while back—that not even Cazador’s death would make up for the all-consuming darkness, that never-ending pain.

But Astarion slides into his mind now, magic weaving itself in the familiar spell Tav spent months developing so they could both have this—mind-to-mind emotions and wordless connection—once their tadpoles were gone. Astarion’s feelings are clear as day there, somewhere in the in-between of Tav’s own tangled thoughts and emotions—

—it's as if there's a bright, simmering hearth in his chest, and it feels like home, you are home—

—Tav’s own face obscures his vision, one memory that mirrors thousands more like it, and when he sees that face smile, he feels—Astarion feels like it lights up everything around him, bringing to life something deep inside him that he thought long forgotten, and he feels his lips follow suit to mirror mine—

—touch is less like small bursts of electricity, like it used to be when they barely knew each other but knew enough to want one another and every touch sparked desire—

—now, the touch of my hand is grounding, your embrace feels like a warding spell, a Sanctuary that keeps at bay whatever danger and harm the world yet harbors, kissing you completes me like two split pieces of a whole finally joining—

There’s waves upon waves of joy radiating from Astarion’s thoughts, there's the shadow of his embrace that Tav can feel even as he’s lost in the connection—and all of a sudden, it’s too much to bear being parted, and so he closes the distance between them. They kiss deeply, softly, it’s all kinds of perfection Tav doesn’t ever want to let go.

Tav is quite happy to surrender to Astarion, too.

Astarion’s lips are cool and yet the kiss spreads warmth all over Tav’s body. Like the familiar surge of sorcery running through his veins, only better, because Astarion’s touch is more magical than any spell Tav could ever hope to invoke. It’s all the elation of a life bound closely to his, of their life began anew. A life they get to live, against all odds, together. Their minds are still entwined, and Astarion’s coalesces into the single thought,

I love you.

And the emotion of it is strong enough, overwhelming enough to make Tav weak in the knees with how good it makes him feel, how completely it overtakes him. And Tav—

~~~

thank you for the read! I’d appreciate any comments and feedback💙

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added):

@spacebarbarianweird @satanicspinosaurus @tallymonster @tragedybunny @ellekhen

#BG3HolidayFluffle23 #astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #lumi writes #astarion fanfic

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southsidestory · 4 months

Text

Chapter 1: Grounds for Harassment

Mickey knows he’s a piece of shit. It’s easy to forget sometimes, like how piss in the carpet stops stinking after it’s settled, but every now and then he’ll think something so awful that he remembers, Oh, yeah. Piece of shit.

That happens when Mandy says Ian Gallagher messed with her (and not in the good way). Because Mickey’s first thought is that Mandy is lying, and his second is thank fuck.

Getting to hunt down Ian is the best thing that’s happened to Mickey in months.

“What he do to you, exactly?”

“I’m not giving you the gross details!” Mandy shouts.

She leans against the front door, blocking the handle, as if he’s stupid enough to go inside the house.

He’s been locked out for a week. A whole fucking week of stealing food from corner stores, taking a leak behind buildings, and sleeping in icy alleys. He can’t even remember what he did to set Ronnie off this time, but his uncle must still be angry if Mandy won’t let him in on the sly.

Mickey sniffs back snot, then spits on the porch. He hopes he’s not getting a goddamn cold. “Will you at least let me in after I beat the shit out of Ian?”

Mandy tugs on a lock of her hair. “If Uncle Ronnie will let me.”

“That’s some award-winning gratitude right there.”

“You got to know that I want to let you in,” Mandy whines. “But if I do he’ll kick me out with you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a moron.” Mickey adjusts his coat and scratches his cheek, moving dirt from his skin to under his fingernails. “Guess I’ll just keep smelling like a pig sty.”

He’ll probably knock Ian back with his stench, won’t even have to hit him.

“If it makes you feel any better, the water’s turned off, so you couldn’t shower anyway,” Mandy says. “Nobody paid the bill again.”

“You look squeaky fucking clean for a girl who’s got no running water at home.”

Mandy picks at her cuticles. A tell that means shame. “I showered at a friend’s house last night.”

“Ah. That code for ‘fucked a dude in exchange for basic hygiene’?”

Mandy grabs a crumpled beer can off the porch and lobs it at him. Mickey catches it and passes it between his hands. Left, right. Left, right.

“Maybe I should hit up Angie Zhago. Trade a ride on my dick for a bath.”

And a bed. Speckled bruises cover his right side from the cracked pavement and gravel he slept on last night.

“Are you going to beat up Ian or stand here all day with your thumb up your butt?” Mandy asks.

Mickey turns away, shoots his sister the bird over his shoulder, and hurries down the steps.

He could go to the shelter for a shower and a hot meal, but he’d rather stay freezing, filthy, and hungry than deal with a bunch of homeless assholes. Half of them are plain batshit, most would steal his stuff if he doesn’t take it into the shower with him, and plenty are actual rapists (unlike Ian) who’ll think he’s an easy target because he’s young and short.

No shower, no food. Time to find his brothers, or maybe some cousins, and get down to business.

Read more of If You Have a Problem on AO3

***

AN: I swore to post the first chapter of If You Have a Problem before the end of the day, and I did it! (barely lol)

Tagging some kind folks who expressed interest on my teaser posts

@poisonedquiver @marstheterrible @5ammi90 @freitasgst @darlingian @ianandmickeygallavich1 @definenormalifyoucan @jadejabbers @ifconfusionwasaperson @machinegunbieber-blog @callivich @tsuga-of-mars

Many thanks to everyone who supported my teasers, as well as my wonderful betas @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich <3

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfic #If You Have a Problem #IYHAP #my fanfiction

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aikatoru · 3 months

Text

YOU

Dazai x female reader

Warnings: psychological, manipulation, mature themes, minors do not interact, flirting, mentions of oral sex, written in first person pov.

Word Count: 787 words

Dividers are by myself.

Summary:

Dazai has always been an observer, always silently watching, it’s fascinating to him.

Humans no matter where they come from are somewhat…predictable.

And just when he thought things couldn’t get more interesting, in you came.

Hello, you.

Note:

I know I kept saying that I was gonna write this and post it and I kept procrastinating but decided to just post it as it is with a possible continuation…if and only if it does well!!

Tagging: @planetoshun and @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

The sound of rain drizzling, hitting against the window panes was a soothing one when you know you’re inside and saved from the harsh cold.

Most people would argue that the rain was poetic, romantic even…I myself would say that those people are nothing more than stupid optimists. Always looking for ways to delude themselves into thinking that there’s a brighter side to everything—how exhausting.

The rain was nothing more than just water pouring down on everyone, dampening plans and ruining everyone’s day—at least those were my thoughts until the door bell chimes as it opened indicating someone had entered the rugged old bookstore…and in walks a young woman in her early twenties…one can tell that she was young from how her doe eyes look around in curious wonder, a sort of innocence that’s lost on most people nowadays…

“Ah finally some place warm!” You exclaimed closing your wet umbrella, getting the carpeted floors wet making Mr. Fukuzawa, the owner of the bookstore grimace behind the counter.

“Leave the umbrella by the door!” Croaked the old man.

“Right…” you mumbled as you leaned the umbrella by the wall right next to the door before walking over to the counter.

“Welcome to Lupin bookstore, where our books are as old as Mr. Fukuzawa over there…which is ancient if you ask me!” Mr. Fukuzawa harrumphed at the smart little introduction and I simply blow him a kiss before turning back to the young lady, “So, what can I do you for belladonna?”

You giggled with your eyebrows raised, “Oh well aren’t you the smooth talker.”

“Well one of us has to be otherwise there’d be no customers.”

“Ah yes, I see…so I’m looking for a book…”

“Well, you’re in the right place!”

You smiled at that before speaking again,

“…you won’t happen to have Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen would you?”

“Ah a Mr. Darcy fan are you?” Looking you over, you really don’t seem like the reading type…a snug top with a mini skirt and a long coat…you seem like the typical girl to go and hang out with girls your age and talk about boys.

“I’m sorry who?” You asked oh so innocently proving me right…

“Mr. Darcy? The gentleman that Elizabeth Bennet goes crazy over?” I explained only for you to seemed more confused, “…she’s the protagonist of the book…”

“Oh yes of course!” You nodded your head in mocked understanding, “Yes…well see, I haven’t actually read it…I’m hoping to get it as a present for a friend, I’m heading over to her birthday party after this.”

“Ah yes so it is universally acknowledged that one who’s invited someone to a party must be in want of a gift!” You look at me puzzled, and I smiled shaking my head, “Nevermind.”

“Would you like a first edition? Or a normal print?”

“Why do they both look so old?” Was your question that had me holding back a laugh.

“This is a used bookstore Belladonna,” I explained calmly, it’s not your fault that there’s nothing going on in your pretty little head.

“It is?” “Yes.” I nodded and that had you looking incredulously at me. “Ah damn, no offense but I was hoping to get a new one!”

I smiled, “None taken Belladonna but might I say that a first edition is far more valuable.”

“It is?” You asked with wide eyed wonder, God you were precious!

“Yes, shall I wrap it up for you?”

You nodded almost to willingly, changing your mind, “how much is it?”

“A 100 dollars,” I say as your jaw drops.

“That much?! For an old used book?!” You exclaimed in shock, “can I get a discount?”

I sucked in a breath, putting my hands on the counter and watching Mr. Fukuzawa going to the back through my periphery, he was definitely not going to be happy about this, “Tell you what…I can knock off 20 dollars IF…you give me your number.”

I watched as your cheeks turned a bashful shade of red, “Oh…I can’t give it to you…see I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Oh what misery! Alas, for we can never be!!” Doing an over the top whip of my head back.

There was a pause until you said, “…so…can I still have the discount?”

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t know…what have you got to offer me?”

“I…I…could recommend this place to all my friends and family.”

I contemplated for a moment before saying that it wasn’t good enough.

“I-I could…suck you off.” Your voice going low into a whisper.

Unable to hide my reaction, the corners of my lips tilted up into a smile.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

To be continued…

#aika writes 🤍#aikatoru blog #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem reader #dazai bsd #dazai fanfic #bungou stray dogs

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hangmanssunnies · 1 year

Text

Good Comes In 3

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: You and Jake navigate what it means to spend six months apart. Then, when he does come home, you two have to evaluate precisely what feelings you have for each other and also what a future together could mean. You just aren't sure he will ever forgive you for starting a puzzle without him.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 34K

AO3 Link

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Abuse (Implied), Slow burn, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, Rejection, Drinking, Arguments, Yearning, Deployment, communication, Fertility problems, miscarriage (discussed), menstruation (discussed and lightly described), close female friendships, Depressive episodes, PTSD, roommates to lovers, love confessions, hyper-specific!Jake, Neurodivergent coded! Jake. Please let me know if I missed any for this part; I know it is a long one.

An: Unfortunately, this last part was too long to post altogether here on Tumblr. So I have included the first half here, the rest can be read on AO3 though. My first reblog of this here on Tumblr has the other half as well. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you all for loving this version of Jake. There were so many things I wanted to include and finish off for these two. While I couldn't include everything, I hope you enjoy what I did.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

"Jake looked tired. Has he told you how he's been sleeping?" Marlee asks you curiously while chatting with you on the phone. The question causes your stomach to roll in a deep dive, and it takes you a moment to find the composure to respond.

"No, I haven't heard," you manage to tell her. Setting down the piece of fruit you had been about to eat, you lean back against the kitchen counter.

"Ah, well, will you ask him about it whenever you next talk? He wouldn't answer Javy or me about it when we asked."

"You and Javy are joined at the hip, practically the same person sometimes. Do you find that shocking?" You ask Marlee teasingly. Marlee chuckles at your comment. Her smile betrays her true feelings, though she likes how in sync she and Javy are generally considered.

"We are sometimes." Marlee concedes but then says frankly, "But even when Javy had his individual call with Jake, he wouldn't say. And you are the only other person I can imagine him opening up to,"

"I'll mention it next time I talk to him," you manage to say. It would just be one of the many things that you were supposed to be talking to Jake about on his deployment. It was easier to go along with their assumption than to flay your chest open and let the hurt you felt pour out.

Sometimes it's better, easier, to keep the kind of pain you felt to yourself. Bundled close and protected. To expose it would just make it hurt all the more. The idea of anyone, especially your closest friends, knowing you weren't important enough, or you had scared Jake away, or made some other mishap was mortifying. How could you go about explaining what had transpired? You weren't sure you could explain it. Also, Javy and Marlee had plenty of other things and people to worry about without having to add you higher on their list than you were already placed. You felt bad each week when one of them called you to check in begging, sometimes demanding that you hang out with them.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later then, babes. I love you!"

"I love you too, Marlee," you say, giving her the sweetest, kindest tone you can muster up. You end the call and walk over to the chalkboard in the kitchen.

Jake normally would draw seasonal decorations on it, but you had cleared it to be blank for notes months ago. The only thing on the board is a list you had titled: things to talk to Jake about. You add 'sleeping habits' to the bottom and frown. Reading through the list makes tears prick at the back of your eyes, and a lump forms in your throat. You hold the eraser poised for a moment, ready to trash the entire list, but you don't manage to follow through and drop the eraser, letting it fall to the ground.

You walk through the house, checking the locks and turning off the lights. The sadness and frustration you feel in you is still bubbling as you pass where Jake had unceremoniously left the large Juniper chest. You glare at it just like you do every night.

The morning Jake left, he'd woken you up with his thumb tracing your pulse point. His soft mostly lidded eyes trained on you, neither of you said anything just laying there quietly memorizing the moment. Neither of you could bear to get up until after the third alarm rang. The sun still hadn't crested the horizon when Jake went to shower. While he was occupied you stole one of his large Navy shirts that had been washed so many times it was soft. You are reluctant to leave his room, but make your way to the kitchen starting some breakfast and Jake's morning tea. You were just adding the dollop of honey he likes when he came downstairs, fully dressed and ready to leave you.

Jake thanked you sweetly, with a kiss pressed to your cheek. In the same breath he tried to steal the whisk out of your hand. You danced out of way holding the whisk out like a sword to ward him off. He had quickly grabbed the masher from the utensil jar and brandished it in response. Amusement filling his features. After a small chase around the kitchen which included a small clash of utensils, Jake got his way. You loved the way Jake's eyes crinkled and how charming his dimples and smile lines were. It was a look you almost always got anytime you let him do things for you. Jake had still let you help though, asking you to toast the sourdough bread, while he whipped the avocado, goat cheese, and honey together. Once it was the constituency he liked, Jake spread it on the toast sprinkling some sea salt on top. He made one for you as well, but you had already started cooking three eggs for him, and didn't really have an appetite. After Jake ate, you spent every minute waiting for Coyote to arrive for pick up wrapped tightly in Jake's arms.

"There is one last thing I need before I go," Jake had said.

"I can't give it to you this time," you said muffled, trying hard not to cry on his whites.

"Just one smile." Jake pleaded with his large warm hand lifting your chin so he could stare at you intently again.

"No, Jake." He frowned at your answer, eyebrows pulling tight together.

"I suppose I've reached my limit on things I can take from you." Jake puffed out with a quiet sigh. The tip of Jake's nose had dragged softly across your forehead before pressing a soft kiss to the center. He lingered there, breathing you in.

"Thank you for everything, my sweet," Jake whispered quietly.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you tried to pull him as close and tight to you as possible again. Jake allowed you to hug him, but he didn't relax into the embrace like he normally would have. He was almost stiff in your hold, but one of his hands traced slowly over your back in a soothing motion. When Coyote's headlights had inevitably shown through the frosted window on the door, Jake carefully detangled himself from your arms. He lingered though practically trembling.

"I can't do it," Jake whispered, leaving his forehead pressed to yours.

"It's not optional, and there isn't anything Hangman can't do. Let alone something you've done before," you reassured him. It didn't seem to work as he tensed up more.

"Promise me you'll be okay," Jake had begged you. You had nodded yes in response, saying the word would have tasted too close to a lie. Jake's nose nudged yours and he asked again. The second time was much closer to a desperate demand, "promise me."

"If you be safe," you had compromised, wanting to savor every second ticking by that you would never get back. This last time you would be in the same space sharing the same air, for an undetermined amount of time. With a resolve you knew you didn't possess, Jake mouthed the words goodbye he was so close that his lips brushed yours as he did so. With a shaky inhale, Jake stepped away from you. His first two steps hadn't hurt so much, but the third as he exited the front door took all the air with him, including the bit trapped in your lungs. It was a sense of instant emptiness you had never experienced before. Everything you wanted to do seemed impossible when you couldn't even breathe. So there was no running after him for one more stolen moment, no collapsing against the floor, sobbing until your throat was raw, no more reassuring green eyes you could look to for comfort.

The hollow feeling that nestled into you was hard to find your balance with. You had thrown the lock on the door and stumbled through the house, ready to retreat back into Jake's bed. Well aware his scent would be gone sooner rather than later, you were determined to imprint as much of it to memory as possible. You are blindsided by pain shooting up your foot as you unexpectedly stubbed your toe. Cursing and looking down you realized there was now a new piece of furniture. Jake had left a hand made juniper chest Jake left sitting in the area between the living room and dining room. On top was a small note card with a watercolor of two very detailed puzzle pieces.

You stare so hard at the water colored pieces trying to parse their meaning the focus of your visions started to blur. The rapid blink forced tears to lubricate the area. However, when there is one tear there are others quick to follow. Just as a tear had splashed against the edge of the card you recognized the duplicates of the last two pieces you and Jake had double tapped into your last puzzle. On the back of the card stock was the drawn design of the chest, with all of Jake's neat measurements noted. You traced over his neat handwriting, and you were quick to quell your disappointment not finding more. That confusion and disappointment was impossible to ignore when you had gone to see what was inside and it was locked, the latch refusing to open.

Now, after 6 and ½ months of radio silence, the chest taunted you. His entire deployment, there hadn't been a single word to you. Your only source of information was occasionally hearing from Coyote and Marlee about how Hangman was doing. And there was the memory of him, a large empty house, and a locked chest that was too heavy for you to move.

You kick the side of the chest as you walk past it. It has become a tradition for you – this small abuse of the furniture while pacing before bed was a small soothing habit that helped you work some of your worries out. Once the feeling of missing Jake had settled into a dull, steady pain there was room for anger. You were furious and the only thing you had to take it out on was this beautiful work of craftsmanship. Unshockingly, the chest had been well made – because why would Jake make something that was easy to take your anger out on. He couldn't even give you that small concession. Even though you aren't as angry anymore, kicking the chest has become a part of your nightly routine.

The chest didn't just bother you because it was locked or a surprise gift you hadn't asked for. It also bothered you because of what it was made from. The juniper wood Jake used didn't match the boards he used for the puzzle table, which was a more common light juniper. The boards for the chest were such a deep red it looked purple. Jake made it from one of the logs that you had helped him strip. Seeing the chest felt like a reopening weeping sore; one bleeding from a formally treasured memory that was nestled close to your heart.

…

Saturday mornings were always a wild card with Jake.It was the one day of the week you could never be 100% sure what his plans were. There were staples you could expect like his morning run, but after that who knew? Sometimes he would have plans to see his friends, other times he had a project, list of chores, plans with his "little brother", manuals to read or some other all day activity. He liked it to be all day. So Sometimes you liked to just lounge in the living room waiting to see what he was going to do before making any plans of your own.

"Hey, I'm going on a drive and run some errands. Anything you want me to pick up?" Jake says to you when he comes down the stairs one Saturday morning.

"Oh, can I come with?"

"Sure, if you want. It's going to be boring though," Jake warns you.

"No, it won't," You protest, standing up and stretching. "I'd rather be with you. As long as you don't mind me tagging along?"

"Yeah, of course, sugar. I never mind when you tag along." Jake says with a wide smile.

"Well, what's the errand so I know how to dress?"

"I'm going to meet an old friend."

"Oh my god. Please be less ominous Jake"

"What would you like to hear, sugar?"

"Who exactly are we meeting?"

"We are meeting up with my friend, Jess."

"And?"

"And, and, and," Jake says, twirling his hand around the air before dramatically pointing to his watch. "We are already 4 minutes behind our schedule. I'll tell you right now that this is cutting into our farmers market time." "Farmer's Market is on the list?"

"Of course it is sugar. And so is Target," Jake says in his ‘duh-voice’ that you actually hate, but also you love because it reminds you how easy this is supposed to be. How it's not supposed to be a second thought. The things you like are included and planned for without you having to ask.

You are scrambling up the stairs to get ready when Jake calls after you. "You don't actually have to rush!! I'll make up time on the road."

"You know I don't support your excessive speeding Jake!" you call back, grabbing what you thought you would need.

"Bring socks for your heavy boots!" When you make it back downstairs Jake is tapping his pen aggressively against a notepad.

"What am I going to need boots for?" You ask him suspiciously while going through your items.

