#upper gun deck

[ltwilliammowett]

The upper gun deck of HMS Victory - habitat of the guns, sailors and marines 

[ppjeterka]

is it just me or does tye kartye look like dylan o brien

[careypricey]

Im gonna throw up I want it so badly

[inbabylontheywept]

Soviet Birds.

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Our hope was that that this vague and nonsensical threat would put a little fire under Uncle Sam's feet. If the fed couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the giant gaping holes in the roof of our facility, perhaps they could be persuaded to give a shit about... Soviet Spies.

This attempt at manipulation 100% blew up in our faces.

See, the government does not need to be persuaded to give a shit about Soviet Spies. It still wakes up most nights, drenched in cold sweat, terrified and confident that a Soviet Spy is hiding in their nightstand. If it sees a rock on the ground, it flips it over, pistol drawn, ready to shoot the Soviet Spy it fully expects to slither out from underneath. Which is to say: The government is crazy. So when we dropped those two words - inflitration risk - in the repair request, they came in guns-a-blazin'.

Does that mean that they fixed the roof? Of course not. Don't be stupid. No, instead of performing basic maintenance, they installed a state of the art alarm system throughout the facility - lasers, sonar, the works - and told us to always be on the guard. Because of the roof holes.

Then they left.

So now we had an extremely good alarm system... and birds. Which have combined in incredibly obvious and predictable ways to produce an unending fountain of problems.

For Example: About once a month, someone gets called in by the local airforce dispatch because AAAAAAAAAAA a Spy is in the Rad Lab! We're all gonna die! Except every time, it's a bird. And I get why we have to check, but every time, the dispatcher is panicked and the person going out has to be like listen, listen: It's a bird. It's always a bird. It's been a bird every month for the last fifteen years. It will be a bird next month. All this stress? Bad for your heart.

Second Example: Sometimes, birds get in while we're actually working. And when it's in the morning, you know, it's a nuisance, and it stops testing (we are not going to risk irradiating a bird) but it's not an all-hands-on-deck situation because it doesn't take ten hours to get a bird out. But surprisingly often, the bird gets in riiiiight at closing time, and in that situation, everyone goes feral because nobody can leave until the alarm is set, and we cannot set the alarm while the bird is there, because the bird would immediately trigger it and then we'd have to stay another 4 hours to confirm that it was not a Soviet Bird.

So in order to go home, everyone's top priority is Get That Bird. And we have a system for it.

Step 1: The test stands tend to be located in rooms with 30+ foot ceilings. We can't catch birds in places like that - so we have to lure the bird into the relatively low ceilinged (8 feet only) upper offices.

We do this by turning all the lights off in the test rooms, then putting floodlights by the exits. I don't know why this works - some kind of evolutionary brain fragment shared by both Bugs and Birds - but work it does. The birds almost always follow after the lights. From there, it’s just two guys moving the floodlight and a third guy to turn off the lights.

Step 2: Everyone else has been waiting for this step. There is this long stairway up from the basement level into the offices, and in the final stage, the floodlights are brought to the base of the stairwell to bring the bird up. At the top of the steps there will be a group of tennish people, waiting for the signal. The light guys will set up the final transfer, everyone will tense, and then, swish...a bird will flit up the stairs and into the offices.

It's like watching werewolves on a full moon. Before the bird cometh, we are engineers. Nerds. Pale and skinny things, trembling under the fluorescent lights. After the bird, we are beasts. Feral, gnawing things, glowing under the orange sunrise of the 70's halogen floodlights.

And like all beasts, we cannot help but give chase.

Step 3: The were-engineers begin the hunt. The goal at the start is not really to catch the bird - just exhaust it. So the pack simply does not relent. Because the stakes are going home on time, the group is basically given free reign to go anywhere in the building. If someone's door is open, and the bird goes inside, they're going to have to deal with ten sweaty panting maniacs leaping around their office. They don't get to say that they're busy, or remark on how all this movement is a terrible distraction. They are allowed to sit in silence during the chaos, and perhaps thank the war party for chasing the bird while they sat comfortably on their ass. This has been explained several times, and it will continue to be explained until cooperation is achieved.

Anyway.

The chase can go on for quite some time. Sometimes, the bird will get tired and find a crevice to hide in, where it can then be reached through standard cornered-bird catching techniques.

Other times, it will slow down enough that someone can actually yoink it out of the air. But this will go on until someone catches the bird and triggers Step 4.

Step 4: The Finale. This is the get-the-bird-out-of-the-building stage, and it requires someone to adopt a specific role: To Become the Sacrificial Vessel of Bird Removal.

This job is both coveted and feared. It's coveted, because holding a wild bird in one's hands is a precious thing. To feel how small, and fragile, and scared it is, only to free it from the building? That is what it's like to be a benevolent God. But the cost! Oh, the cost. The entire time the Vessel is in motion, the bird will be biting the hell out of their fingers. And I cannot emphasize enough just how painful bird bites are. Their entire face is a set of needle posed pliers, and they know tricks the even the cartels haven't figured out yet. So there's always a little hubbub about who shall be The Vessel while onlookers, stranded outside The Office of Bird Capture, can only look on. Quiet arguments and pleas are heard, little fragments of fear and pride and glory trickling out of room like the silver dust left behind in a bag of well shook quarters. The sound of concensus is silence, and the argument will go on until that's all that's left. And then, from the darkness of the final office, the chosen sacrifice will step forward: Hands gently cupped, tears streaming down their face, fingers trembling from the pain of the ongoing bird chomps.

And this scene is what organizes people. Not leadership, not truly. No one can think and coordinate a crowd while their fingers are being attacked with a combination nutcracker/ear piercer. But the crowd sees the suffering of their annointed, and it is driven to do everything poossible to make the process flow. People instinctively flair out, finding the fastest path outside. Doors are held open. Paths are cleared. Someone, somehow, always knows the way forward and can describe it to the sufferer. Left, left, forward. Corner closet. Yep, there's a hall in there. Forward. Two-hundred more feet man, you're doing great. Just hold it together a little longer. You're killing it.

Then the final door swings open, and the bird flees out into what remains of daylight. And yet, even here, the deed is not yet done. I cannot explain it in words, but the crowd that helped is never content until they can see and speak on the Bird Vessel's wounds. They all have to pull the fingers back and see what was given. Estimate the price: One day to get better - No, three - No, a week! Are you blind? Do you see that blood blister? -Yeah, that's not going away anytime soon - Damn, can you believe how feisty those things are? Like wolves without teeth.

(They cannot help but touch as they go. It has always been this way. Even Thomas was not content until he felt the wounds in Christ's hands.)

Only when the last of the helpers has seen, and commented, and commended, will the engineers scatter. It is their return from the underworld that announces to the sun living surface dwellers that they too can go home. (@somerunner tolja it needed to be a post.)

[imthebadguyyy]

guilty as sin?

pairing : bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

fandom : top gun

series : the tortured poets department

synopsis : what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?

warnings : smut

a/n : on a major rooster kick right now so all his fics are coming out first!! happy reading! plus this is my FAVOURITE song on the album.

my boredom's bone deep...

The familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the Hard Deck as you leaned against the bar, nursing your drink. Your squadron mates were engaged in a spirited game of pool, their laughter and banter echoing through the room. Despite the lively atmosphere, you found yourself detached, your mind wandering to more tantalizing thoughts.

Your gaze drifted to Bradley, who was standing across the room, effortlessly charismatic as always. His aviator sunglasses perched on his nose even indoors, a casual grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He was engrossed in a conversation with Phoenix, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

You imagined running your hands through his tousled hair, feeling the soft strands slip between your fingers. The way his muscles would flex under your touch, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. Your breath hitched at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks.

Bradley's eyes flickered to you, and for a moment, you wondered if he could read your mind. He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to be interested in your drink, but the image of him lingered in your mind.

The thought of his hands roaming your body sent a shiver down your spine. You imagined the roughness of his calloused palms against your skin, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your heart raced as you pictured the two of you in a secluded corner of the bar, his lips trailing a line of fire down your throat, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

You could almost hear his low, husky voice whispering in your ear, saying things that made your knees weak. The thought of him murmuring your name in that deep, commanding tone sent a thrill through you, making your pulse quicken.

"Hey, you okay?" Phoenix's voice snapped you back to reality. You turned to see her looking at you with a curious expression.

"Yeah, just... lost in thought," you replied, forcing a smile.

Before she could probe further, Bradley approached, his presence commanding your attention. "Need another drink?" he asked, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You nodded, handing him your empty glass. As he took it from you, his fingers brushed yours, a simple touch that felt electric. "Thanks," you managed to say, your voice sounding a little breathless even to your own ears.