"Do you want car snacks? I packed some, and we can always stop to pick something else up." Jake asks you glancing up from his paper.

"We don't have to have snacks; I know you don't like eating in the truck."

Jake just shrugs and opens the door to the garage for you. "It's not a big deal, I'll add the car wash to my list for tomorrow."

"I also got your truck slippers so you don't have to wear your boots for the drive," Jake tells you. It's so sweet you want to grab him in a tight hug. You squeeze your hands tight instead, waiting for the urge to pass. Jake helps you up into the passenger side of the truck. Just as he said, the soft fuzzy blanket you like, and the slippers Jake got you are laid out waiting. Jake helps you out of your boots and into the slippers, setting them in the back seat for later. Once you are fully settled and buckled, Jake closes your door. He checks that the garage door is locked before jumping in the truck himself.

"Was I quick enough for you not to aggressively speed?" you ask when Jake gets into the driver's side and checks his mirrors.

"I would hardly call it speeding," Jake complains.

"It's a number above the speed limit sign. Therefore, it's speeding." You say, explaining it.

"I literally fly ten times as fast as car speeds. Well, more like 9.9 but still when you round up. It's ten." Jake responds,

"That is no excuse to be going 120 miles an hour, Jake." You say while rolling your eyes.

"I'm just saying. I am perfectly capable of controlling a fast vehicle," he argues.

"That's fine, and I am not invalidating that. However, you know just as well as I do, that everyone else doesn't have that same ability."

"You are so sassy!" Jake teases, clearly deciding to let the faux argument go.

"I'm the sassy one? Sure," you say sarcastically, drawing out the word. However, you also decide to let it go. Instead you enjoy the start to your drive, getting music going and adjusting the temperature controls until they are just right.

"So," you say after a bit, drawing out the word. "What are we driving to do?"

"It's nothing," Jake responds with a shrug.

"Really? Nothing is the justification to wear the work boots you got me?"

"You can't live with a bit of mystery, can you?" Jake asks, but there is affection laid into his words.

"No," You concede with a joking sigh, "which is what makes you so infuriating sometimes."

"I do strive to live as a man of mystery," Jake says amused.

"Oh really, is that what your next move is? Retire, so you can become an American James Bond?" You tease him.

"I'll admit it. You got me figured out. What gave it away?" Jake asks jokingly but not as quiet as bright as before. You shoot him a look, but his smile is still firmly in place.

"Honestly?" You ask him hesitantly.

"Yes Ma'am. They do say honesty is the best policy."

"It's the fact that you refuse to grow facial hair. I'm convinced that it's because you want to save that for a disguise." You say, almost giggling trying to picture Jake with a beard or mustache. You expect Jake to laugh too, but he doesn't. After a slightly too long pause, he forces out a strangled laugh, and you realize that you've misstepped somehow.

"Talk about it or leave it?" You offer trying to sound natural and keeping the pushiness you felt gnawing on you out of your voice. Jake takes a deep measured breath, exhaling out slowly through his nose. He drums a staccato on the steering wheel before responding.

"Can we leave it please?" Jake eventually requests.

"Facial hair or James Bond?" You ask, wanting to clarify.

"Both, please."

"Can do."

"Thank you," Jake breathes quietly. Then he offers his right hand to you across the center console. You only wait a moment before slipping your fingers to slot in with his. He squeezes your hand affectionately and you both seem to take a deep breath to try and ease some of the uncomfortable tension. Jake's thumb tracing softly against your skin.

"I'll tell you if you really want to know," Jake says a few miles later while his eyes stay trained on the road. You think about whether you really want to press him for details. As much as you want to know, you don't want to ever force Jake into sharing something with you if he isn't completely comfortable with it.

"Nope, it's fine. Keep your mysteries, Hangman, I'll find out eventually." You finally respond, pulling Jake's hand up to press a kiss to the back of it, making sure he understood your innocent intentions. He chuckles good naturedly and his hand flexes at the movement, tightening its grasp on yours when you set them on the middle console again.

"That's good. I appreciate you."

"I appreciate you more," you tell him sweetly, though you mean it very genuinely. Jake pulls his eyes from the road to flash a heavy frown of disapproval your way.

"I don't think that's possible," Jake says with passion.

You just shrug, letting the conversation drift to the next topic, just enjoying the drive with Jake. It is a while before Jake pulls off onto a private road that leads up to a massive barn, and you still don't really have any clue where you are or why. Jake throws the gear into park, the truck in park and shoots you an almost gleeful smile.

"Jake, where are we?" You ask him again.

"Just my friend's place," he answers.Then,while reaching over and patting your cheek affectionately, says, "You, my sweet, can stay here."

"Do I have to stay?" You ask him nervously, checking the mirrors on either side of you. You know once Jake leaves the truck and into the barn you won't be able to see him anymore. The idea of being alone here, somewhere you don't know, even in the truck makes you uncomfortable.

"I just didn't want you to have to walk through all the mud," Jake says.

"It's okay," you tell him reassuringly. "That's why you had me bring my boots, right?"

"Yes, but you just look snug as a bug. I didn't want to make you move," Jake replies.

"I don't mind, it will be nice to get out of the car. And I want to meet your friend."

A moment later Jake is opening your side of the truck and helping you into your boots, tying up the laces for you and ignoring your protests that you are perfectly capable of doing that yourself. Jake helps you out of the truck and holds your hand, helping you walk over the uneven ground carefully. You can smell it before you see it. The fresh woodsy scent permeates the air so heavily that you can nearly taste it.

Subverting your expectations, Jake does not lead you to the large frame equipment sliding doors of the barn. Instead, he leads you around the nearest side where there is a small typical sized door. Opening the door, Jake reveals a huge workshop. Half of the large barn space is filled with massive logs, planks, boards, and other cuts of wood. The other half is full of various projects, a giant tool bench, and shelving making up an impressive workspace.

"Oh wow," you breathe taking it all in. You look at Jake and he is positively gleeful, maybe even more excited than a kid in a candy shop. His grin is wide, looking around and leading you a bit further into the workspace. A soft Jingle plays in the air, penetrating the otherwise quiet atmosphere when Jake closes the door behind you.

"Seresin, that better be you!" A voice calls out from the back of the barn.

"And it if ain't?" Jake calls back playfully.

"Then you should know, I've got a gun I ain't afraid to use, and you're trespassing."

You almost let go of Jake's hand in alarm, but he gives you a squeeze reassuring you. He leads you a little further into the warehouse, and a middle aged woman comes in through one of the open doors.

Jake lets go of your hand to give her a warm hug. She hugs Jake back lightly before pushing him away with a playful shove.

"It's good to see you too, Jess," Jake grumbles, dodging out of the way of her playful punch.

"Hi, I'm Jess. It's nice to meet you." She says turning to you and offers you a warm smile

You introduce yourself a bit shyly, but feel more confident when Jake's hand slips back into yours.

"Have you known this pest for long?" Jess asks you while gesturing to Jake.

"Jess, be nice. I am literally your favorite customer and the son you never had," Jake complains.

"Paula and I were actually very conscious in our choice not to have children, Jake," Jess says, clicking her tongue at him.

Jake pouts and you can't help but giggle a little at the sight. "I've known him for a bit, yes," you respond.

"Well, even if he is annoying, you've found yourself a good man," Jess says. You wait for Jake to correct her. When he doesn't you start to do so yourself but Jess has already changed the subject and started walking to the other side of the warehouse with a gesture for you to follow.

"So, I got them fresh this week. And just like you requested, I'm letting you have the first freshcut pick, even before me." Jess explains to him.

"I knew you loved me," Jake gasps grinning wide. Jess huffs out a breath at Jake but doesn't deny Jake's accusation which just makes Jake grin wider. Y'all walk to a pile of grey logs stacked close to the large barn doors.

They start a conversation that completely goes over your head, something about soil conditions, chain lengths, altitude, sap, and other details you didn't know impacted wood. You take this opportunity to look around the shop, and appreciate all the different types of wood and tools. You have only slightly lost focus when you suddenly realize Jake has said your name and is looking at you expectantly. He quickly picks up that you missed the question though, so he repeats it gently.

"You should pick our first one, Sugar. Juniper was your idea."

"Oh, I just pick one?" You ask looking at all the logs. Besides the fact they were different widths they all looked pretty much the same to you.

"Yes, Ma'am," Jake confirms. He leads you to the ends of the cuts and starts talking about grains, and the potential knots and twists that would be in the wood when you cut into it. Jess leaves y'all to decide, saying she'll go grab her forklift to make getting the selections into Jake's truck easier. Jess declines Jake's offer to drive with a snipe about how he isn't forklift certified. Jake's muttered comeback about how he could be forklift certified if he wanted makes you roar in laughter.

You eventually pick a trunk that overall doesn't look too special, but Jake said it looked like it would be easier to work with because of how sticky the sap was. Jake makes two other selections and also insists on helping Jess get the wood into his truck.

Jess invited you to an early lunch where you met her wife Paula. Paula had clearly been prepared to host and spent the whole meal fawning over Jake. While Jess might deny treating him like a son, Paula certainly leans into it, and you can tell Jake doesn't mind from the glowing smile that stays on his face the whole time you're at their home.

As promised Jake had planned time to stop at the farmers market, and an outlet mall, that included a target, where two do some light shopping. Finally picking up Jake's drycleaning on your way home. It's a fun day, and you were thankful you had decided to tag along.

"So Jake, are these for what I think?" You ask him excitedly when you have finally made it home and he is pulling the logs into the garage.

"It definitely might be. After all, this is fresh Juniper."

You stare at the grey logs of wood with their mossy, splintering bark that has already made a mess in the garage. Examining the wood you try to compare it with the Juniper you have seen in the past.

"I didn't think it was that color," you tell Jake scrunching your eyebrows together in contemplation.

"Well, the wood isn't actually grey, just the bark," Jake explains. You watch as he pulls two pairs of work gloves from the workbench. He jerks the larger pair on, you realize with adoration that he had gotten a pair in your size. Jake doesn't hand the gloves to you, rather just leaves them out as an offering if you are interested in participating. The casual no pressure offering makes your chest warm and stomach flutter. Biting your lip you try to contain the grin threatening to split your face before joining him at the workbench and sliding the gloves on.

Grabbing two chisels, he throws one on his belt. Then he picks up alo with two hammers, hanging both those on his toolbelt as well. You start to get distracted by the way Jake's tool belt sits on his slim hips.

"Yes. Jess managed to expedite it for us in a special order. I'm so excited. You see, in the spring the sap warms up and it runs through the tree so it allows us to do this –" Jake explains to you. He angles the chisel into the bark, working it in. With a controlled hit from the hammer the flat head sinks in a little bit deeper. Wiggling the chisel makes the bark displace, allowing Jake to grab it and pull it downwards. A long section of the bark comes off before splintering and breaking off the log. The action reveals the light colored, bright, 'green' (fresh) wood underneath.

"I can tell you've never experienced stripping before," Jake says cheekily while wiggling his eyebrows at you. You feel a bit amazed at the beautiful gem that's been revealed to you.

"What?" you gasp.

"Stripping is what this process is called," Jake answers while letting out a full bellied laugh, going so far as slapping his own leg. You roll your eyes at him but can't help your smile and excitement on joining in.

"Some people strip wood with a power washer, but I think that's lazy. On top of the laziness, it prematurely ages and strips the wood of its natural oils, color, and saps! If we take our time though, we can get a longer lasting, vibrant cut. It's a lot of work, but I promise it will be worth it in the long run."

Jake takes his chisel and edges it under the bark again. When he pulls the long grey strip of bark gives way with a crunch that sizzles against your ears. Jake continues to slowly peel more away to reveal the fresh color underneath, not pressuring you to join the process at any point.

However when you do ask to help Jake is patient going over the process with you, explaining the best angle to keep the chisel. He provides steady guidance, only leaving you alone in the process when you tell him that you have a handle on what you're doing.

You help Hangman strip one of the logs and just as he had said, it is a slow process. It is however extremely satisfying and lots of fun. He puts on a podcast after consulting you to find one you would both enjoy. At one point you accidentally dig your chisel too far under the bark and feel it sink slightly into the 'green' sap softened wood. Your heart drops, and when you peel it back you see that it has pulled a chunk of wood, leaving a gouge in the trunk. You freeze, noticing the damage of the mistake, pulling your eyes to where Jake is working. Just as you start to wonder if there could be a way to fix or hide your mistake, Jake looks over at you with a wide smile that crinkles around his eyes.

"Oh wow," he gasps, the smile falling. Anxiety claws at your throat, and you instinctively prepare yourself for something bad to happen, every muscle in your body tensing in anticipation. Jake's hand gently pushes yours out of the way and dips over the gouge pushing away some of the sap that was springing from the area. Jake clicks his tongue before saying. "Look at this, sugar"

"I know and–" You are getting ready to spew the best excuse and explanation you can think of before Jake interrupts you.

"I've seen this color juniper, at least not in person" Jake tells you breathily. You are momentarily surprised that his words do not contain any anger, veiled insults, or condescending tones. Then you remember that this is Jake, so of course you're not going to 'be in trouble'. It takes your eyes a moment to drop down to the thick trunk again. Where you had damaged the wood, it revealed a bright purple streak under the top grain.

"It's purple," you say, eyes widening.

"It does look purple does it?" Jake asks excitedly. "That means at the very least that vein will look like that through the trunk. If not all the pigmentation in the grain."

"So, it's not usually purple?" You ask.

"Sometimes red, but not purple. This one was a real treasure find, sugarpie" Jake answers. His grin was so wide you were a little worried about his face. However, before you know it, he is sweeping you in his arms and rocking you playfully while saying, "We are going to have to do something really special with this one."

"Puzzle table," You say as if that was the most obvious answer. That was the whole reason he had gotten all these logs of juniper, after all.

"Yeah, maybe for the puzzle table," Jake says noncommittally, though as he hums you can tell that won't be the case. He kisses your forehead and mutters a thank you.

Jake gives you another thank you, a little while later, once you two have started to work again. "We wouldn't have known about the color until I went to cut planks and then there would have been a lot less I could do to preserve the color."

"I made a mistake, Jake."

"Not all mistakes are bad," he says kindly. "Sometimes they are just something that's meant to happen. They have to happen for us to learn something."

"Says the man who famously never makes mistakes," you grouse back.

"I make mistakes, but unfortunately, like everything I do, it's to the max. Either the best or the worst," he trails off with a shrug.

"Because you refuse to be middling?" You ask him teasingly. You aren't surprised when his sharp elbow playfully taps into your arm, and if you bruise later-- it will be worth it.

"We never should have read and watched Little Women," Jake grumbles. However, his open and light body language make it very clear to you he is being playful. You traced the shape of his dimples with your eyes enjoying the ease they brought to you. They seemed like the perfect place to rest your thumbs on his cheeks. It's nice how Jake comes with a built in guidance system. From his dimples, to the smile lines that will age nicely into kind crows feet all pointing to the freckle-mole by his right eye. You had already mapped out every place you wanted to kiss, given the opportunity.

"You loved them both," you remind Jake.

"Of course I did. It is a heart warming, stunning story. But you don't always have to make fun of how I teared up a little bit." Jake tells you, adopting a frown. Teared up was a bit of a down play on what had happened but you didn't call Jake out on that part. It wasn't a bad thing for men to get emotional and cry.

"I only tease because you were upset about it for the entire next day. Which honestly was so sweet."

"It's not sweet, Sugar." Jake groans.

"Jake, let's not do this dance," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him and turning back to your work on the trunk. You are much more careful now in how you place the chisel under the bark. In the middle of stripping off the next piece the podcast shuts off and some slow country music replaces it.

"Now, Sugar," Jake says in an extra thick southern accent that makes you narrow your eyes. He eases in close to you and pulls the chisel out of your hand sliding it in his tool belt. Unbuckling it Jake sets it on the bench. Coming back to your side he takes your hand, delicately. Jake pulls your work gloves from each finger. Intentional and steady, the pads of his fingers brush against your revealed skin. He tosses the gloves to the side as well, and with your now free hands pulls you closer to him, towards the open space in the middle of the garage.

"What dance exactly don't you want to do?" Jake asks you, starting to sway to the music and encouraging you to join him in the simple steps. Once you do he gleefully spins you in time with the music and draws you back even closer to his chest after.

Blowing out a sigh you melt into his embrace. Dancing with Jake was different than any other man; he was confident and incharge, firm enough with his hold that there wasn't any space for you to really fall out of step with him, but he left enough room so you didn't feel like he was forcefully dragging you through the steps. He was good about taking the worry of thinking about the steps away from you, allowing you to just enjoy the movement and how his broad body felt pressed so close.

"The dance where you try to sell some preposterous lie about not being a good man, and I have to convince you otherwise."

"Ouch," Jake says. You lean back further resisting the hold he has in moving you. Jake doesn't allow the movement though, continuing to step dance to the music guiding you with him.

"I'm sorry, Jake." you say already feeling a little bad.

"No, no. I might have deserved that one," Jake answers, as the song wraps up, and you don't know what to say. He doesn't let go of you though, just adjusts his steps, leads his steps into the next one.

"Let's find a different dance you do like," he says after a bit, shuffling you in his arms. "For example, we know you love the Texas two step."

"Do I?" You ask him with a laugh.

"Yes, ma'am," He responds confidently, not leaving room to contradict him. "How do you feel about salsa though?"

Jake turns you around the open space in the garage, going through dances he knows until you are both laughing. When he suggests cooking dinner and watching Dancing with the Stars for some new ideas you readily and happily agree, especially when he reminds you the logs will still be there tomorrow, and there is no real need to rush since you have at least a week until the sap is too dry to easily strip anymore.

…

"Marlee, your boss isn't going to pass you up for a promotion."

"Well, she might if I'm pregnant," Marlee responds in a small voice that doesn't match her typical outgoing demeanor. You almost drop your phone but manage to keep your grip tight.

"Marlene Machado… First of all, that would be illegal, and we would file a report with HR. And secondly, is there something you are wanting to tell me?"

"No!" Marlee says, "I don't know what you're talking about, me pregnant?! That's crazy talk. Maybe you're the one who's pregnant."

"Okay, honey. Sorry, sorry." You sigh only partly apologetic into the phone.

"No, I'm sorry." She replies in a quiet voice. "But nothing for sure yet."

"That's okay, Marls. It's only been a few months of this new medicine."

"Yeah, well um I guess that leads to my next problem."

"What's that?"

"What are your plans for Saturday?"

"I don't have any plans." You say running through your mental calendar to check.

"Okay, perfect. So, here's what Javy and I are thinking."

"So Javy is involved?" You clarify.

"What? Of course, he is!" Marlee says sounding affronted at even the concept of not including her husband, which makes you almost smile for real.

"Okay, okay," you tell her with a small laugh.

"We'll pick you up. Then we'll carpool to the airport. Don't worry I already made signs. Then we want to take y'all to Olive Garden."

You distantly hear Javy yelling, "When we are there, we are family."

Marlee takes a moment to giggle, "I'll make sure you and Jake drink a bottle of wine. Preferably one each. Trust me, nothing helps with the ‘we haven't seen each other in six months’ awkwardness better than wine. Then we will drive you two home!"

You aren't successful in catching your phone this time and it slams to the ground. You're frozen staring down at it, only managing to shake yourself and pick it up when you hear Marlee saying your name in concern.

"Sorry, the phone slipped. What was that?"

"Oh no, is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," you answer the pit in your stomach growing till it feels like it might swallow you whole.

"You don't need help with anything for tomorrow do you?" Marlee asks worriedly. You take a glance around the house. You had worked hard keeping things orderly and together while Jake had been gone. You knew how worried he was that things would change while he was away. It hadn't been easy and there were a few weeks there when you hadn't been able to keep yourself afloat very well.

"Help with what?" You ask, trying to get her to confirm what you thought you had heard.

"Any cleaning or organizing or any of that. Groceries so you and Jake don't have to go shop. Javy hates going to the store when he comes home. I guess there is something especially frustrating about them," Marlee trails off. You can tell that she is picking up on your off mood, and of course she was. She probably expected you to be ecstatic that Jake was coming home, and maybe you would have been if you had known about it.

You realize there isn't a way out of this so you have to concede a truth to her. You bite your lip and let your eyes frantically comb over the house again before finally whispering. "He hasn't said anything to me… about coming home."

When Marlee answers you can hear she isn't on speakerphone anymore, and asks you quietly, "He hasn't mentioned it at all?"

"Not a word," you respond solemnly.

"I'm sorry for ruining the surprise."

"I'm glad you did. I'll definitely want to clean and shop like you mentioned. And as nice as your plan sounded, maybe not this time. You two are the sweetest ever."

"I still feel bad. Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Marlee!" You were not fine.

"Wait, babes, I'm worried."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to you later, yeah? I love you!" You hang up the phone and stare at it blankly. Trying to process the new information you had just gotten. Looking around the house you realized you weren't even close to ready for Jake to come home.