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Anytime," he said, his voice low and smooth. He turned to head back to the bar, and you watched him go, unable to stop the explicit thoughts that continued to dance in your mind.

As the night wore on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bradley, each look intensifying your desire. You wondered if he could feel the same pull, if he was just as affected by the charged atmosphere between you. The thought that he might be daydreaming about you in the same way sent a rush of heat through your body.

The Hard Deck was buzzing with energy, but all you could think about was Bradley and the way he made you feel. You knew that tonight, your dreams would be filled with him, and you couldn't wait for the day those fantasies might become reality.

what if he's written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?

The hum of the aircraft engines had long since faded, replaced by the soft rustling of sheets and the gentle sound of your breathing. You lay in your bunk, exhausted from a day of flying, quickly slipping into a deep sleep.

The world around you was soft and warm, the room dimly lit by the golden glow of a bedside lamp. You found yourself in a spacious bed, surrounded by soft, crisp sheets that smelled faintly of Bradley's cologne. The room was quiet, save for the sound of your quiet laughter and the low, melodious chuckles coming from Bradley beside you.

He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, gazing at you with those mesmerizing eyes. His hair was tousled, his face relaxed, and a mischievous smile played on his lips. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, a thrill of anticipation as he leaned in closer.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and warm, sending sparks of electricity through your body. You giggled against his mouth, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more intense, until you were both breathless and laughing.

Bradley's hand trailed down your side, his touch gentle and teasing. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt his fingers on your skin, tracing delicate patterns on your upper thigh. Slowly, deliberately, he spelled out the word "mine" with his fingertip, the sensation making your skin tingle and your breath hitch. Each letter was a promise, a declaration that made your heart swell with desire and longing.

You laughed softly, the sound filled with happiness and contentment. Bradley's eyes sparkled with amusement and something deeper, something that made you feel cherished and adored. He leaned in again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a kiss that made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

His hands slowly moved lower, spreading your thighs apart, lips slowly trailing down your body in a heated trail, kissing your chest, your tummy, your belly button, one hand wrapping softly around your throat, all the way to your hips...

Just as the he was reaching the juncture between your thighs, you jolted awake. The abruptness of reality hit you like a cold splash of water. Your heart was pounding, your skin flushed and warm. The darkness of your bunk contrasted sharply with the golden glow of the dream, the laughter and intimacy replaced by the quiet hum of the sleeping quarters.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The dream had felt so real, so vivid, that you could almost still feel Bradley's touch on your thigh, his lips on yours. The memory of his whispered words echoed in your mind, making your skin tingle with the aftershocks of the dream.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying every moment of the dream. The feelings it had stirred within you were undeniable, and you knew that the next time you saw Bradley, it would be impossible to look at him without remembering the way his touch had made you feel.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would take you back to that dream, back to Bradley's arms, back to the warmth and laughter that had felt so right.

messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts...

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the beach as you and the rest of the squad gathered for a spirited game of volleyball. The laughter and competitive banter filled the air, mingling with the sound of crashing waves and the calls of seagulls. Maverick was in top form, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the game, while everyone else was enjoying the carefree atmosphere.

Bradley stood out among the group, his shirt discarded, revealing a toned, sun-kissed torso that glistened with sweat. He moved with a grace and power that drew your eyes to him, unable to look away. His aviator sunglasses reflected the bright sunlight, giving him an air of effortless coolness.

As the game progressed, you found it harder and harder to focus on the ball. You had opted to just lay on the same after playing for a while, settling on the blue blanket phoenix had got for you, sipping on a glass of fresh watermelon juice, lounging with Omaha on the beach. Instead, your eyes followed Bradley, admiring the way his muscles flexed with each movement, the way he ran across the sand with such confidence and ease. Every time he jumped to spike the ball, you felt a flutter in your chest, your breath catching in your throat.

His abs glistened with sweat as he chest bumped Payback, muscles rippling in his back like waves, denim shorts slung low on his hips, so tight fitting they looked like they were painted onto his legs.

At one point, Bradley looked your way and flashed you a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Your jaw dropped slightly, mesmerized by the sight. His tanned skin, the way the sun highlighted every defined line of his body, left you feeling flustered and warm.

Bob sidled up to you, noticing your slack-jawed stare. "Cherry, stop drooling over him. You'll catch flies in your mouth," he teased, a playful smirk on his face.

You snapped your mouth shut, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I wasn't—" you started to protest, but Bob's knowing look silenced you. He chuckled and jogged back to his position, leaving you to your thoughts.

Your mind wandered, slipping into a daydream where the volleyball game faded away, and it was just you and Bradley on the beach. The sound of the waves became a soothing backdrop as he walked toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

He reached out, his hand warm as it cupped your cheek. "I've been waiting for this," he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. You felt a shiver of anticipation run through you as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

It was a messy top lip kiss, the kind that left you breathless and craving more. His lips were soft and demanding, moving against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak. You felt his hand slide to the small of your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were lost in the sensation of him.

The kiss led to more, each touch and caress igniting a fire within you. You imagined the two of you tangled in each other's arms, exploring and discovering every inch of skin. His fingers tracing patterns along your spine, his lips traveling from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses.

It left you flushed and yearning, the volleyball game and your surroundings forgotten. All you could think about was Bradley, and the way he made you feel with just a look, a touch, a kiss.

A sudden cheer from your teammates brought you back to reality, and you realized you had missed the last few plays of the game. Bradley was laughing with Maverick, his eyes bright with triumph. He glanced your way again, catching your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like he could see the daydreams playing out in your mind.

He licked his pink lips, thumb running over his moustache. You clenched your thighs, instantly thinking about how good it would feel, his face nestled between your legs, lips trailing kisses all over your throbbing core...

You quickly looked away, hoping your flushed cheeks didn't give you away. But even as the game continued, your thoughts kept drifting back to those imagined moments with Bradley, the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, and the undeniable connection that left you longing for more.

these fatal fantasies, giving way to laboured breath.. 

All you could think about was his warm wet tongue sliding up your folds and then his long fingers curling inside you. You imagined his lips on your clit, sucking so harshly it made filthy noises. Your heart was racing as your slid your finger up your folds and began rubbing your clit as your other hand and cupped your breasts, and then pinching and twisting your hard nipples.

Quickly, you slide your finger into your dripping hole and then adding in another one to feel full. You pictured Bradley's cock ramming in and out of you so rough and so fast. You imagined his warm cum filling up your walls. 

Your fingers sped up against your clit, moaning as the image of Bradley licking your pussy flooded your vision. "Fuck! Rooster!" You groaned, hips rising and falling as you chased your high.

"Oh fuck! Shit!" You moaned, hips arching high as you rubbed the sensitive nub faster, head slamming back against your pillow, hips stuttering as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

Your chest heaved, thighs glistening and breath coming laboured as you panted, eyes shut as you inhaled deep breaths of air.

"Fuck me..." You muttered as you slowly sat up. Looking at the time, you cursed when you realised you had to meet the other at the hard deck in half an hour.

someone told me, theres no such thing as bad thoughts ..

How could you face Bradley now, knowing the explicit fantasies that had consumed your mind? Shaking off the feeling, you decided to head to the Hard Deck, hoping the lively atmosphere would distract you and help you regain your composure.

The bar was already bustling with your squadron mates when you arrived. Maverick, Phoenix, Bob, and Bradley were gathered around, engaged in animated conversations and laughter. You could see Hangman, Coyote, Payback and Fanboy playing a game of cards again. You approached the group, trying to appear casual, but you felt as guilty as sin, unable to meet Bradley's eyes.

You slid onto a stool at the bar, your gaze fixed on your drink. Phoenix noticed your uncharacteristic quietness and sidled up to you, concern etched on her face. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, just tired."

Phoenix studied you for a moment before a knowing look crossed her face. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's perfectly fine to have feelings, you know. There's no such thing as bad thoughts"

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, embarrassed at how transparent you seemed. Phoenix gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Seriously, just talk to him."

You glanced up, following Phoenix's gaze to where Bradley stood, laughing with Maverick. He looked over, his eyes locking onto yours, a hint of concern in his expression. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, the intensity of your earlier fantasies making it hard to think straight.

"Go on," Phoenix encouraged softly. "He cares about you. Just talk to him."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. You knew she was right. Avoiding Bradley wouldn't solve anything, and the guilt and embarrassment would only fester if you didn't confront your feelings.

Mustering your courage, you stood up and made your way over to Bradley. He turned to you, his smile softening as you approached. "Hey," he said, his voice warm and inviting.

"Hey," you replied, trying to steady your racing heart. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Bradley's expression grew serious, and he nodded, leading you to a quieter corner of the bar. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his concern evident.

You hesitated, the words tangled in your throat. But the supportive look in his eyes gave you the strength to continue. "I... I've been thinking a lot about you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "And it's been driving me a little crazy."

Bradley's eyebrows raised in surprise, but a slow smile spread across his face. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "I've been thinking about you, too."

The weight of your earlier guilt began to lift, replaced by a sense of relief and excitement. "Really?" you asked, unable to hide the hopeful note in your voice.

"Really," he confirmed, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "How about we get out of here and talk somewhere quieter?"

You nodded, your heart soaring as you followed him out of the bar. As you walked side by side, the tension and uncertainty melted away, replaced by the thrill of new possibilities and the promise of something real and meaningful.

my bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name...

"rooster!fuck!” You screamed out, your toes curling beneath you as bradley continued to flick his tongue over your folds at a ridiculously fast pace.

The room was hot, both your bodies sweating in a tangled mess. Bradley pressed your body firmly down, whilst he kept your legs around his head - trapping him to the spot he desired so much. He kept your hips pressed down with one arm and the other was being used to pump his fingers, unforgivingly, into you. You weren’t able to focus on anything apart from the endless, relentless pleasure he was giving you.

Your fingers tugged against the soft waves of his hair, which made him moan and send vibrations all over your pussy and through your heat. The sounds that filled the room were unholy and wet and downright filthy.

His tongue persistently lapped at your folds, using his fingers to reach the spots inside of you that had you seeing heaven on earth. His tongue felt so good and his fingers even better.

But goddamn that moustache.

All you could feel was the tickle of prickly hair rubbing against your oh so sensitive clit, stroking  it as he moved his face. His movements were so wild and quick that each time he moved let you feel his moustache. Each time he moved a different direction your pussy caught against the hairs and dragged against your skin, causing you to moan out in pleasure. Bradley knew exactly what he was doing. He was filthy and you absolutely loved it.

His fingers pumped harder, curling to reach your favourite and most sensitive spots and his tongue moved faster as you began to reach your high. It didn’t take much for him, with the moustache, to bring you to your release and rooster definitely got off on that. He loved when his moustache got coated in your juices and he could taste it hours later, where he hadn’t quite cleaned himself properly. It was tormenting in a way though, because one taste of you had him on his knees begging for more - he wouldn’t even care if you were beyond spent.

He pulled away to look up at you with endless adoration, and you felt his hot breath fan against your even hotter pussy. . He looked so lustful, eyes blown wide and dark. He was a different man right now - one on a mission to make you scream his name. 

He kept straight eye contact with you as his moustache glistened with a coating of your juices, his eyes remained locked to yours as he ran his tongue over his lips and upper moustache hairs, tasting you without being face deep in you. You groaned at the sight, before deciding you wanted in on the action too.

Leaning up and forwards you smashed your lips on to his, moaning as you tasted  yourself on his lips.  It was divine.  His bristly hairs tickled your upper lips and you hummed at the sensual sensation. He pulled away when he realised you were enjoying this too much, not wanting to distract himself, or you, from giving you the release you so deserved.

"You can kiss me senseless after i’ve devoured you, baby.” He kissed your lips once more and then pushed you back down and reattached himself to your soaking pussy. You cried out at the contact, not believing you ever thought you’d be able to go without the feeling. Nothing would ever compare to this. To him.

“Roo!" You moaned his name in pleasure and returned your hands to his hair, pushing him further into you.

His tongue moved inside of your folds in angles you never knew existed, making your toes curl and your tummy flutter with excitement. You felt your release so close. His fingers entered - one, two, three - and found the right pace to have you completely defenceless below him. You were his to toy and play with, that much Bradley knew. Like this, you were a bowl of jello in his arms, allowing him to tease and pleasure you how he’d like to - with the trust that you’d stop him if he went too far.

“You gonna come for me baby angel?” He rhetorically asked, knowing you were only a few more pumps away from your release.

“Yes, yes just for you.” You gasped as he quickened the pace of his fingers and designated his attention to your pulsing clit.

“Come on then. I won’t tell you twice.” The way the hairs of his moustache moved from his words against yourclit sent you over the edge.

The fucking moustache.

You arched your back and screamed out as he kept pumping his fingers through your release. You grasped onto your breast, needing something to release your frustration into. God you felt unholy and dirty. You felt fucking amazing. Your breathing was laboured and Bradley spent the rest of your high lapping your folds and around your cunt, drinking up every last drop of your release. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would never.

“Can you kiss me now?” You quietly asked and you felt his presence suddenly hover above you, his moustache absolutely covered with your juices. He wore them with pride. He raised his eyebrows at you, hovering just above your lips. “Please?” You stressed and who was he to deny that pouting face of yours. Who was he to deny you his moustache?

I choose you and me, religiously...

The restaurant was bathed in soft, ambient light, creating an atmosphere of elegance and romance. The clink of fine china and the murmur of quiet conversation provided a soothing backdrop as you sat across from Bradley at a candlelit table. The upscale, intimate setting was perfect, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement and anticipation.

You were wearing a silky satin red dress that clung to your curves and shimmered in the candlelight. Bradley looked dashing in his tailored suit, his eyes never leaving you as he smiled warmly across the table. The evening had been a whirlwind of the finest food and wine, each course more exquisite than the last.

As the waiter poured another glass of rich, velvety wine, Bradley reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, sending a thrill through you.

"You look stunning tonight," he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. "I can't take my eyes off you."

You blushed, the heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled at him. "Thank you. You look pretty amazing yourself."

The dinner continued with laughter and light conversation, but you could sense that Bradley had something on his mind. As the dessert was served—an indulgent chocolate fondant that melted in your mouth—he took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that made your heart skip a beat.

"I've been thinking a lot about us," he began, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "About how much you've come to mean to me."

Your heart raced, and you held your breath, waiting for him to continue.

"I never expected to fall this hard, this fast," he admitted, his voice filled with raw emotion. "But here I am, completely and utterly in love with you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you listened, your heart swelling with happiness.

"I choose you and me religiously," he said, his voice unwavering. "Every day, in every way, I choose us. Because with you, I've found something real, something worth holding on to."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and Bradley reached out, gently wiping it away with his thumb. His eyes were filled with love and sincerity, and you knew that this moment, this man, was everything you had ever dreamed of.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I love you so much."

Bradley stood up, moving around the table to kneel beside you. He took both your hands in his, looking up at you with a smile that made your heart melt. "Then let's make a promise," he said, his voice steady and sure. "To always choose each other, no matter what."

You nodded, unable to find the words as your emotions overwhelmed you. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and a future filled with love.

As you pulled away, you looked into his eyes, seeing the same love and commitment reflected back at you. "I promise," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction.

Bradley smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. "Then let's toast to us," he said, raising his glass. "To love, to promises, and to choosing each other, always."

You clinked your glass against his, the sound a beautiful reminder of the bond you shared. As you sipped your wine, you felt a sense of peace and contentment settle over you. With Bradley by your side, you knew that you had found your perfect match, and you were ready to face whatever the future held, together.

what if i roll the stone away?

The squad had gathered at the hangar for a relaxed evening, the familiar scent of jet fuel and the hum of aircraft providing a comforting backdrop. Hangman, Bob, Coyote, Phoenix, Payback, and Fanboy were all there, sharing stories and laughter after a long day of training. You and Bradley were part of the group, but your mind was elsewhere, consumed by the secret you were carrying.

You and Bradley had been secretly dating for a while now. The relationship was a source of joy and excitement, but the thought of revealing it to the squad filled you with nervous anticipation. You worried about how it might change the dynamics within your tight-knit group. Yet, tonight felt different. A sense of determination had been building within you, and you knew it was time to share your happiness with your friends.

As the evening progressed, you laughed and chatted with the others, but your mind kept drifting to Bradley. He caught your eye several times, his reassuring smile giving you the strength you needed. You knew he was ready to support you, no matter what.

Finally, you decided it was time. You excused yourself, mentioning you needed to check something by your jet. The squad continued their conversation, but Bradley's eyes followed you, filled with a mix of curiosity and encouragement.

You walked towards the edge of the hangar, the cool night air calming your nerves. Before you disappeared, you turned back to face the group. Bradley stood up, sensing that something significant was about to happen.

With your heart pounding, you walked back to him, your determination solidifying with each step. The squad’s chatter quieted as they noticed your serious expression. You stopped in front of Bradley, taking a deep breath. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him, a tender yet passionate kiss that conveyed all the love and connection you felt.

When you pulled back, you were met with a chorus of surprised exclamations.

"Whaaas?" Hangman exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

"No way!" Fanboy said, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well, I'll be damned," Coyote muttered, shaking his head with a smile.

Phoenix looked at you, her eyes wide with surprise but quickly turning into a warm, approving smile. Bob's mouth hung open, but he quickly composed himself, giving you a thumbs-up.