You spend all of your free time panicking, cleaning and organizing the house, trying to make sure everything was just perfect for when Jake comes home. You almost had a breakdown when you couldn't remember if the quilt on his bed had been green or dark blue when he left.. The smallest details were haunting you. You had spent nearly an hour working up the courage to erase the chalkboard in the kitchen. Worried that you would forget some of the more important reminders, you erase everything but what you deemed Jake needed to know, like things that had come up concerning the house. It leaves a choppy, oddly spaced list, but you don't think you will have the energy to rewrite it without crying.

You were asleep when Jake came home. Waking up to sounds that are familiar and yet gone enough that they don't sound right, confuses your tired mind before you are startled into wakefulness, fully placing that for the first time in 6 months someone else is cooking in your kitchen. Your alarm is slightly eased when you check your phone and see a text from Marlee.

We're here with a gift, come down stairs as soon as you wake up <3

While you were put at ease knowing some manic axe murderer isn't in your house, you almost feel like you would prefer that to what you now know is waiting for you downstairs. You sit in your room for nearly an hour trying to work out what to do, if you should confront Jake and how to approach it, hoping inspiration or bravery will strike you into moving. It never does though, and instead there is a heavy handed knock on your bedroom door.

Taking a big gulp, not having the strength to find your voice, you slowly creak the door open. You lift your eyes up and unexpectedly find Javy on the other side of the door.

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" Javy says cheerfully. It takes you a few deep breaths to answer from your surprise. You don't know what the look on your face is, but the next thing you know, Javy is sweeping you up into a tight hug. You are frozen though, still strung out on what this must mean, that Jake is home.

"Is he?" You start to ask, but not sure how you actually want to finish the sentence: home, safe, okay, the same. Javy doesn't respond, he just squeezes you harder. You try asking your question again to get an answer. "Is Jake?"

"Hangman is here," Javy finally confirms.

"I thought it was going to be this evening."

"Some of his flights got shifted around at the last minute."

"Oh. And is he..?" You can't finish that question either.

"He will be okay," Javy says lightly.

"Will be? So, that means that he isn't okay now." You grimace, worry flooding your chest that is already so full of hurt.

"It'll all take us some time to readjust and recalibrate. Just don't push him, and more importantly yourself too hard. Okay?" Javy says pulling away from the hug after another squeeze. You nod numbly, not entirely sure you know what he means but it is comforting to know your friend is here.

When you don't make a move to follow Javy towards the door when he starts to retreat he levels you with a concerned look.

"Why do you love Jake?" Javy asks, leaning back against your door.

You open your mouth to protest that you don't love Jake– how can you love someone who willfully hasn't talked to you in 6 months? The words don't come out though, because in spite of it all, you do love him. You love him so much it hurts, and you made that choice even as Jake actively warned you against it. Javy waits patiently for you to respond, which just makes you feel like squirming more.

"I do not see what that has to do with anything," you try to deflect but Coyote frowns at you and shakes his head.

"It's because he makes you feel better than a million bucks right?" Javy presses on with the question.

"Yeah, sometimes." You concede thinking of how it was before Jake left.

"Or like you are the most important thing in the room? More important even than him?"

"Don't know if I love Jake because of that. I think those are just side benefits. I love Jake just by virtue of him being Jake." You say trying to explain how you feel and Javy nods along to your words.

"I get it," he says. You worry your lip and look at the door again, still not sure you can do this.

"It's going to be okay. Marlee and I are here to play interference as long as you two need it. Remembering those things you love about him will help get through the rough patch. He is really worried about doing something wrong."

"What do you mean wrong?"

"I would say he is worried about hurting you." And you had to resist the urge to laugh, because it was already much too late for that. Jake had been hurting you for months now.

"Has something gone wrong before, or is he just scared?"

Javy doesn't answer your question and he avoids your gaze and stares hard at a far wall. "Hangman and I aren't always stationed together."

"Oh, I see."

"You're going to have to give him some grace and time; he will even out, I promise. If it gets too bad you can always call me, okay?" Javy's eyes meet yours again, and he gives you a sad smile. "I love Jake too, you know."

"Yeah, I know you do." You reassure him. "Thanks Coyote, you are a good friend to him, and me too."

Javy is then urging you to finally leave your room, opening the door and gesturing for you to step out. He is asking you to be brave, and it's a lot easier to face your fears when you know someone else is there to help, just in case.

"Hey what's taking so long up there?" Marlee yells up the stairs suspiciously. She must have heard your door open.

"I am once again begging Javy to run away with me." You yell back to her playfully. Giving Javy one last tight hug and a muttered thank you, he strides confidently down the stairs. Anxiety and nerves eat away at your every step leaving a sour taste on your tongue. You keep your eyes trained on the ground, as you descend the stairs, still not ready to actually see Jake.

Instead you keep your eyes trailed on Javy where he has automatically drifted to his wife's side and is already wrapping himself around her and kissing her cheek.

"Well, were you convinced to run away?" Marlee asks her husband, hugging him back, clearly enjoying the joke.

"No Ma'am, not this time," Coyote answers with a laugh.

"I wasn't worried," she tells him. "I know there's only one person you would leave me for."

"I would never leave you," Javy responds, dropping the playfulness from his voice. However, Marlee persists.

"That's not true, we both know if Jake asked, you wouldn't even hesitate." The couple both turn their eyes towards the kitchen, which you realize is where Jake must be. You are frozen on the last step of the stairs, unable to take your eyes off Marlee and Javy, even as they expectantly look back and forth between where you are standing and where he is.

You decide you aren't brave enough, that you can't actually do this. You need to retreat up the stairs into your room and pack all of your things in order to get out of here as soon as possible. Jake was back now, all the responsibility you had to watch and take care of the house was released from your shoulders. Never facing him again seems like the obvious solution, you don't know why you had never considered it before.

"I wouldn't ever ask Javy to run away with me, he snores too much," Jake says. His voice tricks your eyes into looking towards the kitchen. Thinking about Jake Seresin and seeing him are two distinctly different things. He is handsome, Jake always has been handsome, but after so long of not seeing him, it's glaring, breathtaking.

You think you had expected him to change, which doesn't really make sense. Half a year, in the grand scheme of things, really isn't very long. You think maybe his uniform fits him a bit more snugly, that he looks even more fit than before. You weren't prepared… you weren't prepared at all. And now you are stuck because he is looking back at you. Jake blinks at you, and you stare wide eyed, too afraid if your eyes close for even a second he will be gone.

"Hello. Good morning," Jake finally says.

"Hi," you squeak. Then you are finally able to take the last step off the stairs and say, "It's good to see you."

Jake flashes you one of his perfect practiced smiles and a wink. Then he gestures to the bowls and pans in front of him, "I'm making french toast."

You wait a second, having to choke back a sob threatening to bubble in your chest. Then say, "I'm sure that will be good."

Javy and Marlee's analyzing the two of you makes the awkwardness press in harder. Gulping, you try to seem casual about walking towards the kitchen. Jake watches you intently. At the last minute you change your mind and veer down the hallway towards the front door instead.

"Sorry, I just have some errands I need to run," You announce loudly, quickening your step. Fumbling with the locks you burst out the front door, and stand heaving on the front porch. Gripping the railing hard, you lean against it trying to brace yourself.

A minute later you hear the door open, and you close your eyes tight, wishing you had been smart enough to walk further away. There is a slight clunk against the ground and you see a pair of your shoes next to your feet.

"Thought you might need shoes," Jake says quietly. Fuck, this hurt so much more than you though it would. You thought having him home would feel like a relief, not a fresh stab wound. You just shake your head, not sure you can say anything. Jake waits patiently but after several long minutes, he breathes out a quiet sigh.

"Okay. Well. I think I should just apologize and get on with it. I'm sorry, I am so sorry." You can't stop the hitching sob that falls from your throat.

"I know you didn't love back the same way, but I didn't realize you cared so little about me."

"That is an inaccurate statement," Jake protests.

"I don't want us to have a fight Jake." You mumble, nothing about this conversation was making you feel better.

"Well I do. I want us to have a fight, because you should be mad at me. You should be yelling at me and cursing the ground I walk on. You should've burned down this house!" He exclaims, and you can hear his frustration. You open your eyes to find Jake standing stiff and straight next to the slightly ajar front door. Hands clenched tight, Jake was staring at like you were water and he had been stranded in the desert for days, parched. A direct sighting of his green eyes is all it takes to break your resolve.

"I can't be mad at you!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Why not?" He prods you in a low voice.

"You know exactly why."

Jake huffs, clenching his jaw he glares upwards, away from you.

"You don't have to be this saint you know. You don't have to be this perfectly stable person for me because you feel like that's what I need. Please don't let me get away with hurting you."

"I won't give you the satisfaction," you tell him coldly.

"What?" Jake asks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of confirming that you are the bad guy you've convinced yourself you are. So, what would you like me to say instead?"

"I guess I want you to listen to the fact that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I left, I'm sorry for how I behaved, I—"

"Are you really sorry for what happened between us?" You ask in a small voice. You lower your eyes to look at the ground, not wanting to be too confrontational.

"Of course I am," he sighs. It's a stab to your heart. You had treasured the long heartbreakingly beautiful evening you had with Jake before he left, and hearing him say he doesn't feel the same is harrowing.

"Are you—" you start to ask but stop yourself. You ball up all the hurt in your chest trying to rationalize and compartmentalize. Realizing this is another one of those times you had to fill in the gaps. It was time you refocused on the realities at hand. There were no promises besides the one you had made. That you would love him regardless, and continuously. Reminding yourself this fact helps, you could be upset after, later. Every moment actually with Jake should be treasured, this was the first moment you were getting with him in how long and of course you had ruined it.

"I'm sorry for every other thing I know I should be, and everything I willfully chose not to know too. I'm sorry, and well I want to go on forever. I want to keep telling you I'm sorry every second. So, I'm sorry. I'll say it a million times more. Like you deserve."

"Jake, stop. Sometimes the more times you say something the cheaper the words have become. So let's keep this one valuable. I'm sorry for pushing, and you've said sorry too. We can move on now."

"I'll just be plain then." He says, though you can tell that the frustration and desperation are still burning hot under his skin.

"Yes, Jake, be plain. That's the best option for us."

"If we step over lines?"

"We say something, stop and talk about it."

"Okay." He agrees, "We have to talk about the other thing now too."

"What thing?" you ask.

"My question, what happened between us." He says as if he hadn't just told you part of him regrets it.

"You asked to be selfish with me Jake, and I said yes. I don't regret that, and I'm not mad about what happened. You had my permission and consent for all of it.'

"I just kept waiting until I knew what I wanted to say, but then I never knew what I wanted to say," he explains.

"Jake, I really…" You sigh and scrub your hand over your face. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

Jake nods silently in response. "Okay, Later, then."

"Sure, like when the Machados aren't listening on the other side of the door." You say loudly looking at the front door that was cracked, having no doubt your friends were being nosey. Not that you really blame them, you probably would have done the same thing.

"Do you still have errands to run?" he asks you. You look out to the street deciding you should at least take a small walk to sort through your thoughts.

"I'm just going to go on a little walk. I'm sure I'll be back by the time breakfast is done," you explain.

"Sounds good, sugar. Can I help you with your shoes?" He asks quietly. The only reason you nod your head yes is because you think you might start crying otherwise.

Jake kneels down and hesitates for a long moment before his large warm hand is on your ankle, helping angle your foot into the shoe. His thumb makes a brushing stroke across the skin before doing the same thing with the other foot. When you get back from your walk, it's awkward. You completely avoid Marlee's attempts to get you to go off and talk with her. Instead, you decide that the best course of action is to pretend that nothing is wrong. You laugh at jokes and ignore how stilted and awkward Jake's conversation is with everyone. Then, after Marlee and Javy linger way too long, before you and Jake finally get them to leave. Once they are out the door and Jake has locked the door behind them, you both let out a sigh of relief. You meet Jake's gaze, both of you offer small smiles. It's the most normal moment you've had all day.

"Welcome back, Jake." You offer tentatively. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I kinda just want to nap," he admits. You part ways at the top of the stairs giving him a strained smile and retreat into your room; Jake's eyes don't leave you until the door is shut firmly in place.

It's much later that night when you hear some loud banging. You shoot out of your room worried, and realize the banging is coming from the other side of Jake's bedroom door. You knock on it firmly but don't hear a response.

You knock again and the banging comes to a stop. You try the door and find it locked.

"Jake, are you okay?" You ask him through the door.

"I'm fine. Thanks," he yells back. You wait but when you don't get anything more, you have no choice but to leave him be and go back to your room. You don't actually even see Jake again until two nights later. You have been able to tell that he is home but Jake is as elusive as a ghost.

You run into him next when you open your door one night to get some water before bed. Jake is standing on the other side, holding two water bottles. Part of you has a hunch that he had been standing there for a while. He looks shocked but a little relieved when he sees you.

"I know I shouldn't be here," Jake starts slowly, taking his gaze off of you and looks down at his feet.

"No, it's okay that you are here," you stutter slightly. "Is there something you need?"

Jake nods his head along with your words, his eyebrows drawing together. Then he holds out a water bottle for you to take. "Can I just be here? Here, with you?"

"Of course, always." You say stepping backwards into your room leaving the door wide open for him. You shuffle to your bed and lift open the blankets ready to welcome him there with you. However, Jake drops the pillow he was holding on the floor nearby and lays down instead.

You want to ask him questions about it but the edge he is on isn't one you want to poke or prod in any direction. While you are still hurt, knowing he is here is safe again, with you is equally as soothing, a small dosage of pain medication.

"There's plenty of room up here with me too, you know." You decide to casually offer just in case.

"It's too soft for me right now."

"I just thought I would offer," you say lightly.

"I can't sleep. It's the worst part. Everything is too quiet and too still and at the same time not quiet or still enough. I think I might go insane." He explains in a low voice.

"What can I do? What do you need?" You ask sympathetically.

"Can we talk about it?" Jake asks hopefully.

"No, Jake. We can't," You sigh and hear him sigh in frustration.

"Someday, at some point, we are going to have to talk about it," Jake says so carefully you know he is consciously holding back the taunting frustration he wants to put into the words.

"No, we really don't," You contradict him.

"Sweets," Jake responds, sounding wrecked.

You think you should give into him again. You should allow Jake to talk his heart out and seek penance from you. How this should be a time when you are strong for him. However, as much as you want to give Jake the world, there must be times that you curl around your own heart to try and shield it from hurt.

"Listen, Jake. I don't need to know why you didn't talk to me while you were gone. No matter what your explanation is, it's going to hurt my feelings. So, I would rather not know. Please, let me pretend something a little kinder."

He is silent, so very quiet for so long you almost wonder if he has left. Evaporated from existence, that he never came home at all, and you've been living an elaborate hallucination. You turn on your side just to check in the soft lamp light that Jake is still laying on the floor.

"You should have said no to me before I left. It would have saved us both a lot of grief I think."

Jake's words feel like a punch in the gut, rattling around like a wrecking ball, leaving a bloody massacre behind. With a heavy blown out breath you say, "No it wouldn't have."

"No, it wouldn't have," he sighs in agreement.

"It would be nice though, if we could go back to before."

"Before?" He asks.

"Yes," you say, clutching your blankets tight. "If I could pretend that you never got orders and didn't leave. I would jump to that in an instant.

"You want to pretend nothing happened?"

"Isn't that an idea?" You huff a small broken laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

"What if I don't remember exactly how things went before?" Jake wonders.

"Jake, I wasn't serious," you say cautiously.

There are several long minutes of silence where you wait for him to say something. Finally, you hear Jake let out a long heavy audible groan while shifting. "If you don't want to talk it out. Pretending is probably our best option then. Otherwise, what are we going to do, sweets?"

"Sugar," You correct automatically.

"Hmm?"

"You usually call me sugar, or honey. Not sweets"

"Ah, that's right, and darling. I got it mixed up because you're so sweet to me."

"I'll help you. If you don't remember how it goes."

"Thank you," he says. And you can't believe he is actually agreeing to this idea, or really that you are either.

"Do you not like sweets?" Jake asks eventually.

"It's fine enough, I guess." You answer as lightly as you can. Then you go through another bout of silence. You nervously play with the edge of a blanket hoping that this tension with Jake will ease. It's always gone away in the past, but that was also before.

"That's what you want then? Tomorrow, we go back?" Jake asks again.

"Yes, tomorrow," You confirm.

"Sugar?

"Yes, Jakers?"

"Can I ask you a question?" He asks. You laugh lightly, feeling a bit of the nervousness ease at his tone which has become much lighter.

"I never understand why people say that. Aren't you already asking a question?" Jake chuckles low in his chest in amusement. He doesn't follow along with the joke though, just leaves it there hanging in the air.

"The answer is yes," you tell him casually.

"You don't know what the question is."

"Yes, you can ask me a question," you clarify in a whisper. Jake makes some rustling sounds and you hear him come closer to you.

"Are you sure that bed is big enough for two?" He asks.

"Why don't we find out?" You laugh feeling more at ease.

With a nod Jake crawls onto bed and turns to face you on his side. However, he doesn't scoot in close like you expect. He is stone still on the other side of the bed, laying on top of the covers, only shifting his pillow once.

"What would you do, if I told you the last time I said yes, it had an extended warranty?" You ask while turning on your side to face where you are in the bed now.

"How long are we talking about here?" Jake asks.

"Unfortunately, I think it expires some time tomorrow." You watch Jake work his lip in contemplation, while examining your face closely.

"Why would you let me be selfish with you again?"

"I think it's because we are selfish. Maybe it's a little bit because I don't want the memory of the last time I tasted you to be bitter."

Jake rolls away from you onto his back, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. "Stop letting me take things from you."

"We both deserve a night where we are selfish with each other, I think." You tell him reaching across the gap between you. You set a hand on Jake's cheek ignoring the prickly stubble there.

"To have you and let you go again the next day would be torture," Jake says all while leaning into your touch.

"Just a kiss this time," you offer, urging him by his cheek to come a little closer to you.

"It was supposed to be just a kiss last time too." Jake's eyes are bright where they burn into yours. He inches a little closer and you lean forwards as well, reducing the gap between you two that much more until there is just a miniscule space now.

"I know," You answer against his lips, letting your hand slip into his hair. Jake's lips move with yours crowding in close, like he is trying to breathe all of you into himself and commit you to memory.

"Maybe, it can be more of a promise?" Jake eventually gasps.

"A promise?" You question.

"A promise not to hurt you like this again," Jake answers.

"That's not an easy promise to keep," you warn.

"That's true, but I'm willing to try anyway." He kisses you again and dips his tongue into your mouth. Jake swallows your little whimpers; he tastes just as good as he always has. It's very easy to be selfish with Jake "Hangman" Seresin.

…

It's a slow road to trying to get back to normal. Jake circles around the house like he is lost. Picking things up and setting them down, starting conversations with you and leaving halfway through them. Shadows stretch across his face and his increasingly dark stubble and facial hair. You are a little surprised to find that he doesn't have a red beard like most blonds do. The facial hair only serves to make him look increasingly gaunt.

Jake even denies your offer to start a puzzle together, telling you that wasn't something he could handle at the moment. You try not to seem like you were watching him like a hawk, but you definitely are. Until one day he stood up from the table in the middle of dinner and announced that he was going camping.

"Oh okay. Do you know how long?"

"Yeah," Jake sighs, "I'll be home before next weekend, and I promise you when I get home I'll be normal again."

"You don't have to be any which way for me Jake," you tell him gently.

"I know, but I need to do this for me too, sugar." He explains while putting away dishes. You watch him complete the task; Jake is antsy even with his hands occupied. None of the projects or tasks he has picked up since being home have been enough to occupy him with real distraction. Two days ago, you had walked into the garage where Jake had rigged up his camping hammock to the ceiling which you felt like he was swaying precariously 8 feet off the ground. On top of that Jake had music blasting, a documentary on Yosemite playing, while also whittling a piece of wood.

"Okay. I'll miss you." You eventually say. Jake purses his lip, and after a heavy gulp he nods his head. Once the last of the dishes is away he spins on his heel and heads towards the garage door.

You hurry after him, "Jake?"

"Yes, sugar?" He asks, not pausing his trajectory.

"Are you leaving right now?" You ask him surprised.

"Yes, I packed earlier today."

"Can I have a hug before you go?" You ask him hesitantly.

Jake freezes. He rubs his hands across his face pressing briefly into his eyes while sighing a very soft "Fuck." Then he turns to you fully looking abashed. "Yeah, sugar. What do you need before I go? I'm sorry I should have asked that first."

"No, it's no big deal. Honestly." You tell him backing off not wanting to be too much. Jake shushes you softly while stepping closer.

"Tell me how it goes. I need to remind myself about this part."