Payback just laughed, slapping Bradley on the back. "About time!"

Feeling a rush of relief and exhilaration, you looked around at your friends, their reactions a mixture of shock, amusement, and support. Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his smile beaming with pride.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said, his voice filled with affection.

Phoenix stepped forward, giving you a hug. "I’m happy for you guys. Seriously, it’s about time you both found some happiness."

Hangman chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, this explains a lot. Congrats, you two."

As the initial surprise faded, the group quickly accepted the new dynamic. The conversation shifted to teasing and light-hearted jokes, but there was an undercurrent of genuine happiness and support for you and Bradley.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, the anxiety of keeping your relationship a secret melting away. With Bradley by your side and the unwavering support of your friends, you knew that everything would be okay.

Later, as you headed to check on your jet one last time, you glanced back at Bradley, who was watching you with a proud, loving expression. You blew him a kiss, feeling lighter and happier than you had in a long time.

a/n : i adored writing this!! i hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!! as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

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[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 39 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's not hard for Bradley to convince you to buy a formal dress. He also easily gets you to stop referring to the house as only his. But his behavior after the three of you return from the lake house might not be something you're willing to deal with.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, spanking, pregnancy talk, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley had to laugh, because while the Christmas in July fake birthday party all weekend long had been great, he and Maverick were the ones stuck cleaning up the decorations. 

"They really left us here, huh?"

"Yeah, Mav," Bradley replied. "They really left us here to clean up while they took Noah out for breakfast." But he didn't mind. You told him it would give him a chance to talk to his dad's best friend for a few minutes. 

When Bradley started to disassemble the Christmas tree, Mav asked him, "Are you planning on going to Warlock's retirement thing?"

"Retirement thing?" Bradley asked.

"Yeah. The surprise party. I keep forgetting about it." When Bradley's brow scrunched in confusion, the other man waved his hand. "You'll get an invitation this week. Most of Top Gun is invited."

Bradley felt for a second like he'd finally reached the upper echelon of work related events, because if he did in fact manage to get an invitation to an Admiral's retirement party, it was going to be swanky. "Black tie?"

"Oh yeah," Mav replied as he packed up strand after strand of lights. "Just wear your dress whites."

But that wasn't what Bradley was concerned about. If you needed to wear a formal gown, then you'd need to use your princess credit card. And he didn't want you balking at the price of a dress. He wanted you to go out and find something you wanted to wear for the night, and he didn't want to argue with you about the money. He had plenty of it; that was the downside to losing your parents when you were young and inheriting both of their life insurance policies. 

"Yeah, I can just wear my dress whites," Bradley replied as he decided perhaps you'd respond better to picking out a dress if he promised to spank you afterwards.

Once Bradley shoved the Christmas tree back into the closet, he could hear you pull the Bronco back into the driveway. Maverick handed him a beer, and he was sipping it when you walked in and headed right for him. "Daddy," you whispered, kissing his cheek. Amelia walked in holding hands with Noah, and Penny brought up the rear.

"We brought you some muffins," Penny said, shaking a white bag at Bradley. 

"Thanks," he replied before leaning down closer to you. He could practically still feel the tug of your fingers in his hair as he made love to you last night, once again with his hand over your mouth. "I actually like it better when you make breakfast for us at home," he said softly, just for you. "Did you have a nice time?"

You just shrugged. "The food was good, but the coffee sucked. I miss the French vanilla coffee you bring home for me sometimes."

"In the special Princess cups?"

You practically moaned for him. "I love it when you stop and get me coffee. Do you have any idea how hard I was crushing on you when you would bring that home with you on days when I was babysitting Noah? Or when you started buying French vanilla creamer for your house for me?"

Bradley eyed everyone else out on the back deck while he took a sip of the beer he was still holding and wrapped his arm a little tighter around you. "Tell me, Princess. Remind me. How hard were you crushing on me?"

Your lips met his neck, and sure enough, your fingers went to his hair. He stood there feeling kind of smug as you kissed him and murmured, "Couldn't stop thinking about you. I was so jealous of every girl you went out with. I wanted you to touch me so badly."

Bradley backed you up against the wall and pressed his body to yours. "I knew from the beginning I was wasting my time with them when you were at home."

You let your head tip back against the wall, and he leaned down to kiss you. "Well I'm always at your house now." You hooked your fingers through his belt loops and grinned. "I can't wait to make myself a latte from your fancy coffee maker tomorrow before work. The coffee is better from your kitchen."

Bradley froze with his palm pressed to the wall next to your head and your pretty eyes on him. "Baby, it's our house now."

Your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, "Our house," like it was your fairy tale castle instead of a Coronado bungalow. Like he really was your knight. 

"Hey," he rasped, waiting until your eyes were open again. He ran his fingers along your cheek. "I love you. So fucking much. But I won't spank you ever again if you call it my house. You understand?"

"Daddy," you gasped as he pulled himself away from you and finished his beer with a smirk. Your eyes narrowed, and he should have been alarmed by your smirk that matched his. "If you don't promise to spank me when we get home tonight, I'll paint your entire house beige. And I'll stop buying salad dressing. And I'll go down to the lake right now and catch a pet fish for Noah."

"Fuck," he gasped, actually feeling a little panicky before you and he burst into laughter together. "Damn, you're good. And you know I'll give you whatever you want. But you've got to give me what I want, too. Call it our house."

You pecked his cheek and said, "Let me start packing so we can leave for our house in a few hours."

"That's more like it," he replied as he went to join everyone else on the deck.

-----------------------

You offered to drive, but Bradley told you to relax instead. You and Noah both ended up yawning fifteen minutes into the ride back to San Diego, and then you were both falling asleep. While Noah actually needed the afternoon nap so he wasn't cranky later, you just wanted to enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your face and Bradley's hand in yours. 

You were using his address as your own for work, and all of your mail was being sent there. Your stuff was in virtually every room, but there were still times that it felt like his and Noah's space. The new bed helped you feel more comfortable, and obviously Bradley let you do whatever you wanted throughout the house. But he was right; it was time you started to take ownership. That was your bungalow now with the snag in the living room rug and the crack along the driveway just as much as it was his. You dozed off thinking about the internet tabs open on his phone as he rubbed your left ring finger. 

Once again, Bradley had to wake you up when you arrived. He kissed you softly until your eyes opened to the afternoon sun. "We're home," he whispered. 

"Our house," you mumbled as you sat up straight and stretched. 

"Our house," he echoed. And then your heart melted as he asked, "Do you want to take our son inside while I carry in all of our shit?"

You smiled and turned to see that Noah was just waking up as well. "Yeah, I'll take our son inside." It was the most natural thing you could have said as you pecked Bradley's lips and climbed out onto the driveway.

"Mommy," Noah whined as you unbuckled him. "I have to pee." 

"Keys!" you shouted to Bradley where he was already unloading the back of the Bronco, and he tossed them to you. As quickly as you could, you hauled Noah up to the front porch and got him into the bathroom without incident. "You feel better?" you asked, and he nodded at you.

"Yeah. Mostly because there were no bears at the lake."

You had to stifle your laughter. This child was the sweetest thing you'd ever encountered in your life. "Told you that Daddy wasn't lying about the bears. What was your favorite part of the weekend?" you asked as you helped him wash his hands. 

"The worms."

Once again, you wanted to laugh, because you didn't even need to leave the backyard to find worms, let alone drive hours away to an enormous lake. "Don't tell Daddy that," you mumbled as you walked out of the bathroom to see Bradley dumping bags and boxes in the hallway.

"I think we overpacked," he said as he headed outside for more. "If we go on another family vacation, I'm supervising the packing, because now I know you can't be trusted with it."

"When we go on another family vacation," you called after him. You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen to start making spaghetti for dinner. Then you grinned as you set Noah up with a coloring book at the table. You kissed his soft hair and said, "Don't forget to remind your dad that you still want a dog, okay?"

-----------------------------

When Bradley took a minute to actually sort through the mail from Friday, he found the invitation to Admiral Bates' retirement party. A black tie formal at the San Diego Botanic Gardens. It was in less than two weeks, and his wife wanted it to be a surprise for him. Bradley would have to get his dress whites dry cleaned before then, but it would be harder to convince you to buy a gown. If you even wanted to go with him. 

At the moment, you were reading a bedtime story on Noah's floor and teaching him how to sound out the words. God, Bradley was fucking obsessed with how patient and sweet you were. Noah was snuggled up in your lap, looking at the book and saying the word castle when Bradley walked in. Wordlessly, he sat on the edge of Noah's bed and watched his son work through all the words on the page with your help. 

Maybe you'd get pregnant right away. Bradley didn't know if he'd be able to handle the excitement. He could spend a weekend getting the other bedroom set up as a nursery when it was time. When Meredith was pregnant, she only took him to one ultrasound appointment, but this time, if it happened, he'd beg you to let him go to all of them. Or as many as he could if he wasn't deployed. 

"Daddy?" you asked, handing Noah up to him. 

Bradley was shaken from his very pleasant thoughts by his son in his arms. He smiled and kissed Noah while he yawned before turning and getting him tucked in. "I still want a dog," Noah mumbled as he rolled onto his side, and Bradley shot you a dirty look. 

"What?" you asked innocently as you abruptly stood and headed for the door. You were off down the hallway, running to yours and his bedroom, but Bradley was right on your tail. 

He caught you in his arms as you laughed. "You know, all you've done since you got here is completely wreck our routine," he growled next to your ear as he held you tight. "You've literally destroyed our former way of life."

"What?" you gasped, trying to look up at him.

"You heard me," he whispered, kissing your hair. "You've got Noah reading books and eating homemade meals. You've turned me into a complete fucking mess with your glossy lips and your smile and your little dresses. And you have absolutely no regard for the fact that I get an erection whenever I smell wildflowers." 

You were all giggles now as he carried you to the bed. "It's your fault for being such a Daddy," you whispered with a grin. 

He set you down, and you lounged back against the pillows, your dress resting high on your thighs. Then he pulled the folded up invitation out of his back pocket and handed it to you as he climbed in bed too. "You wanna go with me?" he asked as you read it.

When your eyes darted up to meet his, you whispered, "I've never been to a black tie event before."

"Then you'll need a dress. Where's your phone?"

You bit your lip. "In the kitchen."

"Use mine," he replied, unlocking it and handing it to you with a new internet tab all ready for you to start shopping. "Order some dresses. And go to the mall after work one day this week if you want."

You took his phone but hesitantly said, "If I'm only going to wear it one time, I don't even know what to buy."

"Get whatever you want, Princess," he coaxed. "Maybe something purple?"

"Maybe..." you muttered as Bradley rolled you onto your belly in the middle of the bed. He watched over your shoulder as you started scrolling through some dresses, and he was practically salivating, because they would all look incredible on you. "Purple would be pretty."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, running his hands up the backs of your thighs and pushing your dress up around your waist. You glanced back at him as he carefully started to pull your underwear down. 

"What are you doing?" you asked with a little smirk as he inched your underwear down your legs and set them on the bed. 

He ran his big hands back up to your ass and bent to kiss you there. He could just see a glimpse of your pretty pussy as he kissed along the top of your thigh. "Exactly what you want me to do. But only if you order a dress." 

When you turned back to his phone, he ran his mustache along your perfect, soft skin. You were flawless, partly because of your age, but also because of how attractive you were. He was never going to tire of listening to your breath hitch when he touched you like his. He kneaded and palmed the globes of your ass, teasing down to your pussy with his thumbs until you whimpered. 

He tasted your skin everywhere, his tongue delving into your wetness as he pushed your legs further apart. You lifted yourself up onto your knees slightly, and he let you get away with it so he could taste more of you. But when you started to grind back against his face, he stilled you with his hands. 

"Did you pick out a dress yet?" he asked, licking the taste of your pussy from his mustache.

Your voice was quivering slightly. "I like this one, but it's expensive," you told him, holding up his phone. It was purple and two pieces with a fluffy Princess skirt. The top was covered in beads and would show off the tiniest bit of your waist all the way around. He was practically drooling just thinking about how much fun he'd have pushing all that fabric up to get to you. 

"Order it," he groaned before literally sinking his teeth into your ass and gently biting you so you squealed for him. "Order it right now, and I'll spank you and then fuck you."

"Okay," you moaned, and a minute later, you tossed his phone next to your underwear. "I ordered it." Bradley kissed you all over your ass before collecting you in his arms and draping you over his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

And just like last time, you loved it. He could tell. Every time his palm met your perfect body, you moaned his name and rubbed yourself against his thigh. Your skin felt warm as he soothed you and then spanked you again and again. "You're a good girl when you use the credit card," he crooned before dipping two fingers inside your pussy without warning. 

"Daddy!" you nearly shrieked, grinding back on his hand. He finger fucked you hard before withdrawing and then spanking you with his wet hand. The slapping noise and your reaction to him had him on the verge as he pulled you upright.

There were tears in your eyes and a soft smile on your face as you let him kiss your lips. He stroked his thumb along your cheek and whispered, "Get on your hands and knees."

You nodded and scrambled onto the bed, and he stood there and admired the sight before him. You were all round ass and soaking wet pussy as you pressed your cheek to the bedding and whined, "Bradley." He carefully unzipped his jeans, yanked them down, and thrust all the way inside you. The gentle hiss and soft groan as he filled you let him know you felt good. 

He let you have a few slow strokes before he grabbed you by the hips. Then he fucked you harder as you turned your head to bury your cries. A formal dress. A baby. A wife. He could think about little else besides you at the moment as he fucked you until he unloaded inside you with your name on his lips. 

Bradley knew he was a little rough as his hips continued to jerk, fucking his cum deeper. You lifted your face away from the bedding and started to crawl away from him, giving him a beautiful view of your pussy leaking his cum. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he mumbled, shaking his head and climbing into the bed next to you. "I'm sorry I was a little rough." He was about to ask you if you wanted him to get you off with his mouth or his hands when you very gently reached for his face.

"I like it when you're rough," you whispered, voice full of emotion. "I like it when you're gentle with me, too. I love everything. I love living here with you in our house." You snuggled in closer to him and let your chin rest on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, Princess."

----------------------------

Getting back into your work routine was hard after taking a few days off and sleeping in with Bradley each morning. Dr. Kelly even joked that you looked too well rested. "How was the lake?" she asked, and you immediately thought about Bradley untying your bathing suit on the boat. 

"Great," you replied as casually as you could. "Noah had the best weekend. Once we convinced him there were no bears at Big Bear Lake."

Her eyes went wide as she reached for some latex gloves and followed you toward an exam room. "Could you imagine if he actually saw one?"

You shook your head immediately. "Don't even want to think about it."

As the afternoon wore on, you realized your butt was still sore, and you were hungry for ants on logs. And this was all because you were in love with being in love with the Bradshaw boys. When you took a short break and checked your phone, there was a text from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Hey, I'll be late today. Need to take care of some things at work. Can you pick Noah up?

You let him know you'd be happy to get Noah, and then you realized that maybe you'd get to see Casey, too. You were still giddy at the prospect of annoying her when you arrived at the daycare only to find Geena, the older teacher at the front desk. 

She greeted you warmly and then asked you for your ID. "I know that Casey probably knows you by now, and she's usually out here in the afternoons. But since she left a little early today, I'll just need to check your drivers license."

"No problem," you told her with a smile as you pulled it out of your wallet for her to inspect. She had you sign the sheet on the clipboard and then she vanished to get Noah. You wondered how late Bradley would be, but he never responded to your text when you asked him. Then Noah came running out, and you bent to scoop him up in your arms. 

"Mommy, we painted seashells today!" he gushed, holding up a ziplock bag with his name on it filled with colorful shells. 

"Noah! They're beautiful!" you told him as you waved goodbye to Geena and took him out to your car. "Do you want to turn them into a craft for Daddy when we get home?"

"Yeah!"

An hour later, you were still in your scrubs from work, making dinner while Noah glued some of the smaller shells onto a sheet of construction paper. You stopped what you were doing occasionally to help him arrange the shells to spell DADDY. "Looking good," you told him as he sounded out the letters. He loved reading, and you loved how excited he got. 

You kissed his forehead and then checked your phone as it vibrated on the counter. But when you saw it was your coworker trying to plan a happy hour, you set it down and sighed. You weren't sure if you should make a plate of food for Bradley or not. He'd probably be starving when he got home, so you decided to leave a serving out on the counter for him while you and Noah ate together. But you ended up just picking at your food. You hadn't heard from Bradley in hours. 

"Wanna get changed for bed?" you asked Noah after dinner. He went racing off to his bedroom and dug around in his drawer for his dinosaur pajamas. When he put the shirt on backwards, you helped him switch it around. 

"I want a snack," he told you just as you heard the front door open. Your heart leapt as you and he raced into the living room. Bradley looked exhausted in his rumpled uniform, and he was carrying a light blue box in one hand. 

"Hey, Bub," he said, kneeling so Noah could hug him. "You have a good day?"

"I made you a craft!"

Bradley looked up at you and smiled a little hesitantly. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled as Noah yanked on his arm until he stood. He kissed your cheek as he was led into the kitchen, and Noah showed him the construction paper that was absolutely saturated with drying glue and seashells. "Wow! I love this! I think we need to let it dry overnight though."

"That's what Mommy said," Noah replied as Bradley set him down in one of the chairs. 