"Well," you start off hesitantly, "normally I would get a hug goodbye."

"Ahh," Jake hums, "that's right. And I do that part like this?" Jake wraps you in his arms, draping them high on your back. You wait a moment before draping your arms around his neck.

"How's the next part going again, sweets?"

"You squeeze my waist a little harder and lower." Jake follows the direction his arms tightening around you drawing you flush against his chest.

"Now?" He whispers.

"You would probably kiss my forehead."

"Just your forehead?" Jake asks breathily.

"I'll leave that one up to you, Jake." He unwraps a hand from your waist to hold the back of your neck, keeping you steady.

"And if I want to kiss somewhere else?"

"You've got my permission Jake," you tell him trying to keep want and desire out of your voice. Jake parts his lips and leans in closer brushing his lips to grace over your cheekbone.

"You can have it, Jake," you remind him.

"No," he answers and closes his eyes. "Not again, not yet. I'll be home in a few days."

Once Jake leaves you know there is something you have to do to help him. It's an idea that gets stuck in your head and then you can't get it out. He had been spending time daily in his hammock in the garage, and you noted that Jake had taken it with him when he left. You missed how he used to casually be in the living room, so you started brainstorming some ideas on how you might entice Jake to join you again.

So, you go to the kitchen and pull out the rolodex, find the card dedicated to Miss Celeste and give it a call. Russell answers the phone, and you can hear the man smiling through the phone as you ask after his wife. It turns out Jake's grandmother is just as blunt but kind hearted as you had been led to believe. After a longer conversation with her, she and Russ offer you some advice and tips

You aren't wholly sure how you managed to get it all done. Eventually having to call Coyote to help you move some of the living room furniture. However, after significantly less sleep than you already get, there is a large comfy hammock in the living room. You and Javy had to sandwich Jake's large comfy chair much closer to the couch than it was previously, but y'all managed to make it all fit.

Jake comes home from camping quietly late one night. The stubble he had been supporting before is a full-on beard now, and his hair is longer than you have ever seen it. This look is intimidating to you in lots of ways, like some mirrored version of Jake that you don't know. He offers. quick hello when he comes in from the garage, breezing past you and towards the stairs.

Jake doesn't make it to the stairs though instead he stands frozen at the edge of the living room for five whole minutes just staring at the hammock. You watch him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

"It's a surprise for you." You say after the amount of time he is standing there increases to a concerning duration. Compelled to do something you explain, "I know your hammock has been one of the only places you have been able to relax."

"This is very sweet. I appreciate it." Jake starts evenly. It's contradictory as you see him grit his teeth, and his fists clench and unclench at his sides.

"You don't like it?" You ask him.

"It's not that," Jake tries to explain. "It's just you can't randomly switch the living room around and add new furniture like this."

Your mouth drops open in shock. This might be one of the first times Jake has ever told you there is something you can't do in the house. It's jarring, he has always spent so much time tailoring everything to your likes, desires, and aesthetics that you hardly even think about the house as Jake's and Jake's alone anymore. Frustration bubbles under the shock twisting into anger at the situation. You were trying your best, doing all the things you thought you should, and it still didn't seem like enough.

"That is so rich coming from you for so many different reasons Jake." You say agitated, rolling your eyes.

"Why are you upset?" Jake asks you, finally looking away from the living room.

"Why are you upset?" You parrot with emphasis.

"Well, what did you expect? I left for a few days and now there is a hammock in the living room. That's an outdoor item you brought indoors," Jake responds snappily. It pushes you right against an edge that you are unfamiliar with living on now. You had forgotten how it was to live in a hyper aware state, trying to manage and monitor someone else's emotions.

"You act like you haven't done the same thing," you tell him, gesturing frustratedly at the juniper chest. "I was doing something nice for you. However, if you don't like it, I'm sure you're more than capable of taking it down and moving your furniture back and fixing your living room."

You leave Jake in the living room and go to the kitchen. He grumbles to himself upset which makes you feel even more on edge. However, you refuse to let Jake blowing back into the house prevent you from finishing the dishes you had been stacking and putting away.

"It's our living room," he finally calls back to you.

"You aren't acting like it."

"You could have given me some warning," he reasons, but it has a slightly accusatory tone.

"When Jake?" You ask him, upset. "When you called me and told me you were coming home? When you text? How exactly was I supposed to let you know?"

He doesn't have an answer and you slam the door of a cupboard harder than you intend. Inside, the stack of bowls were more precariously placed than you thought. The cupboard closes and bounces back open, the bowls ejecting and crashing hard against the ground. Several of them shatter when they make impact, sending ceramic shards flying across the area.

You aren't expecting the sound to trigger you. It most likely does because of how high strung and worried you already are. The house is such a safe comforting space you don't really have a game plan for when PTSD attacks hit you here. A chill makes its way up your spine, while the sound of shattering glass rings echoing in your ears, for much longer than it echoes in the room. It's all it takes for some flip to switch in your head.

Managing to take small gasping breaths, you try to assess the damage of the sharp ceramic pieces around you, categorizing how many bowls had broken. It doesn't help you to fight off sudden panic that is creeping in when you notice one of the destroyed bowls was one Miss Celeste had made for Jake. It was a soup bowl stamped with a silly song Jake liked to sing anytime he used it. Distantly you hear Jake calling your name but can't fully process it. He is stepping towards you, fear rings through your body, and instinctually you go to step back away from him. Flinching hard every one of your muscles feels like it's attached to a live wire. Your fight or flight mode activated but you are still mostly frozen in the middle with short panting breaths, your eyes flit across the room trying to find a suitable escape path.

"Sugar, please don't move. Just stay right there. It's okay." Jake is repeating, holding his hand up, showing you his open body language. Your breaths continue to come out gasping, but eventually you are able clear the cloudiness up enough with the help of Jake's soothing.

"Jake, help," you whimper. Training your eyes on Jake you think that he is the only available escape, from the glass around you and this attack. At your words, his whole face shifts overcome with a serious ‘get things done’ demeanor.

"Are you hurt?" He asks calmly. You can't answer him just offering a shaking shrug. "Stay right there for me, Sugar. Okay?"

Jake is shoving his feet into some boots, then crunching through the broken ceramics and glass before picking you up. He carries you to the living room, setting you down on top of the closed puzzle table. Once you are there, he kneels in front of you. Picking up each of your feet, Jake carefully examines them for injury. Then gives the rest of your body a scan; he is clearly relieved to find that there weren't any cuts.

"Wait here." He orders you gently, walking back to the kitchen and setting about cleaning the mess.

"I can clean that," you try to tell him in a weak attempt for Jake to stop.

"You just stay there looking pretty and take some breaths, sweets." He responds from the kitchen. You decide to give in, which is probably for the best with the way the numb panic is still very present at the edge of your consciousness. Your heart is still beating erratically as well.

Jake is expedient and thorough about cleaning, going through the whole kitchen and dining room with his shop vacuum searching for any hiding slivers. When finished he makes his way to the living room and crouches by your side again sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry," he says, setting his large warm hands on your knees.

"I'm sorry," you apologize as well. "I should have waited and asked you before changing the living room."

"You don't need to ask. I've just been on edge and wasn't expecting it. I do appreciate the thought. And you know I do love hammocks so, I'm sure I'll love it."

"We don't have to keep it," You remind him.

"We are taking it for a trial run," Jake responds. Then a few moments later he lets out a heavy sigh and says, "You know we are doing it all already, right?"

"What's that?"

"It" Jake says gesturing with his free hand in the air. "We fit together. We're," Jake takes the slightest pause, his hand grips yours so tight you almost ache, then he drops it completely. "A bridle joint or maybe, a box joint."

"We aren't ever going to fit with anyone else are we?" You ask him, clarifying.

"No, we aren't. I think it might just be this, Sugar. It's just us." Jake says the words like a confession, an admission, an honest reality.

You try to analyze the look in his eyes, but over anything else all you can focus on is how tired he is. You pick Jake's hand up again. Standing from the couch, pulling him with you. Jake asks no questions; he just follows you as you guide him. You tug him with you to each of the doors as you make sure each one is locked, jiggling them to be sure. Then he follows you to the kitchen as you grab two of his glass water bottles. You hand one to him and take his, gripping it tightly while his other hand remains loose in yours.

You keep leading him then as he follows you up the stairs. Finally, You open the door to his room, and freeze in the doorway. A gasp catches in your throat. It's empty. The whole room. Not a mattress or a bedframe, no side tables or a dresser. It's all gone. There is one chest, a basket with some blankets, and one pillow. Jake stands close behind you, and you hear him audibly sigh into your ear.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and pull Jake through the room, leaving no room to address the issue and heading straight to the bathroom. You turn on the water for the bath and let the tub start filling. Turning to Jake and finally, let go of his hand. He looks lost at you, and you bring your hand up to lift his chin up a little higher. Jake takes your direction and those gorgeous sea-glass green eyes look at you.

You tug at his shirt twice before he follows the movement and pulls it off. You step out of your own pants but otherwise stay clothed. Jake follows you sliding off his jeans. You go to Jake's bath chest still in place and grab a scent you think will be soothing, adding it to the bath.

You reach to pull down his boxers, and he shakes his head in a small no. When you start to pull off your shirt, Jake's hands stop you there too. He gives you a pleading look, and you shrug back, leaving your shirt in place. You motion for Jake to get in the bath, and he wordlessly does as you say. Making room for you between his knees, Jake scoots until he hits the back of the tub. You step into the warm water and slide down to settle in.

Jake's head falls forward so his forehead presses into the space where your shoulder and neck meet, taking deep breaths. You shudder, feeling the air of his breath against your neck. Jake's large hands are gripping the side of the bathtub hard. You are shocked that the feeling of the wet clothes sticking to your skin hasn't rocketed you out of the bathtub. But like it often is, it's hard to focus on anything that's not Jake when he is this close to you.

After a while, when Jake lifts his head and leans back, you do as well, leaning into his chest, his arms slide around you, pulling you even closer, as you draw imaginary designs on one of his forearms.

"What's it mean for us?" You finally ask him.

"I'm worse than I was before," Jake says to you quietly.

"Before me?" And that actually makes you want to cry because it sounds so true. Things certainly would have been less variable without you around in Jake's life. No one to throw him off his routines. And before him weren't you better able to protect your heart better than this? You had been calloused and strong before. Living with Jake and in this house has been like a fine grit sandpaper buffing you so now you only have smooth soft edges.

Has that been the way it's been between the two of you this whole time, something bad that was disguised as good? You can't come up with an answer, and apparently, neither can he. So it sits there, wilting, rotting between the two of you.

The silence is loud and almost echoes in the bathroom, with no room to hide. You finally take one of Jake's hands in yours and play with his fingers. He seems content with this, relaxing even further into the water. One of his knees occasionally bumping into you playfully, as if you could forget that he was there, as if there were anything besides Jake on your radar.

Then he is whispering your name against your neck, right behind your ear. Gooseflesh bursts across your skin, and his beard is coarse and scratchy against your sensitive skin not having been trimmed once since it started growing. You try to shift away but his lips follow you. Tired of the game you reach a hand behind you and fist it into Jake's long hair, tightly tugging his face away from your neck. Jake gasps in response.

You drop your hand feeling like he has been sufficiently warned from the action, which you know would have descend into tickling. Jake grabs your wrist and turns it, and then ghosts his lips over your pulse point. After two more soft kisses there he presses three to your palm, and on each finger. Each press of his lips is intoxicating even in a place as insignificant as your hand. With your ring finger Jake's kisses are three times as long and lingering. It's an action that has you slamming your eyes closed to keep the tears from escaping. He finally releases your arm and you drop your hand back into the warm water.

Something starts to thaw out there, in your chest. The combination of the physical warmth of the bath and Jake's blazing body heat. However, it is the feeling, the emotional warmth of it that makes the difference. You tremble slightly feeling completely overwhelmed, the idea of being anywhere else or trying to move is devastating to your system.

"Sugar pie?"

"Yes, Jakobi?" You answer back just as quietly

"We haven't been doing so good, have we?"

"No."

"Our mental health?"

"Positively dismal. We both probably need to be institutionalized." You tell him. Jake nods along, in understanding with your words.

"Do you think I could convince them to let us be roomies there too?"

"Not sure even you could swing that one, honey." You respond. Jake's eyes and whole face positively light up moments after you say the words.

"Honey?"

You hum thinking it over before smiling and nodding, "Yup."

"But that's my nickname for you," Jake says in a pouting tone but the bright expression he is wearing hasn't dimmed.

"Yeah, and sugar, darling, babycakes, anything related to pie—"

"I called you Huckleberry pie once and—"Jake protests but you barrel onwards cutting him off.

"Well no more honey for you anymore. You use half the sweet names under the sun, I'm allowed to have one. And I think it's honey." You cup Jake's scratchy bearded cheeks and smile softly. "You're my honey, now."

"Why honey?"

"Because you're so sweet."

"I'm not," Jake says brokenly, all playfulness having been sucked out of him. His head is heavy in your palm as he eases into your hold.

"You're sweet," you repeat more firmly. Then continue, "Plus I can just imagine how snug and happy you would be in those honey combs."

"Hexagons are one of the superior shapes," Jake sighs.

"Sure they ar, and you are golden like honey." You run your fingers through Jake's hair again. He shutters hiding those sad green eyes from you.

"I never knew just how blond the sun could make your hair," You sigh when you reach the end, scratching back up his scalp to repeat the process. You are turned fully to face him now, sloshing the water a bit to settle more comfortably. However Jake doesn't move, he seems almost as if he could be a statue made of glowing gold.

"This tan also makes no sense," you tell him, trailing your hands over his shaped shoulders.

He squints a single eye open at you, and you freeze as if you've been caught. Instead Jake's hand's pull your knees to settle on either side of his hips. Dragging you that much closer to him. It makes your breath hitch and Jake's eyes darken, however, he still leaves a bit of space.

"One of my grandpas was Italian," Jake says with a quirk of his lips. The single eye he had opened closed as the smile melted off his face. Your hands resume their path, after massaging Jake's shoulders you knead his neck. Which just leads to playing with his hair again. Your train of thought was lost until you noticed a small light but fresh scar on the top of his bicep. You lean forward and gloss your lips over the skin there. Jake's hand tightens where he is holding your thighs. He takes a careful breath in through his nose, and a long exhale. He follows that up with two more shallow but steady breaths and then just like that the tension releases from his body as he releases the air out.

"Where did you learn how to breathe like that, cowboy?" You ask him, letting your thumb continue to trace the strange new scar you have been examining.

"Oh, so, I'm cowboy now?"

"Mr. Cowboy, my honey." You coo back. Jake's eyes flutter open again, he blinks slowly at you heavily lidded.

"You are avoiding the question." You prompt him by raising an eyebrow.

"It's not as bad as you're probably thinking," Jake answers a moment later.

"I'm thinking, you did a whole summer of Vipassana, and meditation in some foreign country that made you have concerns about being that white guy(™)."

As his lips lift in response to your joke, you think Jake's dimples are some of the prettiest things in this world. Suddenly, you find it unacceptable that his beard hides any part of them from your view. You see the hint of them but it's not the same you think as you trace the shape of one. Your left hand remains pressed over the new scar you had discovered.

"We both know I could never do vipassana."

"I have evidence to the contrary," the words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and you regret them instantly.

"Don't be mean to me," he begs you. In the same breath he speaks the words you are already halfway through saying, sorry.

"I'm working on leaving it I promise," You tell him.

"We don't have to leave it, we could talk about it." Jake suggests hopefully.

"We are leaving it Jake," you say back sharply and he snaps his mouth shut chewing at the side of his cheek for a moment before responding.

"Okay. I know I hurt you deep, and it's still fresh," Jake responds. His jaw clenches and you feel it jump.

"So, it wasn't meditation? Is this going to be another riveting USNA story?" You ask him, steering the conversation back on a lighter track.

"It was before Annapolis."

"Tell me more," you laugh, dropping your hold on his face, leaning forward and resting your check against his bicep.

"You're going to laugh at me," he pouts.

"I find that an entirely likely probability," you answer teasingly.

"I had to take friendship classes in middle school."

"I'm sorry, you did what?" You ask Jake to repeat, trying to process this bit of information.

"This other kid and I hated each other, and we were constantly getting into it. The worst part is we had lockers right next to each other. He accidentally hit me with his locker, and I lost it. So, I slammed his head right back and we started brawling. Anyways, long story short, our school counselor made us take friendship classes, and taught us breathing techniques. It was all bull shit, but we ended up being friends afterwards, bonding over how stupid friendship class was."

"At least you got some good breathing techniques."

"Something like that," Jake laughs back.

"What's this one then? It's new." you say ghosting your lips over the scar you had found again. Jake sighs, glancing at the scar himself.

"You are going to be mad," he starts.

"Why would I be mad, honey?"

"I got two more moles removed." The admission makes you pull back and give Jake a weary suspicious glare.

"Have you not been wearing sunscreen again?"

"No, I've been wearing sunscreen ever since you told me about it, I promise. The Doc just asked about one of them and wanted to do a biopsy. So, I said he might as well just take them all off while he was at it."

"And?"

"Everything came back benign. Nothing to really worry about, Sugar."

"I always worry about you, Jakers." You sigh with relief and kiss that scar again, enjoying the feeling of having your head pillowed on his arm.

"I know, I'm sorry." Jake whispers back. You wish he had just left it as I know.

"I don't want to make you worse, Jake."

"You don't make me worse. I am worse, no one has ever inspired me to act quite as selfishly as you have. I don't even know how to wholly be anymore without you."

"I just want to make things better for you."

Jake groans quietly, "Maybe someday it will finally click that you make everything better. That you are stunning, and gorgeous, and just over all the best."

"We could clear cut a forest, and not find a single tree that's sappier than you Jake." It inspires a quirk of his lips but not the laugh you were hoping for.

"You are probably right," is all Jake says back, continuing to trace shapes into your skin. It's quiet for a long time as you two just exist together, coming down from the emotional turmoil of the night.

Eventually, You ask, "Jake, where are you?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Sugar," He sighs and tilts his head back letting out an exhausted breath.

"Are you in the clouds?" You ask. He thinks before shaking his head no.

"Are you on the ocean?"

He feels the water around him briefly then settles his hands on your skin again. "It doesn't appear so."

"Are you on base?"

"No."

"So, where are you?"

"I know I'm here with you sugar, it just doesn't feel real." Jake answers.

You examine him closely from his wet hair to the defined muscles of his shoulders and neck. How much muscle Jake gained deployment almost pushed him into a category you would describe as too buff, but not actually going over the edge. As you trace the shape of his face you can easily identify what one of the problems is.

"You are being suffocated," you tell him as your fingers trace up his cheeks and around through his hair there.

"Why do you have a beard Jake?" You ask in a gentle curious tone.

"I don't have to shave until I go back to work."

"You should shave sooner," You say encouragingly.

"Too tired," Jake says, stretching out one of his legs in the water.

"Do you want help?"

"You want to give me a shave, sugar?"

"I'd be willing to give it a go if you feel like it would help," you answer plainly. He thinks about it before nodding.

"It would."

That's all you need to hear before you are stepping out of the bath. Immediately you hate how the wet material of your shirt clings to your skin. So, you quickly rip it off and throw it into the shower. Jake groans behind you and you point a finger back at him while grabbing fresh towels and Jake's shaving kit from beside the sink.

"It's nothing you haven't seen and you can control yourself," you chastise him.

"But you are so fucking beautiful," Jake groans making absolutely no effort to hide the way his eyes trace over your body.

"You were two minutes from falling asleep."

"That was before," Jake whines as you come back to the bath and he sees you in even more detail.

You set the shaving kit to the side within easy reach and settle yourself back into the water. You sit so your bare chest is pressed against his. This makes Jake close his eyes throwing his head back whispering a quiet "Fuck."

When his eyes open again, they are slightly dilated with lust. It makes you smile at him whispering, "hi there."

"Hi," he breaths back.

"Hi," you say again, smiling wider. Jake can't stop himself from smiling as well, lips drawn upwards. His hands trace up your bare sides and you give him a small glare. Grabbing his chin you tilt his head back once more.

"Yup, hold yourself just like that," You tell him, pausing to make sure he doesn't move. You start to lather up some shaving cream spreading it along this neck.

"Have you shaved someone else before?" Jake questions.

"Not really. So, you might want to give me pointers. I don't want to cut your pretty face." You answer with a teasing tone.

Jake hums in acknowledgement thinking for a long moment. Then he starts to detail the intricate shaving ritual he normally keeps. You follow each one of the steps. It's a slow process, shaving him. You are worried that you will cut him or make some other mistake in the process. Jake isn't hesitant or shy about giving you sweet and gentle encouragement.