"What's in the box?" you asked. He opened it up to reveal a whole variety of pastries. Cookies, cupcakes, brownies and even a donut shaped like a crown. Now you felt bad for being a little annoyed with his lack of communication all afternoon and evening. 

Noah reached into the box, and Bradley snatched up the donut before he could get to it. "This one's yours."

"Thanks," you whispered before biting into it. The outside melted in your mouth, and the inside was filled with rich cream. It was delicious. Bradley leaned down to lick the corner of your mouth, and you felt your cheeks grow warm.

But once Noah was asleep, Bradley took a quick shower alone and collapsed into bed. "I'm fucking beat today," he said with an enormous yawn. "You ready for bed?" 

"Yeah," you agreed as he pulled the blanket over himself, and after you took a long shower he was already asleep. So you just snuggled in next to him, and eventually you fell asleep, too. 

The following morning, Bradley was still sound asleep when your alarm went off, something that never happened. "Daddy," you whispered, shaking him and kissing his cheek. "Wake up." He just grunted at you and rolled over. "Seriously?" you muttered, rolling out of bed since you could hear Noah in the bathroom. You changed into clean scrubs and skipped makeup since Noah was bugging for breakfast as soon as he saw you.

"Eggs or cereal?" you asked him once you had him dressed for the day. 

"Cereal," he replied. "And can I have another cookie? From the blue box?"

"We'll see," you said, setting him up with breakfast and then going back to find Bradley half dressed in his flight suit and messing with his phone. "You're up."

His eyes met yours, and he tucked his phone in his pocket. "Yeah. Sorry, I don't know why I was so tired. Can you drop Noah off so I'm not late?"

You nodded, and he cupped your cheek in his big hand. "Thanks, Princess." Then he grabbed the travel mug of coffee you made for him and took a protein bar and a cookie. With a quick kiss to Noah's head, he was out the front door. 

"Daddy had a cookie," Noah whined. "I want one, too."

You realized there was no point in arguing with him if Bradley was the one setting a bad example, so you carried the pastry box over to the table. You noticed it was from Sweet Dreams Bakery which was all the way across the city. Noah managed to snag two cookies as you stood there with the box open in a daze. Why was Bradley on the other side of San Diego yesterday? It was mostly residential over there.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. You'd be late if you didn't get Noah in the car in the next few minutes. You quickly made yourself lunch and grabbed everything he would need before hauling him out to the car. You gently swiped cookie crumbs from his face and clothes as you buckled him in. "I'll drop you off quickly, and then Daddy will pick you up later, okay?"

Noah just nodded as he smiled. He would probably be on a sugar high within the hour, but at least he would be someone else's problem to deal with then. And you quickly learned that he would be Casey's problem to deal with when you took him inside and realized that you looked like a nightmare compared to her today. She was wearing an outfit so cute, you kind of wished you had one just like it. And she smiled maliciously at you.

"Good morning, Noah," she said sweetly as she practically tossed the clipboard in your direction. She walked him into the classroom as you signed your name and put the date and time. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, handing the clipboard back to her when she reappeared. 

"You know, I'm a little surprised it's you dropping him off today instead of Bradley. I mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw." She looked so smug you wanted to scream and smear her perfect makeup. 

But you stood there and calmly said, "We've already been over this. I'll be dropping Noah off and picking him up as well now. Indefinitely."

"Okay," she replied, barely paying any attention to you as she opened up a light blue pastry box identical to the one in your kitchen. "You keep telling yourself that."

You swallowed hard and looked between her face and the box one more time before you turned on your heel and rushed back out to your car.

--------------------------

What's up, Daddy? And why? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 40

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[littleroaes]

To any lovers left alive ( 恋人たち ‘The Lovers’ ), l.jy

inspired by weathering with you ( 2019 )

a failed love goddess saves herself by fleeing to earth and an ordinary hopeless romantic boy ( with his self claimed younger brother ), together they start a fail-proof service that can make the love of your life fall for you too. as he teaches her human relationships, they eventually come to adore each other too. though, as the universe's not in their favor, only left is to hope.

PAIRING lee juyeon x fem!reader, high schooler!eric

GENRE FLUFF, pretty angsty, slight fantasy, little smut ( MDI 18+ ), greek mythology!au ( eros & psyche ), hanahaki disease!au ( no one dies <;3 ), teaching love!au, forbidden rules aren’t in their favor love , little crime!au, amnesia!au, they run a love service, it rains a lot, human!juyeon, eros!reader, strangers to friends to ( nearly ) lovers, mutual pining ( but juyeon does it harder ), cute flirty needy juyeon, hopeless romantic and lovesick!juyeon, y/n likes to tease juyeon, adopted little brother!eric, high schooler!eric, makoto shinkai type of love like your name ( 2015 ), weathering with you ( 2019 )

WARNINGS call reader angel once, say fuck about 5 times, knife used as a metaphor of anger ( once ), juyeon finds and fires a gun, petty crime, ANGST — > bittersweet ending, fictional disease ( not conventionally used! ), amnesia, descriptions of coughing and breathlessness, mentions of violence ( physical ), SMUT — > kissing, making out, oral ( f receiving ), palming, dry humping, soft begging, p in v, unprotected ( don’t try at home ), juyeon’s touched starved af, both are kind of switch, very fluffy smut

WORD COUNT 33.6 k

PLAYLIST

a/n : this is one of my favorite pieces ive written so I hope you like it! don’t try to translate the japanese on the banner😭, it’s literally just bs to make the banner look like the movie posters😭 I don’t usually write smut, but I thought it added to the story. but don’t worry! it’s very soft and not hardcore at all ( very fluffy ). it’s a bit angstier than my other works, not by much, it’s predominantly fluff. it’s very melancholic!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

"A RECENT SPIKE IN NEW USERS FOR DATING APPS HAS CAUSED DEVELOPERS TO BE ASTOUNDED.

At the same time, hashtags like love is dead are trending number one on social media platforms like Twitter. Young people all over the internet are sharing their recent heartbreak, leaving us to question the mega romance struggle of the youth generation.”

When the glass door to the inner room falls close behind her, the voice from the TV in the left upper corner becomes merely a vague presence in the night. It ceases between the synthetic material of her raincoat in the harsh weather as she stands on the deck, a meter from the center. A wind from far away collides with the fragment of her face beneath the hood. How the rain, cold, impacts her skin before they descend down the curvature. 

But between the loose strands in nonexistent patterns before her eyes, shines the city in total divine. Each lightsource, limited in a single square, stacked on top of the other, reflects in the water as they approach port. 

The boat collides with the stone lining surrounding the city port. It echoes over the raging sea and Y/n forces her hands deeper down the fabric of her pockets. While the people in neon green vests let the metal reach over to land, the dock, she for a single second stood alone on, is slowly filling over with people from indoors. 

The vague heat across the passengers clothes as they pass her by. She stands still to let them cross the arch above water without reflection. Y/n walks out the metal bridge with the last five passengers. When her body reaches fast land, she hears resonant voices from the workers behind, together with the metal being thrown up against the dock. 

At the very edge of the city, she looks up towards the highest lights, where the towering buildings fade into the rain clouds. To then look down, where the crowd of passengers enters between litten up corners. The backpack on her shoulders feels immensely light as she looks at the nearest street where signs emit neon blue and starlight yellow. 

But as the celestial behind the clouded sphere continues to move when she stands underneath it, Y/n forces the straps higher and walks between the entrance of neon delight. 

The storm from the first day she laid her eyes on the city, still lingers over the high buildings. Though, the heavy rain that plummets against the architectural dimensions, can’t reach her in between all these walls. In a hostel room, cramped between six–five enclosures, until the very outer edge of the building meets weather, she sits cramped up against the computer desk. 

Teared tour guides of the metropolitan city, stacked on top of each other, and the white screen in complete view of her vision, showcases link after link of potential jobs. Every blue sentence turns purple as she passes down the page. But each leads to a paragraph with a solid brick wall. From the first word down to the next five, Y/n doesn’t have to read more to realize she isn’t qualified. 

At last, at the tail end of the first page, she finds an application for a job at a hostess bar. Three clicks among the main streets on google maps, she finds the neon sign in an alley. Half of its radiance, covered by alternate indorses. The street view won’t let her in to see the entrance, compressed between shadows. 

Y/n falls back into the chair. The rectangular screen ventures from sight field as her mind receives the blue illuminated walls and brown wood of the desk. One can barely see the floor in this precarious space, therefore, she leans further back, embraces her legs and watches the ceiling. The walls impend on her figure, but somehow she feels guarded. Between all layers, she stays hidden from the eyes of the storm or silhouettes remote from street lights. 