Finally, Jake's face is free of hair again. You help wipe away the remaining product, and dab on the aftershave in his kit you brought over. Jake winces but gives you a tentative smile when you stare at him examining your work. You smile back softly, setting things down that are in your way, feeling relieved to be done.

The two of you finish your bath before getting out and drying off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you head back to your room changing and settling into bed. Jake follows not long after in a pair of comfy pants and a soft muscle shirt. He asks if he can join you in bed even though you already pulled the covers back while waiting for him.

Jake takes a bit of shifting to get comfortable until he is laying on his side facing you, meeting your gaze as you shift to see him better. You lift a hand to cup his face enjoying the fresh smooth skin there.

"Ah, there he is," you say with a soft sigh. The lines of Hangman's face are prominent and easy to follow again. A tear spills from Jake's eye and you push it away gently. Leaning forwards Jake angles his lips to barely brush over yours before he pulls back.

"Please?" You ask him, going to follow his lips for more.

"I don't think we should," Jake responds and snuggles his face into your neck to avoid the temptation of your lips.

"But we fit. We fit perfectly," you whisper.

"That's exactly the problem," Jake answers. "I won't do wrong by you again. And that means I don't want to rush anything. Are you in a hurry?"

"Does that have a timeline?" You ask, ignoring your frustration.

"It does in a general sense."

"Care to share?"

"Sure," Jake mutters tiredly into your neck. "I think it's been going for a while. Right?"

"That's right," You answer, letting your hand drift into his long hair. It is almost all the way dry now and fluffy. He had a haircut scheduled before he started work again leaving you only a few days left to savor this. His eyes close, and a small smile graces his face. With a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp a tiny whine tumbles out of him. Jake seems too tired to care anymore. His nose just nuzzles your neck, and he places a tiny kiss there. You sigh, and resume playing with the silky strands.

"And how long before we have it all figured out, Honey?" You ask.

"As I see it, the rest of our lives. So, give or take sixty-ish more years."

"We are making it the long haul huh?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We will, so there's absolutely no reason to start at a sprint."

"I thought you had a need for speed." You tell him teasingly.

Jake huffs into your neck, sucking in a deep breath he blows it out slowly tickling your skin. "I have a great comeback for that."

"Oh really?"

He hums in affirmation. Then he sleepily manages to crack an eye open and looks at you, while he mumbles, "But I am a sleepy boy. Wait, no… a sleepy man"

You chuckle and kiss Jake's forehead. "Goodnight, sleepy boy"

"Sleepy man," he tries to correct you, but the words are hardly coherent. It takes less than five minutes before Jake is fully asleep, and you aren't far off yourself. Jake is so warm, and itis so easy to match your breaths with his deep even ones. Falling into a dream where you spend sixty years with Jake, even there in your dream you realize that still might not be enough.

…

Read the rest of this chapter on AO3. Sorry again, Tumblr wouldn't let me put it all here (and that it's so long). My first reblog of this here on Tumblr has the other half as well.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #house we share #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #gci3 #good comes in 3

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astarionfreak · 16 days

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Days of hedonistic debauchery

// Gale x Tessa (Fem!Tav) x Astarion

For Tessa, Astarion coming to stay with her and Gale in Waterdeep has been a dream come true. Even Gale is learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. But nothing can ever really be that simple, can it?

18+ • NSFW • 4.8K words (2/9) | Read on AO3 (teaser available below)

Tags: POV Third Person, Past Tense, Post-Game, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Professor Gale, Canon-Typical Violence, Polyamory, Miscommunication, Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Threesome, Smut

---

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Tessa darted into Gale’s office, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Shit. I think she saw me.”

“You always have quite the way of making an entrance, my love.” Gale peered up at her from behind his desk. “Who saw you?”

“I can’t remember her name. She works down the hall. Talks a lot. More than me.” Tessa pressed her ear to the door, listening for footsteps.

“Ah, Seraphina. I thought you enjoyed her company? You had a lovely time at the last gathering.” Gale turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

“Okay, yeah, sure. But her wife just had a baby.” Tessa huffed and rolled her eyes.

“And?”

“And? The last thing I wanna hear about is how cute their baby is. Her baby isn’t cute. No babies are cute and I will not pretend they are.”

Gale leaned back in his chair. “You don’t find them cute at all? Not even a little bit?”

“Of course not. Do you?”

Three hard knocks rattled the door. “Shit, shit, shit,” Tessa muttered as she ran across the room. She shoved Gale’s chair back and ducked under his desk.

“What precisely do you think you’re doing now?” Gale asked.

“I’m hiding. Tell her I’m not here,” Tessa whispered.

“Get up, Tessa. I simply will not lie for you.”

“If you love me, you’ll lie to protect me from boredom.” Tessa stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“That sounds dangerously close to an ultimatum. Do you recall our agreement?”

“Fine. Yes. You love me, even if you make me suffer. Please, Gale. Pretty please.” She smiled sweetly up at him. “I’ll make it worth it for you.”

“And how will you be doing that?”

Tessa stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly, pouting as she blinked up at him. “You have an hour before your next class. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Gale asked.

Tessa rested her cheek on Gale’s thigh and silently mouthed the word anything.

“Very well,” Gale said. Three more knocks rang out from behind the door. “Come in!”

“Good afternoon, Gale! Is Tessa here? I thought I saw her in the hall?” Seraphina asked.

“Unfortunately, you just missed her. She was in a bit of a hurry this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see. Well, do you have a moment?”

Tessa placed a hand on Gale’s inner thigh, inching closer and closer to his —

Gale stiffened and grabbed her wrist to stop Tessa from getting any closer.

“I’m — uh — quite busy myself. I do have a rather daunting mound of paperwork to complete before my next class. But, what’s on your mind?”

“I’ll keep it brief,” Seraphina said. “I was hoping to tell Tessa all about our little Jamie. He is such a curious thing already.”

Tessa wriggled her wrist to distract Gale as she moved her free hand up his other thigh.

Gale cleared his throat awkwardly and snatched up that hand as well.

“I’m sure she would love to hear all about the little scamp. Perhaps we can schedule a lunch together next tenday.”

“That would be delightful,” Seraphina said. “While I’m here I should mention I managed to find an old tome with details on that ring you inquired about. I left the thing at home, new baby brain and all, but I will bring it tomorrow.”

Tessa froze. Ring? What ring? They were on the same page, right? No marriage. No babies. Just. This. For now, anyway. Surely he wasn’t . . .

Read on AO3.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale bg3 #gale smut #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #bg3 smut #af.op

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dedicatednotobsessed · 1 year

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Bound in Fire and Blood [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings in this chapter: None.

A/N: Soooo this chapter was supposed to come out much sooner but I got shadowbanned which meant I could post BUT my post wouldn’t show up in the tags. All because I made a joke and hurt a Team Black supporter’s feelings 😂 (I mean it could be a glitch BUT it was a coincidence that I got shadowbanned after they sent me a message 🥴. Look, I am genuinely Team Green but don’t come attacking me for it. I laugh at Team Green memes the same way I laugh at Team Black memes. Please and thank you xx). Anyway, sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy the chapter. 💚 Update: it was a glitch on their end but my tumblr is back 🥰🥰🥰 (the day AFTER I make a backup 😂)

Chapter Six: Dragon Dreams

Gif does not belong to me 💚

“Did you have a good night, husband?” You asked softly, brushing through your white locks as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Aegon grunted a bit, sitting up in your marital bed. He looked as though he had gotten little to no sleep, his short silver hair a mess.

“I did,” He mumbled yawning while running a hand through his hair although it didn’t do much as it fell back in his face.

You nodded a bit, looking back in the mirror. The night before was running constantly through your mind. The way Aemond touched you, it made you feel alive. As though he erupted a fire within you…something you have never felt with Aegon.

You set your brush down although you furrowed your brows, noticing the forming mark on your neck. You placed a hand over it lightly before quickly standing to find a necklace that could cover it.

Aegon watched you carefully with a raised brow, looking down as he poured himself a cup of wine. “Is everything all right, my love?”

You nodded in response as you tried to keep your composure. You never thought about Aemond leaving visible marks, marks that Aegon could possibly question.

Aegon nodded a bit. “Did you do anything last night?” He asked, taking a long drink of his wine.

You looked over at your husband, meeting his violet eyes. He seemed to be suspicious of your frantic actions, but didn’t say anything as he turned back to his cup of wine.

“It was a rather boring night. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it,” You replied quietly, looking down at the necklace in your hands before carefully putting it on.

Aegon hummed in response, downing the rest of his wine and pouring himself a second one. You watched him before turning away and sighed standing up.

“Are you to be attending breakfast with me?” You asked softly.

Aegon waved his hand a bit. “I’ll be there in a moment,” He groaned, moving his hand to his head.

You watched him for a moment before nodding and heading down out and down the hall. You clasped your hands in front of you, a small smile coming onto your lips seeing Aemond stepping into line with you.

“Good morrow, brother,” You greeted looking ahead.

“Good morrow, Y/N,” Aemond replied, a small smirk on his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” You replied returning his smirk and the two of you shared a small laugh as you headed into the family dining hall where your mother, father, and sister were already eating.

“Ah, I was wondering if you two were ever going to grace us with your presence,” Viserys spoke up with a small smile.

You smiled over at your father and nodded a bit, sitting next to Helaena. You smiled at your sister before taking your cup and pouring some wine.

“Good morrow, sister,” You greeted while grabbing bread and some fruit.

Helaena watched over you quietly before turning away to look down at her own plate. “Bastard prince,” She whispered out causing you to frown a bit.

“Are you all right, Helaena?” You asked, lightly placing a hand on her arm.

Your older sister shook her head a bit. “Y-yes, I’m fine,” She replied quietly.

“Helaena has been acting strange lately,” You told Aemond softly while walking with him through the halls of the keep. “I mean, stranger than usual,” You added with furrowed brows.

“How so?” He asked curiously, clasping his hands behind his back.

You took a deep breath. “She always mumbles about a bastard prince every time I am near her.” Saying those words made your stomach twist with knots.

Aemond furrowed his brows a bit. He sighed softly and looked down, shaking his head a bit. “We all know how Helaena can be. She is such a sweet girl, but her musings never make sense.”

You nodded in agreement, although you could not get rid of the feeling inside your stomach. You were sure enough though that those words meant nothing.

“Are you going to be training today?”

Aemond’s question snapped you out of your thoughts and looked up at him with a small smile. You have been training with your brother quite often and sometimes with Aegon as well. Your mother believed it to be improper of you, yet you really never listened to your mother.

“I can….” You began, tilting your head a bit. “But I want a bit of a challenge today,” You stated scrunching up your nose a bit.

“A challenge,” Aemond repeated, clicking his tongue a bit. “What kind of challenge?”

You smirked up at Aemond. “I would like to challenge my sweet twin brother to a duel.”

He chuckled a bit, looking ahead. “A duel, you say? And what do you want if you win, sister?”

The smirk stayed on your lips the closer you got to the training grounds. “I think you know what I want.” You weren’t wearing your usual flowing dresses, having swapped it out for an emerald green tunic and a pair of breeches with your rider boots. Your silver hair was put up and out of your face.

You turned to face Aemond after picking up your sword, a small smirk on your lips. You twirled your sword a bit getting into position.

“Do you remember what I taught you?” Aemond questioned, looking over you before he tried to strike you. “Do not let your opponent find a weakness.” A small smirk came onto his lips when you blocked his strike.

You looked up into his eye when you came face-to-face, laughing a bit. You suddenly pushed him away and parried his attack when he tried coming at you once more.

Aemond looked you over and chuckled as your swords clashed once more. He quickly grabbed your arm, moving his blade to around your throat.

“And don’t let your guard down,” He whispered in your ear. “Do you yield?”

You tilted your head, a small laugh passing your lips. You pushed him away and in one quick swift movement, you disarmed him and had him on his knees.

“Do you yield, brother?” You returned his question.

Aemond’s eye flickered from the tip of your sword up to your face. He chuckled a bit, pulling his dagger from his belt and in one swift movement, cut your cheek. The watchers around gasped, but the young Prince stood up, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Our champion!” He exclaimed, taking your hand and lifting it in the air as the crowd cheered for you.

You laughed a bit with a wide smile on your lips, looking up at Aemond, your smile forming into a smirk. “I think you let me win.”

Aemond chuckled, looking down at you while lowering your hand. “I would never, sweet one,” He said quietly, reaching up and wiped the blood of your cheek before lightly licking it off of his thumb.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You let out a satisfied moan, gripping tight onto the bed sheets as you leaned back a bit. The two of you were quite sweaty, having a heated moment in Aemond’s chambers, you on top of him.

A small smirk came onto your lips while the two of you tried to catch your breath and looked down at Aemond, giggling a bit.

“If the winner gets this every time, I would not mind you letting me win more often,” You teased, pushing back a strand of his silver hair.

Aemond let out a breathless smile, looking over your body in its natural state. “I did not let you win, my love,” He stated, placing a hand on the back of your neck and bringing you down for a kiss.

You smiled lightly against his lips and tilted your head a bit when you released. “I find that hard to believe.” You scrunched up your nose a bit and laughed when Aemond took you by the waist and dropped you onto the bed.

He hovered over you, a small smirk on his lips. “You have every reason to believe me though,” He said teasingly and chuckled, one of his arms moving to wrap around your stomach.

You smiled up at him as you moved your arm over his. The words Helaena spoke kept playing in your mind: a bastard prince. Your smile slowly fell and looked up at the ceiling, a pit feeling coming to your stomach.

Aemond paid no mind to you as he just held your bare body close to him. You knew what you did was wrong, yet you never thought of the consequences that could come from your infidelity.

{tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @aastridmalfoy || @alexandra-001 || @ateliefloresdaprimavera || @billihill || @bregarc || @chiyausu || @chosogb || @claudie-080102 || @curiouser-an-curiouser || @daddysfavoritesexkitten || @darylandbethfanforever9 || @derzauberermitlilabademantel || @eddies-bat-tattoos || @hansensunshine || @highexpectationsgurl || @l1-l4 || @mendes-bae || @mirandastuckinthe80s || @multitargaryen || @neenieweenie || @princessmiaelicia || @sakuramadae || @thegirlwithoutaname87 || @watermel0nsugarhigh || @whenmypartysover || @xcharlottemikaelsonx || @yckaar || @zgzgzh }

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n0v4t33z · 9 days

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The Syndicate - Chapter 8 : Complications & Whiskey

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 15.9k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), flirting, kissing (yk that cheesy stuff couples do) Mentions of San's past lover being not so cool. (Not edited properly, I'll come back to it when I can)

Nets: @newworldnet

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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Author's Note 💌: Hi! It's been a while since I updated this story, unfortunately I had really bad burnout and kind of struggled writing this chapter. Luckily one of my readers reached out to me which really motivated me to finish this chapter. The beginning is a little bumpy but it gets better! Like always I hope whoever reads this enjoys this chapter and if you didn't keep it to yourself! Again, thank you for remaining patient! (It's 2 am and I'm tired but I still wanna post this rn because I need to get it off my hands asap so I can work on the next chapter) - N🌙

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How did this happen? How did he get my number? Did he bug the hospital room somehow? Maybe Chris’ phone? Fuck. There was a long silence of me trying to process what just happened then Captain Lee continues “I was just calling to let you know you’re more than welcome to come back to the police force.” My blood runs cold causing me to slightly stutter “So how’d you get my number?” He chuckles which gives me a horrible case of my whole body feeling cold “Ah, don’t worry about it Detective I have my methods.”

I nervously laugh and my grip becomes increasingly tight on my phone while I carefully look around making sure no one was watching. Making sure "he" wasn't watching. “Ah well, I’ll think about it Captain but I was just hoping you keep my anonymity since Aurora Syndicate is currently out looking for me.” I’m hoping he doesn’t suspect anything “Oh yes, Detective Bang told me earlier and don’t get me wrong I’ll grant it for you but I’ll let you know that I’m also aware that you know I worked with The Obsidian Dragon. So naturally, if you tell anyone I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of you. So to keep tabs on you, you’re coming back to the police force whether you like it or not.”

I put my hand on my forehead and push my bangs back and hold back tears “What do you mean Captain? Why am I being forced into this? This is why I disappeared, to distance myself from this. I can't go back.” Captain Lee clicks his tongue a few times and says “Well, I’m sure you do know investigating these Mob bosses will get you killed so you should know that once you step into the world of corruption and ghost money your only way out is death whether you’re involved or you’re investigating it.”

He isn’t wrong, every single word he’s saying is right. I got myself into this mess and now I’m stuck. The only words that manage to leave my mouth are “Okay then, when do I go back?” I’m going to regret this. I could hear the smile in his voice “Anytime you want, preferably on Monday but don’t worry you’ll be doing desk jobs until you’re cleared. or until I feel you're good to go” I silently nod then I say in a very hushed tone “Alright, see you then Captain Lee.”

I hang up and clench my phone in my hand trying to blink back tears. I can’t cry here. I wipe away the stray tears before I buy the groceries. Once I've paid for them I put my phone on factory reset and throw it away into a trash bin outside the grocery store and head back to the tattoo shop. This is not good, I'm worried as to how he got a hold of my phone number. I didn't even give it to Chris. I'm terrified he probably knows more than what he leads on.

When I arrive to the hideout I notice everyone was still asleep so I stand in the dark kitchen and silently cry for a few minutes. I know everything will change after this. They’re all going to stop trusting me, not that they trusted me much anyway but what worries me the most is San. I might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.

Once I start cooking I notice Seonghwa sleepily rubbing his eyes and says “Hey, good morning no wonder I smelled sauteed meat and garlic, you’re in the kitchen.” I smile and nod “Yes, you’re spot on. I decided to cook for you guys since your cook isn’t here. I’m afraid it won’t be as good though.” Seonghwa raises his hand and shakes his head “Nah, it can’t can’t be worse than Hongjoong’s cooking. At least what you're cooking smells edible so I’m sure it'll taste just as good as it smells.”

He washes his hands and walks over to me “Need a hand?” I shake my head “Oh no you don’t have to, I was hoping you guys wouldn’t wake up until I was finished” He pats my head “Hm, I’ll help you. I’m awake so I might as well make myself useful” I giggle “Alright, please peel the potatoes?” He nods “Yes, ma’am” after we prepped and cooked everything I exhaustedly sit on the couch then I space out.

I want to tell Seonghwa but I’m scared he’s going to get upset. How do I tell him? Seonghwa soon follows and sits next to me and looks over at me waiting for me to say something. Worriedly he says “y/n? Are you okay?” I look over at him “Hm? Oh nothing I just have alot on my mind as of recently. A Lot has happened.” He nods “I agree, that attack from the feds hit us hard but don’t worry. Everything will fix itself eventually.”

I sigh and reach over to nudge Seonghwa’s arm “Hwa, I need to tell you something. I know I need to tell San right away but I’m scared.” He furrows his eyebrows and looks at me with a huge concern “Did something happen?” I hide my hands under my thighs “Captain Lee called me out of nowhere when I was grocery shopping this morning and he told me I have to go back to the police station again to keep tabs on me or else he says he’s going to take me out. I honestly have no idea how he even got a hold of my phone number, I had no choice but to say yes. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from bursting into tears while he silently stares at the ground for a moment then he cautiously looks back at me “No, no. This isn’t your fault, but you do have to tell San. This isn’t good at all. ” I nod “You’re right, this can’t wait can’t it? I was going to wait until everyone finished eating. Forgive me please don’t tell anyone else about this I’ll tell San myself.” I get up trying my best not to start crying in front of Seonghwa. Before I even have the chance to walk away he stops me tugging on my hand so that I turn to face him. He looks up at me from his seat "Remember, everything is going to be okay even if it seems like there's no way out of it." I force a smile and nod "Right, thank you for being such an amazing friend Hwa." Seonghwa slowly lets go of my hand and nods. "Always." I'm grateful to have a friend as caring as Seonghwa, someone who will comfort me and reassure me when i'm in doubt. I just hope one day i'll be able to return the favor.

When I open the door to San’s room and slowly close the door behind me. I carefully sit down on his bed and gently shake him “San, I have something to tell you.” He quietly hums and sleepily turns to face me trying to blink away his sleepiness “y/n? What’s wrong? Are you okay? You’re awake?” I shake my head trying to hold back tears. I’m so scared. He sits up and grabs my hand and gently kisses my knuckles “What’s wrong?” My lip slightly quivers “I have to tell you something. It’s something kind of serious.” He sits up and gently rubs the back of my hand with his thumb “Well, whenever you’re ready angel eyes.” I tighten my grip on his hand and put my other hand over his and take a deep breath then silently exhale “Well, Captain Lee called me and said I have to go back to the police station again or he’s going to kill me and whoever else knows about him working for The Obsidian Dragon and that he was the true reason why The Phantom died.”