The complete silence of this space, bane in a second, being her stomach. A kind of sound that only comes by hunger, and a sort that pains at the very inside of the body. Y/n looks down from the walls, lets one arm off her legs and gently wraps it around her stomach. 

Her eyes wander the table. Between the small titles of books, keyboard and paper scribbles, lies three bills in vertical order. A single shadow beneath the gaping parts where paper bends, causes of the light from the screen. Y/n stares at it as if it will change. But the only thing in motion is the light from the computer, when she hasn’t moved the cursor and the white fades to a darker shade. 

Her shift will be tomorrow night, and the money beside the computer will be needed for the morning, in the badly lit register, where a man sits behind a scratched plastic veil. The same sound from before lingers between the room and Y/n gently stands up. The chair creaks as she pushes it under the table and turns against the artificial light, to get the plastic raincoat, dripping of water from the weather thundering outside. 

“I apologize, I’m-” 

“Out! You’re fired!” 

The last words leaving her mouth echoes over the blue-red litten street. As his face is only a centimeters from the back door, she takes the handle and forces it close. The sharp edge of the black metal tears the space in between them. His eyelids fall shut, chin down towards his chest as his right foot trips over the elevation in asphalt. In the limited back door space, where he stands secluded from rain, are two plastic bins. His feet touch the ground where water has endured along concrete and created a static puddle. The opposite loses grip and his shoulder lands on the brown bin, at the edge of the cubicle.

How in an instant, the fall of rain against concrete existed only auditorily, but to now soak his white shirt. The brown bin, together with his own silhouette, falls down the asphalt, creating waves in the thin build up of water. All its insides are dispersed across the alley, beside his knee, to the cigarette ashtray down the other wall. 

He lets hands coat himself in midnight rain as he forces to stand. Assemble the pieces in neon light as he desperately wonders where to take himself next. Wherever his thoughts seem to take him, his mind always runs back to his brother. 

When the bin stands upright, at the place it first belonged, he sees a brown paper bag below it. Sealed in tape across the opening. To reach down and see dark spots form, where his fingers touch the paper. His eyes curiously brightened by the red neon sign above. The paper bag, tightly shut, seamlessly goes into his pocket. Even as he comes out the back alley of restaurants and out the high end street where people without faces covered in raincoats brush against him, he thinks about the slight weight change in his right pocket. 

-

At the glass door into a fast food chain where a doorstep separates the water and white clear floor, he steps in. When it locks to the frame, the weather becomes simply a vague background shatter against the windows. Instead, static rhythms come from the TV in the higher corner. 

He finally takes a seat. Black tray decorated in a thin piece of paper with his order placed on top. The grease of the burger seeps through the wrapping. As he sits on the extended piece of table up against the window, he sees fragments of a color spectrum in the dark as people pass him by. He takes off his marine blue raincoat, water courses through the folds and down the hem, before it assembles and falls to the floor. To let it continue pour beneath the chair as he places it on the back rest. He sits down again, sees his reflection in the window. Though supposed to be a transparent barrier to another scene, in the dark, even windows become mirrors. He sees a vague outline of his metal plate on his uniform. “Juyeon”, outlined in two languages fully black. Before opening his meal, he unclips the brooch and lays it beside the tray. 

While half way through his burger, the paper bag in the right pocket off his raincoat crosses his mind. Still with the burger in one of his hands, the other reaches to the end of his raincoat, where the hem line dances upon the floor. It whispers of paper and he has it only a centimeter or two below the table. Juyeon’s chin leans forward and the strands of his fringe fall with it. 

He turns it upside down and inspect the crinkled sides. Finally lets his food down the tray to use both hands to gently loosen the tape from the fibers. The fold at the very top of the brown bag opens and Juyeon cautiously reaches his finger in between. 

He can’t completely ascertain why he took it. Maybe because there’s no firm reasoning to argue, since it was only pure curiosity. One doesn’t throw a sealed package in the bin, he thinks. 

Strands of his fringe seem to fall faster when his eyes reach for the black complexion hiding beneath the paper. The skin of his fingers feels cold hard material, and when his hand returns, revealing half of the object in matt black, his eyes go from curious to wide of racing heart. 

He only sees the object for a second, but nonetheless, Juyeon brings it to his stomach and leans over the table. The bag is in full shadow beneath his body and eyes coated in a thin layer of horrid adrenaline, watching the surrounding tables. When the weighting pressure against his chest has started to loosen and the avid line of light in his eyes has run out, Juyeon leans up a little. Let the radiance from the spotlight ceiling find its way in and make sense of the object again. 

As he sat and wished it was a dream, beneath him, in his own lap, lies a gun. Sharp lines of its corners contrast violently against the color palette of the restaurant. Juyeon takes his hand down towards it, feels the weight. Sounds of dark pitch when tapping his nail against it. There is no frame in his mind whether the object in his lap is a real gun. Closest being a toy gun from the local kids shop in younger days. It could not be real, he thinks, as it turns to the other hand. 

Either way, when Juyeon once again looks up, the scenery is as serene as the first time. At the highest corner above the toilets is a screen. TV that, instead of music distracts from the overbearing silence of a strange place, plays the news. The woman in the suit talks about the spike in dating apps. With the first mention of romance, Juyeon looks away. Cage the voice, to simply return to background noise, without a purpose of being understood. 

For the last time his eyes recoil to the gun. Juyeon takes up the paper bag again, folding it gently around the gun before reaching to his jean pocket. If it’s real, he needs to keep it hidden and preferably leave it inside another dark alley along the city streets. And if it is just simply plastic, it bears no consequences. 

Where paint starts to fade, cloth seen behind the window and electric cables rather than leaves. Y/n stands on her toes to inspect the details of glass into private lives. An apartment complex compressed between five others, stairs where the rain varies in flow, down each step to the closest drain and three windows in lack of light. 

In contrast to the constant pedestrian crossings further away, places like these may hold people with forgetful minds about their doors, or just the framework itself that is supposed to protect them, won’t. 

At the third floor of the complex in gray shade, is a dark window with broken lining placed a meter from the stairway. Y/n has gone into the alleyways where lush plants of the forever rain covers any spots where street lamps would shine between the high buildings. It's cramped, shoulders brush between edges of green plantation and feet nearly trip over pots. There are metal fences in blue pigment that creak every time she opens or closes them. But at last, she stands at the end of the stairs, beside a plant, suffocated in water. 

To reach out the window with red hands as an effect of cold, onto the ice metal lining. It hurts in those fingers but nonetheless, Y/n continues to pull on loose pieces and hit the frame. As another wind rises, a star dies and one room in the neighborhood darkens. The square design loosens from the complex and creaks amidst the rain shatter. 

It’s simple to take one step onto the sill and force one’s body up the elevation, to then fall to the opposite floor. Though, as Y/n then stands up to observe the secret world of someone else’s, she feels just a little guilty as eyes return to the floor. How her shoes holding rain frees it, and causes thin puddles to collect beneath. Y/n turn her head, two beds beside her, and way in, a kitchen. She walks up to the counter where a few plates are stacked and the window above the sink opens for light over the otherwise shadowed details.

Immediately, there’s a neatly organized box of ramen packages close to the sink. Placed in color order, Y/n’s hand, just a little hesitant to actually reach out and ruin it. Three red’s that she gently puts in her raincoat, because it was most of that color. Now her eyes adverts from the counter up to the shelves. Hidden furthest where the sharp lines and walls cut off any highlights, she sees a plastic bag. Y/n stands on her toes to force her hand in, it echoes of plastic throughout the apartment. When reading the label, it’s melon bread. 

A sudden sound goes through the walls, a click from the hallway behind her. Y/n looks over her shoulder to see a streak of yellow light, painting the floor before it disappears when the door closes once again. Fabrics and keys, chaotic in that part of the complexion and Y/n stares at the wall before the new presence. All thoughts that race through her mind, become none when they all collide into each other. A fragment of an idea does make itself out of the blur. But there is no use in hiding beneath the sink or running towards the window, because when her eyes drift for an escape, the person reveals himself and stares eye to eye with her. 

As if body, absent like two curtains drifting apart, her soul left before him. She hasn’t realized the anonymity in the real world until the eyes of someone else, truly authenticate her existence. How much of humanity is just to fill up old space and pass each other in it. 

As neither of them say anything, a second silhouette appears from the hall. 

“What’s wrong-” He, a distance in height from the former and in navy school uniform with a backpack, halts his words when closing in on the taller, and then follows the line of stare to her figure. The taller’s eyes turn sharp in casted light from outside. He takes a step back to the one in school uniform, so his body hides from her sight, aside from the glimpse of hair and eyes above the shoulder. 

“Who are you?” 

Y/n lift her hands up to head length, the plastic of red vibrant packages crinkles with it, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She purses her lips in, tears her eyes away from theirs as she watches the city framed in the window. To let her hands down again, Y/n stacks the three red packages on top of each other and the bread neatly beside. 