San stays silent for a few seconds then in a low tone he responds “Why?” I stare at his hand then I look over at his body language and I could feel how angry he is right now which is what scares me the most because I know how impulsive he is. As much as I don’t want to look at how angry he is I look up at him meeting his eyes “He wants to keep tabs on me.” He lets out a long sigh and gently kisses my forehead “I promise you’ll be safe.” I look into his hypnotizing dark brown eyes “So you’re not mad at me?” His demeanor quickly changes and gives me his cute dimpled smile “Hey, why would I be? This isn’t your fault at all.” Part of me felt like it was, I feel like a burden now that I know Captain Lee is unknowingly threatening San with me.

“I don’t know, I just feel like somehow it was my fault because I told Chris about Captain Lee being corrupt. Despite that I know deep in my heart that Chris would never say anything.” San’s smile disappears and raises his eyebrow “Are you sure? How do you know it wasn’t him?” I bite the inside of my lip second guessing my previous statement now because of his serious demeanor. “Well, because I know him and he always keeps his word no matter what. That includes secrets. He'd never put me in harm’s way, he’s always protected me so it can’t be him.” He lets out a quiet sigh “Babe he’s a cop what do you expect? He’s going to open his mouth if it benefits him. Especially now since you no longer work at the police station that lead is probably a huge opportunity for a promotion.” I shake my head “No, he’d never do that especially not if it ended up hurting someone.”

He looks at me with a straight face almost like what I was saying is a bunch of nonsense “I’m sorry, I love you but I don’t trust that partner of yours.” I frustratedly put my hands on my forehead “Hear me out, when I told Chris I specifically told him to ask Captain Lee not to release the news of me being alive and to grant me anonymity. Which yes, Captain Lee acknowledged and said he’d agree too if I went back to the station but another thing I told Chris was that Aurora Syndicate was after me and that I needed my anonymity because of that. Captain Lee didn’t know that and he never once mentioned it until I said something about it so if Chris did tell him he would have known that and would have mentioned it first.”

San's eyes slightly narrow “But what if he didn’t mention it on purpose? He’s a cop so he’s great at being able to convince someone with words by conveniently leaving things out.” Okay, as a cop this is embarrassing how I’m forgetting my own methods now. I sigh and lay back onto the bed “Ok you know what?" I frustratedly run my fingers through my hair. "Fine who cares how he found out, the problem is that he found out and now I’m fucking scared to go back knowing I’m only there because he’s going to wait until I fuck up so he could kill me. Even then I still don't want to lose you either.” A big knot grows in my throat, feeling the tears begin to sting my eyes “This is why I'm telling you, because I need your help. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to leave without a word and leave you wondering whether I’m okay or not.”

San lays next to me and wipes the tears away then gently pulls me close to him “You won’t be alone I promise, Seonghwa will be my eyes. I have a plan but that will be all up to you if you want to do this.” I nod “Of course, anything.” He smiles and kisses my forehead “Good girl, the plan is you will be my informant on what the police department is up to regarding Aurora Syndicate. Of course you’ll be under observation so evreytime you do have Information I’ll have Seonghwa send over the information via burner phone and dispose of it after each use to lower the chance of us getting caught.” San gives me the most gentle gaze and gently kisses the side of my head “This is going to end soon I promise, even if you’ll be someone else’s temporarily.”

I furrow my eyebrows and give him a confused stare “Uh what?” He smirks and lifts up my chin “You’ll have to pretend you and Seonghwa are in a relationship because he’s going to be living with you, even though it pains me. I have no choice at this point than to fool Lee for a little while longer while we gather up a plan.” What is this? Again with the fake boyfriend? I look up in disappointment while massaging my temples lightly “Really? How can you be so comfortable sharing me with another man like that? Can't we just be roommates or something?” He shrugs “The thing is if he's not related to you in anyway at all people will start looking into him a lot more, your supposed relationship to him might be a good distraction for them and much more convincing.”

He's really trying to sell me this, it's not a horrible idea but I don't know.. Kind of awkward after what happened between me and Seonghwa last night. “Besides when you went to your funeral with him and he brought you back home safely didn’t he?” I roll my eyes and jokingly retort “Yeah, what if I fall in love with him? Then what?” He smiles and takes my face in his hand “Hm, well then I’ll try to win you back no matter how many times it takes because like I said in the end you and I both know you’re mine. I know my place in your heart and you know mine, we are one. So, no. I’m not worried I'll lose you to him because I know it’s not going to happen. You’ll always be mine in one way or another.” Never have I seen a man so sure about how he feels towards me. How... Nice.

“You really feel that way?” I ask while I gently run my hand along his white t shirt clad chest. “I mean, do you? Because, I do.” he chuckles and raises an eyebrow giving me a dimpled smirk while I try to keep myself composed and nod “Of course I do.” he pulls me in a little closer and kisses me while he gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “No one will hurt you.” I poke his small dimple “I know, I believe you. I’ve seen what you can do.” San smirks devilishly hovering his lips over mine “I can do that and much more, just for you.” I giggle and clear the few stray pieces of hair from his face. His cat like eyes making me dizzy, for a second I forget how lost in his gaze I am until he leans in and kisses my forehead "My angel."

In response I rest my forehead on his shoulder and sigh "I'm tired of all of this San. I want this to stop." He gently presses his lips on the top of my head whilst he holds me close "I know you do baby. I want it to stop too, I want to be happy with you. Soon, okay?" Feeling a tinge of guilt, I bite my lip trying my hardest not to cry despite the huge uncomfortable knot in my throat.

San rolls onto his back and pulls me onto his chest "Let's lay here for a bit." I look up at him "So that's it?" San raises his eyebrow and hums "What do you mean? Was I supposed to say something else?" I shrug "I don't know, you don't seem shaken up over Lee's threat towards me." San runs his fingers through my hair "Well, how do you know I'm not scared?" He's right, maybe he's trying to keep me from freaking out. "Well, for one we moved on from this conversation way too quickly." He quietly stares up at the ceiling for a few moments his fingers now gently massaging my scalp until he finally speaks again. "Hm, well I am scared. I'm also angry and bloodthirsty, but I can't show you that part of myself. I don't want to scare you, I don't want to fuel your brain with ideas of me that might make you not trust me at all."

Okay so I guess I was right, he knows he still scares me to some degree despite loving him so much. I hate how conflicting this is. "I see, so you're trying to spare me from freaking out then?" He smiles gently booping my nose "You got it." I rest my head on his chest and sigh.I hate how my "fake" death ended up becoming pointless, and unfortunately it's probably something Captain Lee will end up blackmailing me with. I thought I was going to catch him by surprise but no, now I'm hoping I can find a way for Captain Lee to get blindsided while still under his observation.

I look up and notice San staring up at the ceiling again then I bury my face in the crook of his neck holding onto him tightly. He turns to me and gently plants a kiss on my temple then rests his head onto mine. “I really am going to miss you.” I lace his fingers between mine “I am too honestly. I wish we could stay like this forever.” Letting him go now seems like a crime, why is it that he terrifies me but yet makes me so happy? “I got so used to having you at my side for so long that I forgot what it felt like to not feel so- I don’t know, alone?” I giggle “That’s a nice way of putting it because I feel the same way.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and shows me his dimpled smile “Yeah?” My ears get hot and I bury my face in his chest causing him to quietly laugh “I swear you’re so cute when you get shy. I’ll miss that too.” I peek and look up at him “Hey, don’t be sad. I did a surprise for you and the guys this morning but I think maybe the food has gotten cold by now.” HIs eyes light up “Wait, wow. I get to try your food?” I nod and awkwardly smile “Yeah but if you don’t like it it’s okay. I honestly hate my cooking but my family strangely seemed to love it so I just wanted to cook for you guys because I trust my family’s opinion on it despite personally not really being a fan of what I make.”

San gives me a dimpled smile “I’m sure it’s delicious angel eyes, I know I’m going to love it so don’t worry. Also, I think we should go eat. I’m sure after everything this morning you’re probably really hungry.” He smirks and winks at me causing me to cover my eyes. Why is he always making my heart feel like it's going to jump out of my throat? “Stop it. Stop doing that thing with your face again!” He removes my hand from my face and chuckles "Wait, what's wrong with my face?" I shyly look in the other direction avoiding eye contact while my voice slowly trails "Um, nothing. You just.." San turns my face back in his direction "You what?" Stunned, I simply blink back in response until he chuckles and pulls me into a chaste kiss. Once he pulls away he gently runs his thumb along my bottom lip and for a few moments I recalibrate my brain until I finally respond "You're handsome...That's what I wanted to say." San hums and pulls my hand up to his lips gently pressing it onto his lips. "So sweet aren't we baby?"

When we walk to the kitchen we notice most of the guys were in the living room except Hongjoong, Jongho and Wooyoung who were in their respective rooms. I look over at San awkwardly knowing full well that some of them aren't too keen on me. I clear my throat trying to lightly bring their attention “So uh, is anyone hungry?” Yunho looks up from the game he’s playing “Hm? There’s food?” I nod “Yeah, I woke up early this morning to make it mostly because I couldn’t go back to sleep. Do you mind getting the others? I’ll bring Wooyoung’s breakfast later when he’s woken up.”

Yunho nods and walks over to go fetch the 2 others while everyone else takes their seat at the table meanwhile Seonghwa and I set the table while evreyone talks amongst themselves waiting for the others to come. Eventually Jongho, Hongjoong and Yunho sit down at the table with the only person missing being Wooyoung. Seeing everyone here except Wooyoung felt odd considering he was always very much present in the conversations but now that he wasn’t here the table was more at peace or so we thought. Seonghwa looks over at me and San “So uh, why are we here all together?”

San laces his fingers together “Well, something happened this morning.” Hongjoong narrows his eyes "The feds know where we are?" Jongho glances at San "Did they?" San shakes his head then pushes his glasses up "No. Captain Lee contacted y/n about going back to the police station. Of course he knows she’s alive now but blatantly threatened her to come back to the police force because he knows that she knows about his involvement with The Black Obsidian. He says he wants her working there to keep tabs on her which comes to my next statement. We’re starting a very important assignment regarding this issue. Of course the person who’s going to actually be joining y/n will be Seonghwa.”

Everyone is silent then Mingi slowly raises his hand “So it’s just him? What are we supposed to do then?” San nods “yeah, the reason why he’s going is because he’s the only one that that has no file under his name in the NIS data base” Hongjoong looks at San “Neither does Yeosang though.” San looks over at Hongjoong and smirks “That’s the thing, I’m sure Yeosang is not going to want to pretend he’s y/n’s lover. I also know y/n is definitely not comfortable with him either.” Yunho looks over at Seonghwa whose ears were a bright pink hue then back at San “Wait so are you saying Seonghwa is going to go with y/n and pretend he’s her boyfriend? Why though? Is it to keep an eye on her?” San nods then Seonghwa uncomfortably shifts in his seat “Yep, Seonghwa is also going to be the one communicating to us what’s going on at the station since I’m sure y/n won’t even have the chance to since she’ll be under a microscope with Lee.”

Yeosang frowns “So what does that have to do with us? Isn’t it just going to be a mission just for them?” San takes a sip of his warm tea and continues “No, it’ll involve you guys as well but that means you’ll have to lay low. Some will be tailing Lee and other officials working for him that includes y/n’s partner Detective Chris Bang, some of you will also be keeping watch the security cameras at the police station and the cameras near and around where y/n will reside in case anyone is sent by Captain Lee.” Everyone stays silent for a while then Jongho says “Wooyung isn’t part of any of this right? He’s still recovering from that punctured lung.” San bites the inside of his cheek “Yeah, he’s not. I just want him to get better and that means he can’t strain himself so please no one speak to him about this. Obviously I don’t know how long this will take but until he gets better please don’t say anything you all know how he is.” Hongjoong cocks an eyebrow “What about when he asks about y/n? You know how he is with his questions.” Yeosang then says “Just tell him she voluntarily left on her own because Lee found out she was alive.”

San leans back onto his chair “There’s your answer, with Seonghwa just say he went on an assignment abroad. Everyone understand? ” Everyone agrees and say in an untimed unison “Yes boss.” Meanwhile Seonghwa silently stares at the table then he looks at San “So you trust me enough let me pass off as y/n’s lover?” I look over at Seonghwa and can tell he’s probably not comfortable going through with this. San gives him a smile clearly showing him how much he trusts him “Of course, you’ve taken such great care of her when I wasn’t able to. Besides this is all fake anyway.” He understandably nods and says “Alright, I’ll do my best to make you proud again.” Seonghwa catches me staring at him and gives me a sweet smile “I promise I won’t let anything to happen to you.” I nod and try to act as nonchalant as I can “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Meanwhile San pats my head and says “Alright everyone can resume eating now, I heard y/n cooked this for us so let’s not leave anything on our plates.”

Everyone begins to eat and after a few moments I notice a few of the guys nodding in approval. Yeosang then looks over at me and says “Thank you for the food y/n.” Shocked he even complimented me I vigorously nod “Thank you so much but it wasn’t just me, Seonghwa helped me as well. I’m sure if he didn’t help the food wouldn’t have been as good as it was.” Could it be that a way to get to a cold man's heart is food? It's starting to ring true now. Seonghwa chuckles “I only peeled the potatoes and made the rice, it was all you y/n.” With his cheeks stuffed with food mid chew Mingi says “You’d honestly make a great wife, your cooking is immaculate and reminds me of my mother’s” San gives Mingi a stare and I nervously laugh “I’m sure your mother’s cooking is way more delicious Mingi” Jongho gives me a comforting smile “Honestly your cooking is amazing, even if you don’t feel that way. I’m saying that because these guys are so picky that the in house chef we had back at HQ quit after about a month of being there.”

I cover my mouth trying to cover up the big smile on my face then I say “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have such picky eaters like my food.” San puts his hand on my thigh and gently squeezes “See? Don’t forget to give yourself some credit sometimes.” I give him a small smile and nod then I look in the direction of the rest of the table “I know this is random but I just wanted to let you guys know I won’t be outing any information regarding the Syndicate if that’s what some of you are worried about, I’ll take that to the grave.” Jongho sets down his coffee mug onto the table “Don’t worry, I trust you. I’m sure the others do as well to an extent they just don’t want to admit it but I believe you y/n.” Yunho and Seonghwa both nod then Yunho responds while looking directly at Yeosang and Hongjoong “Even then for the ones who still don’t trust you they’ll see you’re not a bad person and you’re worth trusting.” Hongjoong tilts his head “You must be talking about Yeosang and not me. If I didn’t trust y/n I wouldn’t have let her touch a computer and much less suggest to San to let her have her own.”

My lips slightly part looking at the table then I look back and notice Hongjoong’s usual annoyed look replaced with one of a small smile “But also how could I not trust someone who likes Spongebob?” I giggle then I turn to Yunho “He’s right, he’s actually been very nice to me so no worries about that.” He continues looking in Yeosang’s direction “I’m glad to hear, although I was mostly referring to Yeosang here considering how many rude and tasteless things he’s said to you and that doesn’t even include the things he’s said while Wooyoung instigated.” I shake my head “Ah, no that’s okay don’t worry. I respect his reasons.”

He silently nods for a few seconds as if he was unconsciously doing it to calm himself down “You’ll see she’s not a horrible person, and when Wooyoung comes back he’s going to see for himself too.” Yeosang sits there staring at Yunho for a few seconds then stands up silently and walks to his room leaving everyone in shock. Why do I always cause these things, if someone isn’t getting upset over something I did someone else is getting upset over something someone did to me. I wish this wasn’t the case, it only comes off that I’m the one causing problems.

San glances at Yeosang’s empty seat then back at me “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine he just can’t stand being wrong.” I silently nod then San smiles and says “Everyone is dismissed for now, we’ll talk about everything in detail later…” A few moments later San’s cellphone rings and hurriedly gets up and says “I’ll be back, I’ve got to take this call..” Eventually evreyone finishes eating but San never comes back so once everyone leaves, I stay behind to clean the dishes while Seonghwa clears the table. He silently walks over to me holding a few plates gently setting them down onto the sink and walks back to the table to retrieve more. He’s awfully quiet.

Should I say something? I stare down at the bubbly water in the sink until I finally speak “Why’d you stay? I would have cleaned up, it’s fine.” Without turning in his direction I could hear the slight clinking of the glasses as he steps in my direction again. “I wanted to, besides it didn’t sit right for me not to clean up after myself.” I dryly laugh “You mean after your friends?” I turn to Seonghwa who walks up next to me and sets down the glasses next to the sink and gives me a smirk “Exactly, you need my help. Scoot over.” I roll my eyes and scoot over, giving Seonghwa room to stand next to me and begin to dry off the plates I've already washed. For a while he and I clean together in silence until unexpectedly I hear “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting the call to be this long but something came up.” Both Seonghwa and I turn to San and he continues “I know this is very short notice but do you mind coming to something with me tomorrow night angel eyes?” I glance at Seonghwa who looked just as confused as I then back at San who was standing at the entrance of the kitchen waiting for a response “Aren’t we supposed to lay low?”

I ask slightly unsure, San gives me a reassuring smile “We’ll be okay. I just wanted you to meet my mother and sister, you know since Seonghwa here knows them I think it’s a good idea you meet them as well. I’m almost positive you three will get along.” I can’t meet his family, what if they don’t like me and they send for me to get killed? Especially if they find out I’m a former cop. Seonghwa glances at me slightly concerned “What if she just stays home and rests? She’s been through alot these past days.” San lets out a sigh and pats Seonghwa's back turning his attention back to himself. “Jongho, you, and the rest are coming so we’ll be fine. Besides, if she doesn’t want to go she's more than welcome to stay home.” Well, I guess I have a social affair to attend to now. At least now I'll get to do a little familiarization with San's family.

"I'll go..I don't mind sounds fun. I'm kind of tired of being couped up." San gives me a small smile "There you go, you heard the lady. She's going." Seonghwa quietly washes a glass under the warm running water while I dry off my hands on the hand towel next to the sink “What exactly is this thing we’re going to?” San walks over to me holding back a big smile “It’s my sister’s birthday” He gently rests his hand on my uninjured shoulder “I wanted you to join us. I know you’re supposed to be resting right now but Jongho will be there, so I promise you’ll be okay. Besides I figured you'd like to know who works for us and how deep our business runs. ” I slowly nod “Okay sure, but what am I supposed to wear? I didn't bring anything with me, much less anything that covers up what happened on my shoulder..”

San shakes his head “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything.” He glances over at Seonghwa and says “Make sure my mother doesn’t find out about the specifics with the police, I don’t want her to worry. There’s also a small job I need you to do for me. Mingi will be joining you.” Seonghwa nods obediently “Noted, but what happens if she asks why Wooyoung isn’t there? She knows he’d never miss anything like this..” San stares off into the distance for a moment “He had a family emergency and he wasn’t available.” San seemed to have become a bit haste to which Seonghwa seemed to pick up on and responds “Oh, okay that seems plausible.” San motions him in the direction of the living room “Mingi’s waiting.” Seonghwa sets down the dishes, wipes his hands dry on the hand towel next to the sink and excuses himself.

I notice there’s this weird tension between them but I can’t put my finger on why they feel that way towards each other or if it’s mutual. “You remember Nari? She’s coming over to get you ready for tomorrow.” Oh, it’s the same woman that did my hair and got me dolled up for my funeral. I guess it makes sense, she’ll probably know what the family approves of. “Sounds nice, she was nice..” I look down at the ground not wanting to meet his eyes. San gently turns my face in his direction with his eyebrows softly furrowed “What’s wrong angel eyes? Are you okay?” I sigh and lean into his touch “I’m scared. What if they hate me?” San gently caresses my cheek with his thumb “Babe, I promise they won’t hate you. I’ll just tell them you’re not involved in the business so they won’t ask you any questions over who you're affiliated with and who you work for.” Wait, does that mean he’s going to tell his mom about us? “Wait, why would you tell your mom that? Are you going to tell her about us?”

He nods and takes both my hands gently bringing them up to his lips “Of course, but I’m still going to tell her not to speak on it to anyone and to pretend you and I are simply colleagues in the eyes of others but she’ll know.” San lies alot, which worries me. If he easily lies over the smallest things like this does that mean he’ll easily lie to me? “You’re lying again.” He dryly laughs and pulls me closer to him “My mother won’t speak I promise, if she was able to keep my dad’s deepest darkest secrets I’m sure she can keep our relationship a secret. I felt like it’s something we should do before you’re gone, I want at least someone to know about us..” if only he knew that someone does know, just not who he thinks it is. He leans in and gives me a quick peck making sure no one was around then gently pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear “You trust me right?” Stupidly enough, like always my brain decides to completely betray me and respond without thinking “I do.” He gently kisses my forehead and softly says in a low voice “My beautiful angel.” Everytime he calls me that it makes me melt, and I think he knows that.

“I’m going to give you a more dramatic look today, obviously still within the likes of Mrs. Choi” Nari gently works in some sort of eye primer on my eyes using a soft brush and begins to work on my eye makeup. After a few minutes of her working her magic I have a sudden urge to ask her a question “Nari, I have a question..” She softly hums and I clasp my hands together “Do you know Mrs. Choi and San’s sister?” I concentrate on the gentle brush strokes to calm me down for some reason slightly afraid of her answers “I do, they’re very sweet. I work with them quite often actually. I just saw them this morning.” I quietly hum then Nari continues “How come? Are you worried about something?” I let out a soft sigh “Well, I’m scared they might not like me. I heard what the mother did to one of San’s exes and ordered for her assassination.”

The older woman clicks her tongue “Well, do you know what happened?” What happened? What does she mean? Does she mean that woman did something to upset San’s mother? “Uh, I mean no. Not really that’s honestly all I could dig up, besides San’s never mentioned any of his exes so I genuinely don’t know the full situation” Nari pops her gum followed by the smile in her voice “I can tell you, I’ve been working for the Choi family for years…” I softly gasp and open my eyes “Wait, for how long?” Nari gives me a soft smile “ I was hired personally by Mrs. Choi ten years ago, ever since then I’ve been doing her and her daughter’s makeup for public events..”

Nari gently has me close my eyes again and continues “Anyway, as you know her name was Hae Jihye she and San dated for a few years. I believe it was about 5 or so years but they eventually became engaged, both were pretty young but since the Choi family was so well off Mrs. Choi encouraged them to get married. She was very fond of Jihye up until San found out she was secretly seeing another man and stealing money from him and ordering shady dealings without double checking these were allies and not possible undercover cops. Up until her death she always said it was because San never gave her attention and because she felt lonely but everyone close to the Choi’s know he treated her like his princess. He would have brought her the moon if she so wanted, he gave her everything. Open.”

I open my eyes and see Nari begins to fill in my eyebrows and continues “Anyway, it so just happened the real reason was that she thought San was a huge pushover and was only planning on marrying him for his money and the Choi’s heavy influence. She wanted to be someone important since she came from a poor background.” Poor San, he gave his heart to this woman and she stomped all over it… “So when Mrs. Choi caught wind of it thanks to San’s best friend Wooyoung she began to conspire against Jihye. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned..” Nari smooths out some sort of face primer on my skin, her hands being gentle against my skin then quickly begins to work on my base “She got Kang Yeosang, one of San’s associates to carry out the assasination and right as she was exiting the beauty salon she was shot and killed. Just to add insult to injury Mrs. Choi sent the hand of Jihye’s secret lover to her grieving family along with a note that read “Hope you enjoy this small gift!” and that was that. ”

I look at Nari giving her a very unnerved expression “Wow that's…heavy.” Nari nods while gently powdering my face “So lesson of the story is don't be an opportunist and Mrs. Choi will be kind.” I know Nari and San said Mrs. Choi is nice but I can't keep myself from thinking she's going to find something she doesn't like. What a great time to overthink. “Actually, San doesn't want to tell her about me being a cop..” Nari begins to gently apply my lipstick with small gentle strokes “Sweetheart I think you should just be honest, I mean you've been all over the news recently. I'm sure Mrs. Choi knows exactly who you are.” Oh my gosh how could I forget about that?! She's right, it's going to be a horrible look if I lie to her right from the start.

“I should let San know, you know like about me not wanting to lie to his mom not what happened with Jihye. I'll definitely never mention her ever.” Nari then raises her eyebrows “So, are you going to tell his mom you two are thing?” Her question catching me off guard I almost choke on my own saliva causing me to swallow quite hard. For a moment, I struggle how to answer until I finally but hesitantly respond “Well honestly, I think it’s a bad idea that I tell her we’re together especially if she knows I'm a cop. Despite how nice she is, she has too much history between my previous boss and her family, not the good kind either. Knowing she’s willing to kill I think I’m going to steer clear from her radar as cowardly as it seems.” Nari rests her hand on her hip “So, what do you plan to do?” I sigh “Well, continue to keep it a secret.”

Nari furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms in front of her chest “But for how much longer? You know, Mrs. Choi isn’t getting any younger and eventually she’s going to ask San to marry again. You do understand right?” She’s right, Mrs. Choi is definitely going to ask San to marry only it makes sense for him to marry of someone of his status and the same lifestyle as his. As much as I love and I’m in love with him, we’re too different to be in each other's life in the long run and only confirms what I've been thinking this whole time which is to just enjoy it while it lasts. “I do, which is why I'm going to backtrack telling her about our relationship but not who I am. That I can't lie about, as scary as It is.” gives me a soft smile “Well, it's settled.. Also, we should get started on your hair. Your dress should be arriving sometime soon!” I nod and let out a nervous sigh. I have to brace myself for everything. I will try my best to look like a good person.

Later after Nari is done with my hair, makeup and dressing me I look in the mirror and honestly just like the first time I'm not disappointed in what I’m seeing just a little weirded out that I can look this good. My hair was loosely curled, like those gorgeous movie stars on tv, the makeup was light (For my taste at least) so that it complimented my features. Meanwhile the dress that was picked out for me was a satin strapless asymmetric neckline dress with a high slit on the right side of the dress luckily it was a long dress so it covered my legs really nicely and it wasn’t as showy as I thought it’d be considering how high the slit is. Finally to cover up my wound Nari carefully drapes a gorgeous white fur wrap over my shoulders. Nari steps behind me and hands me a black pair of designer high heels. It’s those shoes that movie stars wear, the ones with the red soles. I let out a gasp and carefully take the shoes as if they were made of glass “Nari, are you sure?” Nari smirks “Of course I’m sure, you’re wearing vintage Mugler.. You can’t just wear any old pair of shoes.” I give her a nervous smile and carefully put on my black high heeled shoes. Nari then steps back and gives me a proud smile “You look amazing y/n, I hope you feel as pretty as you look. “ I smooth out the soft fabric beneath my fingers and nod “I do, thank you for everything..” The older woman smiles and shakes her head “Thank San, he asked me to do this for you.”

Of course he did, this man is all about the details. Now it was about that time I look for San so that I could talk to him about what to say to his mother. Right after exiting my room I'm soon greeted by a dressed up Jongho who’s jaw immediately drops “Wow, you look amazing y/n. I uh- San is waiting up front, he asked me to guide you into the car.” I give Jongho a smile and tease him “You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor or a fly will go in there.” Jongho chuckles and leads the way while I silently walk behind him. Awkwardly enough I had to walk into that tattoo shop dressed like this but unlike before all eyes were on me which made me alot more nervous so I gently hold onto Jongho’s arm so that I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself in case I trip over my dress. Once outside I realize it was beginning to get dark out that’s when Jongho opens the door to the expensive looking car and lo and behold San was there.

His hair was now cut shorter than before with a small strand of hair framing his face, whilst he wore a white dress shirt with a few buttons undone and a buttoned up black vest, a back blazer, with matching slacks and shoes. He looked so immaculate and perfect, that In the moment I think I almost forgot why I was even there to begin with until San gently grabs my hand and gently tugs on it. I blink a few times and it’s like I rebooted remembering where and why I was there. San gives me a small dimpled smile and I get into the car sitting next to him. His cologne slowly bringing me back to reality “You look gorgeous angel eyes.” I glance over at him, his eyes looking at me like he was devouring me with his gaze which was making me painfully shy, that is until I remember I needed to tell him something. San gently reaches for my exposed thigh and gently squeezes causing my ears to begin to burn and I mindlessly respond “And you look handsome Sannie..”

San leans in and gently kisses me whilst his hand squeezes my thigh a little harder leaving me to let out a soft sigh whilst he deepens the kiss. I only allow myself to indulge in the kiss for a few more seconds until I gently pull away while gently pushing him away. He gives me a confused look then furrows his brows “Angel eyes are you okay?” I nod and gently smooth out my dress “Yes, I just wanted to talk to you about something before we arrive at your sister’s party.” He gently takes my hand and nods “Sure, what is it?” I glance over at San whose eyes were soft again, a complete one eighty from a few seconds ago “We should just tell your mom that I’m a cop, you know it’ll be much easier than lying” San looks at me slightly worried and looks down gently rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand “Um, I don’t know about that..” I tilt my head “How come? Is it because I’m going back to the station next week? You know she’s probably seen the news..”

San lets out a sigh and stares down at my hand for a few moments before he briefly glances back up at me me then says in a lower almost worried tone “That’s why, because I’m sure she’ll like you but once she realizes you’re a cop she’s going to bombard you with questions..Assumptions.” I reach over and take San’s handsome face in my hands gently caressing his soft skin “And that’s okay, it’s valid on her part considering the previous history between cops and your family. I understand.” He gently takes my hand in his lovingly squeezing it “Are you positive you’re going to be okay with the questions?” I nod giving him a reassuring smile “Of course Sannie, let’s just be honest for once. This is something so important to me that I want to be honest out of respect to your mother and our relationship, please. Just this once I don’t want to lie about something I can’t hide. I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not even if your mother ends up hating me for it, it’s the risk i’m willing to take.”

San gives me a dimpled smile, takes my hands from his face and gently kisses them “You really do have a heart of gold angel eyes.. No matter how hard things get your intentions are always well intentioned.” I look down and press my lips into a curt smile “One more thing.” San gently turns my face to face him "What’s that?” Not wanting to meet his eyes I look down at the collar of his shirt “I thought about it and I don’t want your mother to find out about us.” San gives me a confused look “Wait- but..” I nod “I know, I just said that I didn’t want us to lie but I was talking about things I can’t hide.. Besides we’re technically not lying if you just don’t mention it.” slightly upset San takes my arm and tightly squeezes it but only enough to get my attention “But you agreed with me yesterday, why the sudden change of mind?” I shrug “I don’t know I just did a lot of thinking and it doesn’t make sense to come clean right now, it’s too soon.”

San lifts up my chin to meet his eyes while holding on to my arm, they were sad with a hint of anger. He looked genuinely hurt, but now it’s complicated. I need to see how his mom will react to the news of me being a cop, then I’ll know my answer. I need to tread lightly with this family because I truly don’t know their intentions. For all I know this is all a part of San’s plan to get me to trust him then get me killed once I do. Even then I doubt San will hold on much longer, Nari is right his mom is probably looking for someone he could marry right this moment which is why he wants to tell his mother. “As much as I strongly feel the complete opposite, I'll respect your wishes. I understand you’re nervous.” I sigh “I’m sorry but can you blame me? Any regular person would be terrified considering how powerful your family is. I don’t want to fuck up.”

San loosens his grip on my arm “I’m sorry I’m forcing you to do all these things so fast. It’s just-” He shuts his eyes and rests his head on my shoulder and lets out a long sigh “It’s my mom, she’s been looking into having me marry the Iceman’s daughter, Jisu.” I furrow my eyebrows “Why?..” He stares down at himself gently squeezing and holding onto my forearm “Business.. And because she’s close friends with Iceman’s wife.” Wow, yeah. I think involving myself even more will be a death sentence. What if she has me killed because she wants San to marry into her friend’s family? “Ah, I see.” I stiffly nod. I knew it, his mom already has eyes for someone. San raises his gaze and looks at me with concern painting his features “You’re upset aren’t you?” I shake my head and fake a laugh “No, I mean I saw it coming. I understand.”

San gives me a very unamused look then the driver driving our vehicle clears his throat and says “Sorry for the interruption boss, but we’re here.” San nods slightly detached still fixated on my expression “Yeah, okay. Thanks Woosik.” I feel horrible pissing him off but I think this is it. I’m so cowardly. Almost as if a switch went off he gently takes my hand and kisses the back of it “I’ll introduce you as a colleague okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable let alone feel like i’m forcing you to do things you don’t want to..” I nod and lean in to gently kiss his cheek then I give him a soft smile “Thank you..”

San’s expression brightens up a bit and gives me a small dimpled smile “Are you ready angel?” I nod and he gives me a sweet smile. Next to me the door opens and a very well dressed man helps me out of the car and soon after San steps out right behind me. He then gently rests his hand on the small of my waist and gently guides me to the big mansion, that house.. It’s huge. The Choi family is loaded. It’s everything you would have imagined in a mansion: the fountain, the gates, the two sculptures near the entrance, the beautiful decorative trees adorning the front of the house.

The times I’ve been to houses like this is usually when we’re going to arrest someone or when we’re investigating the murder of a high profile person which isn’t very often so to see this gorgeous house and being dressed in designer from head to toe, it makes me feel like I'm in some sort of movie. Once we’re inside the faint sound of classical music fills the air along with the high class ambience immediately making me straighten up my posture. All the people here look expensive, it also kind of freaks me out knowing that 90 percent of the people here are more than likely white collar criminals. I look over in San’s direction slightly worried only for him to give me a small reassuring smile. ”Follow me.” I grab onto the sleeve of his blazer following behind him quietly whilst he makes his way to presumably his mother.

We approach a gorgeous older woman who obviously didn’t look her age but could tell her age based off of what she was wearing, which was a long semi fitted dark blue dress with a high neck “Mother, I’m here.” The woman turns her attention away from the woman she was speaking to and gasps “Sannie, you made it..” San pulls the shorter woman in his arms and hugs her tightly “You know I’d never miss my sister’s birthday.” She pulls back gently cupping her hands on his face with a smile. “My son, my strong handsome son.” Both him and his mother chuckle then she pulls away and looks around us “Where’s Wooyoungie sweetie? Last time I talked to him he said he’d come..”

San takes Mrs. Choi’s hand “Ah, yeah about that. Wooyoung couldn’t make it tonight he had a personal emergency.” Mrs. Choi worriedly furrows her brows “Oh my- Is he okay?” San nods giving his mother a reassuring pat “He is he’s fine, he’s just dealing with a few private matters that couldn’t be postponed and were very last minute.” Wow, he’s good at lying to his own mother too that’s actually scary. He’s not even hesitating. The mother understandably nods “Well I hope whatever it is I hope he sorts it out soon..” Mrs. Choi then turns in my direction, for a few seconds she examines my face then she says “Oh hello, wow who is this gorgeous girl Sannie?”

I reach out and shake his mother’s hand politely smiling “Hello Mrs. Choi I am Detective y/n y/ln, I’m one of Mr. Choi’s current colleagues. His connection to the Ulwood PD. ” His mother’s eyes widen slightly then quickly composes herself before San says “She’s been a great help helping me track Lee and his other people..” For a few moments San’s mother stares at me “Are you really working for the Aurora Syndicate? Are you sure you don’t secretly work for the police to turn my son in?” San chuckles gently patting his mother’s back “She’s fine mother, I made sure of it. Besides she has her own grudges against Lee, I promise you she won’t betray us.” Mrs. Choi nods “You’re that detective that was found dead aren’t you?” I nod and lightheartedly chuckle “Yeah, that’s me. So you have no worries about me turning on anyone.” Mrs. Choi looks over at San and smiles “Look at you, giving that old bastard a taste of his own medicine. You’re definitely your father’s son.” San nervously laughs “Mom..”

A gorgeous long dark brown haired woman approaches us, her eyes were sultry and had a very mysterious and intimidating energy surrounding her. Her gaze looking straight at San, almost like he was some sort of target to her. “Hello, how are you on this lovely evening?” Mrs. Choi turns in said woman’s direction and smiles “Jisu sweetheart, hello how are you? I’m glad you could make it!” Jisu smiles and reaches for Mrs. Choi’s hand and gently pats it “Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I’m glad I could be here for Haneul’s big day.” Mrs. Choi smiles “Thank you” Jisu looks back at San and smiles in his direction “Is this the infamous Choi San?” Mrs. Choi chuckles and gently pats San’s shoulder then San responds slightly hesitant “Yeah, you must be Jisu. My mother’s mentioned you before.” Jisu reaches over to shake San’s hand and for a moment her hand shake lingers.

A bit shocked she’s holding onto his hand and not letting go until he pulls away his hand and puts it in his pocket. Mrs. Choi looks at both San and Jisu “I did, did I also mention you’re both the same age? I’m sure you two would get along very well.” Jisu looks in San’s direction tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear “Of course we will, San seems like a person I’d get along with perfectly. He’s so hardworking and it shows.” Jisu smirks then shifts her gaze over to me where her smirk slowly disappears then she softly laughs “Oh my- I’m sorry hello, who are you?” I give Jisu curt smile and extend my hand “Detective y/n y/l, I’m currently working for Mr. Choi.” She raises her eyebrow “My, my I didn’t know San was willing to be risky, you feds are hard to trust. Nine times out of ten you have ulterior motives.” I chuckle feeling the venomous intent behind her words. “Well then I guess I’m the 1 out of 10 who has no ulterior motives. Mr. Choi knows he’s in good hands trusting me. Am I right Mr. Choi?”

I turn to him giving him a small smile. San immediately picks up on what I was trying to do and responds “Of course, she’s shown me her loyalty multiple times. At the end of the day we both have the same goal so why not team up with someone like minded.” Jisu hums then shrugs “Well, as long as you’re confident that’s all that matters.” Mrs. Choi gently takes my arm and says “San, I need to have a word with Detective y/ln. Do you mind keeping Jisu company?” San looks at me sympathetically then back at his mother “Ah, yes mother.” Jisu looks in my direction, smirking almost like she knew this was something I couldn’t get myself out of. Almost like she expected the worst. I’m worried. Did I say something wrong?

Mrs. Choi quietly walks me out of the room the party was being held in and once outside in the hallway she lets go of my arm. Expecting her to maybe say something she continues walking in silence unnerving me even more as the seconds go by. I walk behind her until we enter the big marbled floor living room, she motions me to sit down on the expensive looking velvet couch which I oblige. She walks over to the small cocktail table and serves us both drinks, I'm presuming whiskey. At this point I’m beginning to get very impatient. What exactly was the reason I was pulled away from everyone else. What is she going to tell me? She sets my drink on the coffee table then sits across from me while she holds her whiskey in her hand. I clear my throat running my fingers along the soft fabric of my dress “So, uh what did you want to talk about Mrs Choi?” She takes a small sip of her drink the gently rests it on her lap ”So you said you work for the Ulwood police department correct?” I nod carefully clasping my hands together and gently resting them on my knees “Yes, correct ma’am” She swirls her drink in the heavy crystal glass whilst I carefully reach for my drink on the table “In the police department? I work under Captain Steven Lee Ma’am.”

She’s not going to like this..I know it. She slightly raises her eyebrow “Very interesting…You do know your Captain killed my husband right?” I nod looking down at my drink slightly bowing my head “Ah, yes Mrs. Choi I was the one in charge of the case. We arrested the people who were involved in the murder.” Like San, his mother has a very intense stare only this time making me very more nervous knowing the lengths his mother is willing to go for her son so I can only imagine what she'd do for her husband. “That you did. Unfortunately you missed the main culprit.” Her words felt like swords stabbing right through me. Words that immediately make my stomach drop.

“I’m aware Mrs. Choi, unfortunately when San showed me what Captain Lee was really up to everything finally made sense. He purposely would steer things away from anything that he thought would get him caught, at the time my partner and I didn’t really understand why he wanted to be so heavily involved in the case since usually he’d be the one to usually just assign them and just stick to focusing on the department’s strategy. So I assure you I didn’t know anything until I met San.” Mrs. Choi stares at me unmoved, a complete 180 from when she was with San and Minia. “I understand, I'm sure that bastard has everyone back at the station fooled..” I nod respectfully agreeing “Yes, unfortunately even the best one among us got fooled. Which is why I’m working with San to put that man down.”

God, I sound so pathetic saying it like that. “So what’s your reason for helping my son? What did Steven do to you?” There’s the question I was waiting for. I let out a long sigh then I meet Mrs. Choi’s eyes finally lifting my gaze to meet hers “Well, San kidnapped me to get Captain Lee back but unfortunately he gave up trying to get me back once he realized he was going to have to expose his crimes to everyone so instead he left me for dead in hopes San gave up threatening him and I’d get killed. Luckily San did the opposite and instead had me pretend I was dead, which unfortunately caused me to lose everything I had; friends, family, career, my home..” With the last words quietly being trailed off from my throat growing a huge knot. Is she going to sympathize with a cop? Someone who works under the man who killed her husband?

Mrs. Choi’s gaze grows a bit soft and sets down her half filled glass on the arm rest of her seat “I am so sorry this happened to you. I can only imagine how many more people are suffering at the hands of Steven.” She’s right there are probably quite a few people getting blackmailed to do his dirty work for him. No doubt. “I just want to make sure you mean well working with my son, because if your intentions are not pure- and please do not take offense but a mother will do everything in her power to protect her son no matter who it’s against.” Ah, just what I was dreading. Nice. “ I understand Mrs. Choi, you have my promise there will be no moves on my part against San. I’m fully on the Aurora Syndicate’s side, you have my word.” Mrs. Choi Smiles “ I have one last question for you y/n.” I nod, taking a sip of my drink, the warmth slowly trickling down my throat and to my stomach. Yep, definitely whiskey. “Sure Mrs. Choi go ahead.”

She gives me a mischievous smile her finger tracing along the rim of her drink “So y/n what do you really think about my son?” I run my finger under the crystal glass trying my hardest to stay calm “Hm, like as a person?” Mrs. Choi warmly smiles clearly trying her best to get me to open up “As a man sweetheart.” My throat tightens causing me to clear my throat. “Oh, uh I mean he’s very handsome, and of course very kind.” Wait, why is she asking me this? “He definitely is, he takes a lot from his father…” Wait that’s all she was going to ask? I mean yeah it’s kinda weird but that’s it? “There’s one thing I will tell you is that my son tends to be quite flirty sometimes and I want you to pay no mind to him” No mind to him? Like ignore him? “Uh- Could you elaborate Mrs. Choi?” She sighs “To be frank, I don’t want you to get involved with my son. I understand you’re working with him but just leave it at that. Nothing more.” Is she really starting to pin this on me? Like I know it's true but oh my gosh how does she know? What gave it away…I need to convince her otherwise or I'll be in big trouble.

“My apologies for asking Mrs. Choi but why?” Mrs. Choi scoffs then retorts in a venomous tone “Because I don’t trust you. No matter what Steven Lee did to you, you’re still working under him. I don’t want San to fall for the same bullshit my husband fell for with Steven. That tragedy is not going to repeat itself again.” I carefully set my glass back onto the glass coffee table and I shake my head “I assure you that’s not going to happen Mrs. Choi. San and I have grown to be very close friends from sharing the same hatred for one person and the last thing I'd ever do is betray him. If anything I owe him my life.” Mrs. Choi seems unconvinced from my plea. “Then know that your place here which is only to help my son get rid of the man who killed my husband and not being romantically involved with him.” I drink the remaining whiskey in my glass in one go to prepare myself “Again, my apologies but I never explicitly stated my feelings towards Mr. Choi. I only really said he’s good looking and has a great heart.”

The woman rolls her eyes at me like just told her the stupidest thing on Earth “You were the one my son was shopping for. I asked you if you were the deceased detective because my son was telling me he was shopping for someone special. The problem is one of his associates let it slip that the girl he was shopping for was “the detective” After a bit of pondering I put two and two together. The last time my son went out of his way to spoil someone like that he was engaged to his former sweetheart.” I’m guessing San is not the type to gift just anyone, they have to be special to him. In that case, I'm special to him.. Wow. “You’re not wrong about your son getting me things, that’s true. That’s only because I needed them. What’s not true is my relationship with him. We’re simply friends.”

Without hesitation Mrs. Choi throws her drink at my face and gets up looking down at me “Don’t get smart with me, stay away from my son.” Her heels clack away little by little becoming more faint while I blankly stare down at the marbled floor in disbelief, my eyes blinking rapidly from the alcohol burning my eyes. She really knows. It's like she stays out of San’s business in front of him but behind his back she gets rid of people she deems useless for her son.. It’s probably why San is insisting of only a few people knowing his true plans. Unfortunately I understand her fear of trusting a cop, it’s completely validated. The thing is I’m not liking how this played out, we’re off to a bad start. Judging from the small things San would tell me about his mother, she seemed nice but now not so much. At least not when you get on her bad side.

Eventually I manage to clear my eyes, my face and ears are burning out of embarrassment. My lap and chest wet from the whiskey, once I manage to stand up I walk back into the party. I let out a long sigh and look around, trying to ignore the wet dress against my skin and my hair and makeup feeling gross. Maybe I should get San out of talking to that girl. He didn’t seem too comfortable with her. I walk around looking for San not really paying attention ahead of me until I accidentally bump into someone with my shoulder causing me to hiss in pain tightly clutching onto my wounded shoulder. “I’m sorry, are you okay? y/n?”

I look up and notice a worried Seonghwa staring down at me whilst the other people he was talking to just silently stare at me. Gosh, I’m so glad to have found someone I recognize. Walking around with a bunch of people I don’t know was starting to make me really uncomfortable considering how horrid I probably look. “I’m fine, sorry I was looking for San. He was with a girl.” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow then he excuses himself from the people he was talking to and walks a few steps away from them pulling me aside “A girl?” I nod looking around trying to see if maybe San was anywhere close by. “Yeah, her name is Jisu, really pretty, looks like a model.” Seonghwa slowly nods “Ah, yes. His mother is trying to set them up..” He looks around and steers me in the opposite direction I was walking “I think for now it’s best you don’t interrupt them, you don’t want to upset Mrs. Choi.”

I glance over at Seonghwa and scoff looking away, feeling the tears in my eyes making them sting “I already did that, can’t you see my makeup is all runny?” Seonghwa turns my face in his direction and slightly squints, gently pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear inspecting my face “Your makeup is fine surprisingly, your hair though. It’s a bit-” I look down clearly embarrassed “I know, ugly..” Seonghwa warmly smiles and takes out the handkerchief in his breast pocket gently patting my face and hair dry “No- I mean your hair looks wet.. What happened?” I close my eyes for a bit to force my tears back into my eyes when I open them I pull his hand towards the exit “I can’t say it here.. Can we go outside?” Seonghwa gently rests his hand on my uninjured shoulder “Before we go, are you hurt? Do we need to get Jongho?”

I look under the fur wrap at my wound and shake my head “No, I’m fine. I just bumped it a little.” He reaches over and links my arm around his “Alright good, this is so you don’t fall by the way. Those shoes look like an accident waiting to happen.” I roll my eyes and laugh “You do know I wear heeled shoes to work sometimes, I have no issues walking on high heels.” He shrugs stifling a laugh “So? What if you fall? In front of all these people..”

Well he’s right, that would be embarrassing and I’ve been embarrassed enough tonight “Okay fine..” Seonghwa starts to guide me out the door until we step outside the chilly evening. “Geez, it’s kind of cold.” I slightly shiver and hug myself standing behind one of the statues at the top of the stairs leading to the door. Seonghwa unbuttons his blazer about to take it off before I panickily mumble “No please, it’s okay…” Seonghwa looks at me for a moment and asks “Are you sure? I don’t want you to catch a cold..” I shake my head forcing a smile “I won’t I promise.” He stands next to me clearing his throat “So, what happened?” I look down and let out a soft sigh and for the first time tonight I begin to really process what happened making my throat grow a knot again. For a few moments I struggle to get the words out until I finally blurt out “San’s mother, she hates me.” Seonghwa gives me a very concerned look “What? Mrs. Choi? How?..” Slightly frustrated I hug myself tighter, tears now rolling down my cheeks “ She found out about me and San, she doesn’t want me to be romantically involved with him because she thinks I’m going to get into his head and basically be the downfall for their business..”

Seonghwa lets out a sigh and pulls me into a hug “I’m so sorry y/n. Did she find out through you or-” I sniffle and pull away looking up at an uneasy Seonghwa “I tried to deny it, but she found out through a slip up with one of the associates, not sure who it was but they referred to me as “the detective” when talking to his mother over who San was shopping for..” Seonghwa lets out a long sigh and rubs his forehead slightly frustrated “San’s going to get pissed..” Once he lets out his small frustration he gently pats my head gently pushing it back onto his chest “Do you want to leave? We don’t have to stay here if you’re uncomfortable.” While my head gently rests on Seonghwa’s chest I look at the entrance for a few long seconds “I don’t know, I feel like maybe I need to go tell San over what happened with his mother. He seemed pretty worried when she asked me to talk.”

Seonghwa gently clears the stray hairs on my face “San will understand, don't worry. I can call him and let him know that I’m taking you home.” I worriedly look at Seonghwa “Are you sure? You don’t have to, you can just give me the keys and I can drive myself.” He chuckles and gently pats my head “It doesn’t bother me, I promise. Besides I can’t let a girl looking as pretty as you drive herself home alone.” Seonghwa pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolls on his phone for a bit then puts his cellphone to his ear, where you can faintly hear the dial tone until you hear San’s voice “Hey, y/n isn’t feeling too well. I’m taking her home.” San’s voice responds but I can’t make out what he’s saying, only that he sounded a bit annoyed. Seonghwa then responds “She’s not feeling too well being here-” Suddenly Seonghwa stops talking while San says something to which Seonghwa tensely responds “Ah, okay then we’ll be out in the front waiting.”

San curtly responds then the call ends rendering Seonghwa to awkwardly let out a sigh putting his cell phone away then slowly pulls back and looks at me forcing a smile “Change of plans, San’s going to take you instead. He asked me to stay and talk to some investors.” I raise an eyebrow “What? I thought he was busy.” Seonghwa gently pats my head and chuckles “Well, I guess he’s not too busy for you. Which is good, maybe he’ll learn to take time to himself instead of working all the time.” Seonghwa looked kind of upset now, although he’s really good at hiding it; his tense body language and his faint darkened mood replaces his usual warm and caring demeanor which is what gave it away. “I’m sorry, for bothering you Hwa.” Seonghwa gives me a faint smile then turns to look at the horizon.

The sky being painted a beautiful shade of sparkly dark blue now as opposed to earlier. “You don't need to, if anything I'm glad we bumped into each other. You needed someone after that encounter with Mrs. Choi, I know right now you’re holding back trying not to cry as much as you’d like.” Unfortunately he’s right, I can’t bawl my eyes out like a child here. Not only would that be embarrassing for me but I know it’ll be embarrassing for San as well. “Yeah, considering what my job is, I kind of have to keep it together even if I am a crybaby when I’m alone.” Seonghwa glances over at me “Just know with me you never have to hold back, I know we still don’t know each other very well but I’m here.” Seonghwa has always been very kind, although I feel weird confiding in him now considering how we’ve gone through the unfortunate situation of him seeing my true relationship with San. I guess it’s nice knowing I have a friend in these situations “Thank you, it means a lot.” Seonghwa gently nudges my arm “So are you going to tell San what happened with his mother?”

I stare at the ground for a few good seconds, before I’m even able to say anything the front door opens followed by “y/n are you okay?” I glance up and it’s a worried San hurriedly walking in my direction, Seonghwa steps aside letting him stand next to me where he reaches over for my arm. “Uh..” Seonghwa looks at the both of us then slightly bows in San’s direction “I’m off, I hope you make it home safely y/n” I give him a reassuring smile then Seonghwa looks in San’s direction “I was keeping y/n company but now that you’re here-” San pats Seonghwa’s back turns him towards the door “Yeah I’ll call you if I need anything, thanks for keeping an eye on her.” Seonghwa forces a smile and excuses himself without saying anything else. What was that?

“Why didn’t you let Seonghwa just take me home? Weren’t you on a date?” San dryly chuckles “What? No.. I mean I was with Jisu but I promise you it wasn’t a date. I was just appeasing my mother since I really didn’t want to upset her here.” San takes my hand gently pressing his lips onto the back of my hand “Enough of me though, what happened?” I let out a long sigh and start walking down the stairs “We have to get out of here, I’m not risking anyone overhearing us no matter how “Safe” it is here. “ San follows behind not letting go of my arm “Wait, is it really that bad? Was it some asshole that said something to you or was it my mother?” San’s last words render me to make the knot in my throat break knowing damn well I wasn’t going to make it without crying. “Baby?” San stands still causing me to be pulled into a complete halt “Look at me, it’s okay. I’m here, I'm not going anywhere.” He pulls me into his arms where he gently presses his lips on my shoulder “Don’t cry, please. We’ll go into the car and talk about this okay?”

San digs into his pocket where after a few moments I hear the sound of his car beeping which was luckily nearby. He pulls back cupping my face looking into my eyes, his usual intimidating gaze is now soft trying his hardest to comfort me “Come on baby, car’s over there.” He grabs my hand and we walk to the car whilst I quietly sniffle behind him. When we finally get to his car he opens the door to his expensive looking car and lets me in. Surprisingly it wasn’t a sports car but a luxury car that looked like it cost more than the average person’s yearly income. I better not let any tears fall onto the seat if that’s the case. Once San enters the car and closes the door behind him he turns in my direction and reaches for my hand “Okay, now tell me what happened?” Still teary eyes and without even letting silence run by that long I blurt out “Your mother knows about us San, the thing is she’s not happy about it.” San furrows his eyebrows “Wait? What? How?” I shrug blinking back my tears “From what she told me is that one of your associates let it slip.” San’s gaze darkens which is the look I was most afraid of seeing. “Who was it, I need names y/n..”

I shake my head my tears running down my cheeks while I slightly stumble. “I don’t know that’s just what she told me, she specifically said he referred to me as “the detective” and of course she pieced it together saying that you don’t usually go out of your way to gift anyone anything especially if it’s a woman. She said that when you asked her for advice on how find a dress she asked you who you were shopping for to which you simply responded “Someone special” which gave her a hint of what type of relationship it was” San stays silent gently rubbing his thumb on my hand whilst he listens. “She also said she didn’t want anything between us because she doesn’t want a repeat of what happened to your father which I understand and I guess to explain my wet hair she kind of threw her drink at me.” The air changed, he’s upset. I can feel it.

He clenches his jaw while he bounces his leg trying to dissipate the anger. He sits there in silence for a few seconds before he finally gets up and exits the car angrily. Terrified of making it worse I get out of the car and speed walk behind him “Please, don’t tell her anything..” He silently walks in the direction of his home most. I speed walk a little faster finally catching up to him immediately reaching for his hand with tears blurring my vision. “San! Please!” He comes to a halt once those words leave my lips and halts glaring at the Choi’s property, his eyes seething with anger. I stand in front of him and tighten my grip on his hand. “Please, let’s just go. It’s okay, I just need you to be with me that’s all..” San’s gaze stays fixed to the house in silence until he finally utters “I really am sorry y/n, I’m so sorry my mother treated you like this. You didn’t deserve this at all, you have no idea how much it pisses me off. I could have avoided this happening to you had I gone with you instead of obeying my mother. I trusted she wouldn’t pull something like this..” I walk into his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out. We don’t want to ruin your sister’s day do we?” San’s eyes remain angry and cold while holding onto me.

Once I manage to get him to get back in the car San practically glares ahead of him then turns on his car anger seething through him. “Put your seatbelt on we’re getting the fuck out of here.” Obeying him I immediately pull the seatbelt over myself clicking it into place “Where are we going?” He grumbles “Somewhere that’s not here.” He pulls out of the driveway and the tires screech as we drive through the gates and back to the long pathway leading out of the Choi’s property. I notice San’s tight grip on the shift gear making the veins in his arms pop out that’s when I reach over and rest my hand over his “I’ll be fine, it hurt but I’ll be okay. I’ve been treated much worse.” San looks ahead keeping his eyes on the road but still very clearly upset “You don’t understand y/n , all my life my mother’s been like a saint to me. In my eyes she could do no wrong because that’s how much respect I have towards her. The thing is this time she’s wrong, you’re nothing like Lee, you’re a godsend, someone I was so happy to have met even if they were all under the wrong circumstances. My angel.” I gently hug San’s arm whilst holding onto his hand “See? All it matters is that you recognize it.” I still hate that his mom ended up hating me, but I saw it coming. “I know, I just wish she saw what I see in you, the sweet, hardworking and strong woman that I fell for.” I gently squeeze his hand on the gear shift and kiss his cheek “She will.” She won’t, and I know that because I know you’ll go on to marry someone who fits your lifestyle.

“So Mr. Choi, where are we going?” He gives me a dimpled smile while keeping his eyes on the road “Hm, is there anywhere in particular you want to go angel?” I hum watching the cars ahead of us pass by “I’ll go wherever you go Sannie, just being with you makes me happy.” He quickly leans in and kisses my forehead before he says “Take a nap baby, you had a long day. I’ll wake you up when we get there hm?” I adjust in my seat resting my head against the head rest and cross my arms in front of my chest. As soon as I close my eyes close San lets out a groan “Why’d you let go of my hand?” I open my eyes and look over at a pouty San “What? I was going to leave you alone so you drive comfortably”

He lets go of the gear shift and takes my hand lacing his fingers between mine “Who said I wasn’t comfortable?” I giggle “Okay fine, my mistake my pouty boy.” He feigns a pout trying not to smile but completely fails. “Ah, look it’s your dimples! Look, you're smiling!” San chuckles “No I’m not!” I reach over with my free hand and poke his dimple “Oh but Mr. Choi you are look I just poked your dimple..” San keeps his eyes on the road then gently brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my hand “Go to sleep detective or I'm afraid I’ll end up crashing this car if you keep distracting me with your antics.” I slowly nod stifling a laugh “Fair enough I’ll sleep, it better be good.. ” I close my eyes and pull San’s hand onto my lap, until the car’s movement lulls me to sleep.

“Wake up angel, we’re here.” San gently strokes my arm while I slowly stir awake, the distant sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. I open my eyes and see a smiling San by now he had removed his blazer now leaving him with his vest and dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up like usual while resting his forearm at the top of the car door way “Ah, look at you. Such a beauty..” He looks over at the sand then back down at my shoes “Hm, I think you might want to take those off.” I kick off my high heels and throw my fur cover up in the back seat. “You’re right high heels in sand aren’t fun.” He gently leans in and and kisses my forehead before he helps me step out of the car. “We came to the beach..” He nods gently squeezing my hand in his “We did, do you like it? I know it’s dark right now but you can still see pretty well from the lights” I look at the waves being delicately illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

“I love it, but why exactly are we here?” San brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my hand while we both walk towards the beautiful ocean “I wanted to cheer you up, what happened tonight was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go alone with my mother so I wanted to make up for it somehow even though it doesn’t undo everything that happened.” I stop us a few feet before the shore and I turn to face San, he looks down at me gently running his thumb along my cheek. I lean into his touch and hold his hand onto my face “Don’t worry. Whatever happens, happens. I’m used to hatred coming my way.” His brows inch together “You shouldn’t say that though. You should always have love coming your way because you deserve to be loved.”

I look up at him and examine his face, he’s so beautiful, just like his words. “Your words are so pretty Mr. Choi, you always manage to remind me why I love you so much.” San nervously chuckles then cups my face with one hand and pulls me close with the other “My words are only pretty to resemble the one who receives them.” He leans in and kisses me, his soft lips very tenderly latching onto mine whilst he holds me close to him. My hands slowly run up his chest while my feet slowly sink into the sand below me so I tip toe to reach around his neck, San notices this and breaks the kiss. “Having trouble baby?” I pout feeling a bit embarrassed “No..” San chuckles planting a kiss on my cheek “You’re so cute..” I pull the front of my dress up “I bet you can’t catch me..” He raises his eyebrow and smirks “I think I can.. Go ahead and get a head start..”

I stick my tongue out at him and run ahead along the beach as fast as I can while giggling knowing he was dumb enough to give me a head start. Just as quickly as I ran a gap between us he quickly catches up to me and carefully throws me over his shoulder as to not hurt my injured shoulder and slaps my butt. I loudly gasp playfully smacking his arm “San, stop!” He chuckles and slaps my butt again and defiantly squeezes it “This is fun actually. So soft.” Catching me off guard I squeal and cover my mouth embarrassed that someone might see us and pat his back. He gently lays me down on the sand the crawls on top of me and places his soft lips on mine.

We kiss for a few moments before he lays next to me and lets out a soft groan. I reach over to hold his hand and we both look up at the beautiful glittery sky where he says “Are you happy with me y/n?” I turn to look at San who was looking up at the sky his lips pressed together anticipating my answer. “Of course I am. You have no idea how happy I am every time I see you. Although we can’t really hang out like a normal couple I still really like being around you.” He holds back a smile and nods, kissing my hand for the nth time today.

“Good, because I wish you were with me a little longer. I don’t want you to go.. You’re the only one who doesn’t force me to wear the mask I have to keep on every single day since my father died.” I bite the inside of my lip and silently stare up at the sky, for a moment I don’t know how to answer. How can I? So I stay silent for a bit trying to figure out what to say, maybe.. “So, are you finally admitting that San likes to be San and not an evil criminal?” San chuckles and lets out a soft exhale “Yeah, I do like being San even if I try to hide it most of the time, it’s better than having enemies you didn’t know you had and having to keep your guard up every time you meet someone new.” I’m surprised he’s not a paranoid mess all the time with the amount of people constantly going after him.

“I’ll be your safe space. Always, just find me when you need me.” He lays down on his side propping his head on his hand “Be careful, I might kidnap you from the station and this time I won’t return you..” I boop his nose and giggle “You have to return me silly, or we won’t get rid of our mutual enemy.” He pulls my face close to his and before he pulls me in for a kiss he says “Screw that man, I want my girl by my side..” He kisses down to my neck burying his face and letting out a soft sigh. I gently stroke his now shorter dark hair without messing it up too much “You know what’s funny?” San lets out a soft hum and I continue “This dress is a vintage Mugler and I got whiskey on it and now a bunch of sand is all over it..”

San lifts his head and looks up at me “So?” I scoff and a dryly laugh “It’s ruined..” San gives me a dimpled smile “Don’t worry about it, I’ll buy it. As long as my angel is happy I don’t mind.” I blink in confusion and shock “But it’s expensive-” He gently covers my mouth “It’s fine, I promise. Besides it got ruined because of me so don’t feel bad.” He kisses my neck one last time before he lays his head back down on his arm “So, do you want to go home?” I exhaustedly hum and he gets up “Come on, I’ll carry you to the car.” I shake my head “No wait, it’s okay. I want to hold your hand again.” San helps me up raising his eyebrow “You really are a softie Detective..” I roll my eyes and lace my fingers between his. “You like it though.” San sucks his teeth “I do. Alot. Do it more often.” I glance up at him, the moonlight hitting his features at just the right angle making my heart skip a beat. “Yes Mr.Choi..” I got whiskey thrown in my face today but somehow San made me feel better.

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