“I’ll leave.” Her shoes stain the floor and cold air forge divides them as she passes down the hallway. The one protected by a taller shoulder, watches her take the door handle and turns when he feels the presence of the one before him alter. 

“You didn’t take anything else?” The taller one asks while looking at her. The line of his shoulders aren’t as tense, the shine in his eyes from the awake city at night, reflects like a single star rather than the red light at the tops of soaring buildings. Y/n holds her hand still on the metal, shakes her head. Soon after, he frees his back from the shorter, continuing up the counter. Eyes of the one in uniform follows him and lingers in the direction plastic can be heard. Then, in a slightly faster haste than daily walk, he comes up to her with the three ramen and bread. 

Her eyes remain in wonder over his two hands with mere distance to her own. And as another second passes, she sees a fruit bar of sorts on top of the ramen. Y/n takes her eyes off the food in an uncertain manner, towards the window. The student who still glances in her direction, stays at that line of floor. 

The plastic sounds again as he motions it towards her. His fringe follows that action, “You needed the food.” He says gently and this time, fully extends his arms to let the vibrant material fold gently against her stomach. 

Y/n finally lets her hands around it, rain on her coat, now spreading across the synthetic. The shoes on her, find themselves in an awkward position and vision wanders between two points. Therefore, the boy gently nods and purses his lips in. 

Her hand finally weighs down on the handle and a light, much stronger than the moon, opens from that point. It casts itself over him and the one further into the apartment. She for the first time realizes the complexity in human features as the highlights contrast with its shadows.

“Thank you…I’m sorry.” Y/n says quietly before closing the door. 

There’s an empty seat to his right at the back of the bus. Sunshine behind the cloud layers has passed, and during evening, the rain remains, and shatters against the windows with an ever changing view. Juyeon watches each droplet race across the glass before it implodes against the edge. The sequence as if taken out of a memory, he stares for a bit longer. 

A monotone voice lingers along the bus as it comes to a stop. The rain enhances when the doors separate. A woman in the middle of the bus walks out and at the front steps a boy in. By only a faint glimpse of his profile, even in between the masses of crowds, Juyeon would make out the features and smile as he does now. Eric waves goodbye to two girls standing beneath the door before turning his head, locking eyes with Juyeon at the very back. 

Eric takes the right seat next to the older. Let the backpack off his shoulders and lie it in his lap. Juyeon observes each action and synthetic fold of the material til the door closes and the cityscape moves forward. The younger one suddenly looks up at Juyeon who still smiles, so much that his eyes start to crease. 

“Player.” Juyeon pats his shoulder against Eric’s. Meanwhile the one in sudden accusation takes up the umbrella, where it has compiled a small puddle. It spills rain on their pants as he waves it towards Juyeon, and he lets out a laugh and covers his face behind his hands. Before Eric has gotten the entire backseat rain covered, Juyeon takes his wrists and forces it down. 

“I’m not.” Eric switches to a more comfortable position, “You’re just hopeless.” 

Juyeon scoffs, “I’m not.” 

Eric does the same, leaning his body over Juyeon’s, and hand, reaching for his pocket. Eric is back in his own seat before Juyeon’s expression converts. While Juyeon furrows his eyebrows and asks him what he’s doing, Eric has his lockscreen on perfect display, HD in all dimensions, perfectly framed in the rectangular screen. The younger one turns the phone up against his nose. 

Juyeon would scold him, but his lips fall shut as the smile from dreams enters his sight once again. The picture is from a day in which the weather was warmer and the sun stood in complete limelight, cloud curtains out of view. A month has gone by, but somehow it feels as if glimpsing into a past life as he makes eye contact with the captured past. 

Juyeon takes the phone back, holds it in two hands. Eric sits quietly to observe Juyeon, and quickly sighs when the older doesn’t turn off the screen. Juyeon looks up, visible pout on his lips and fallen eyes, he consciously holds the phone while Eric falls back in his seat. 

“You still have her as your lockscreen?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Eric sighs again, “Hopeless.” He widens his eyes, “Hopeless!”

Juyeon too leans back, letting the younger’s words drown him like the downpour. The screen close to his face again. Somehow, the longer he stares at it, he feels as if she will stand there again before him, like the spring they first met. But each night he longingly waits, but rain season never ends. 

-

At the last stop, where there’s only vague lights and dark roads. They walk under their own umbrellas. The shatter over the bus seems to haunt them wherever they go. From where cars and buses flashes beside each scenery, building walls close in on them. Each meter reaches beyond the next alley, how it feels as if the edge of the umbrella will make marks in the walls. 

It is quiet between them, Juyeon looks at Eric and observes the delicate details over his face. He smiles where the umbrella covers it. Some days, on the same street, Eric’s voice can echo past the last wall and reach further out to the sides where the signs extend. And other days, his imaginative world stays where it was born. Juyeon guesses it must have been a tiring day. 

An abrupt sound from a left alley draws a crack in the ambiance evening. Eyes of the two turn towards that vague litten path. Their sneakers cease to form circular patterns in puddles as their vision tries to reach in between the signs. At last, they finally see the figure of a girl moving backwards, away from someone on the other side as her hands extend against the wall. A shout echoes again and a man comes from the opposite side, charges against her and she pulls herself even higher up the wall. 

The two of them stand like nature in mid winter, frozen and left to watch the world. Eric’s eyes become wider when the man pulls off her raincoat hood, tauntingly gestures his hand to her face and takes a grip on her hair. The frown on Juyeon’s face reads. Though, none of them steps another foot into the alley. 

“Juy-” Eric whispers but his voice disappears when Juyeon walks forward. Each step on the stones becomes slower as he falls in line with the center. 

There’s a second presence underneath nightlife entrance. He catches sight of Juyeon first, shine of fine metal as he sharpens his eyes. Juyeon’s dispute in cautious surveillance as the man and girl shift towards him. As they lock eyes, Juyeon recognizes her features. It’s of manmade light, though, familiar as ever. 

“What do you want?” The one with turned back asks. 

Juyeon deliberately closes his hands around the umbrella, “Please, let go of her.”

The man scoffs, “It’s none of your business, Boy.” 

“I’m telling you to take a step away from her.” 

“As I said,” The man takes his hands off the wall, reiterating those words as he comes closer.

“It’s none of your business!”

The man forces his heavy arms on Juyeon’s shoulders. Lean his weight onto his palm until Juyeon falls backwards. His left foot comes behind the other, and his hand nearly loses the umbrella. Before he comes upon the asphalt, a hand on his collar obliges the rain to violently graze his face. 

At the same time, the girl walks off the wall. Contempt she takes her hand out to grip the man’s blazer. Though, before her fingers touch the black fabric, the second man comes behind her. The weight of his arm comes over her shoulders, coercing her knees to fall.

Juyeon, through the cruel grip in high angle, sees her struggle. He verges on violence, taking the loose end of his blazer and pulls him closer. But when the man loses balance, both his hands come over his shoulder. Weighed down on opposite sides, causing Juyeon to groan. Over him, he constraints Juyeon, forcing ground to pierce his back.

How the cold rain seeps through the clothing, soaks his skin until red and itches. As he tries to force his legs up, the man pushes his weight onto him harder, hands against his throat. Barely breathing, it’s enough to convert rain to stars, being buried six feet under. Each tear from the sky falls in his eyes and Juyeon irregularly closes them so as to make eye contact with the one above. 

“What will you do about it, Boy?” He taunts. 

Shirt scratches against the ground once more, a raindrop falls onto a middle point of his eyes. Juyeon trails his right hand onto the asphalt. Each sharp edge of the black stone seizes his skin and draws white patterns. He reaches for his pocket, desperately lifts on his body to make room for just a centimeter as water leaks into his clothing. Before his thighs weighs down his own, Juyeon gets the gun out. Takes his opposite from the ground, has the two of them on the trigger. With fully extended arms, he directs it towards his face, the hole as a third eye beneath him. 

He scoffs from above, “Like you will kill me either way?” 

Raincoats folding against each other to the left, as the other man holds Y/n down. His strong complexion covers Eric down the alley and Juyeon secures his eyes on the man. Pressure sores from the grinding teeth as his point finger shakes over the extinguisher. The rain falls down the matt material of the gun and down his skin. He curses the damn gun for being plastic as the man’s aggravation fuels constraint. A last taunt leaves his lips, rage when sunken to hell, crosses his chest as if by a knife, Juyeon pulls the trigger. 

Juyeon closes his eyes the moment the trigger transcend the boundary, and an ear piercing sound shocks between the high walls. Loss of vision, it feels as if the entire platform adheres to that wave. Once he opens his eyes, the shockwave has consumed all provoke. To trail the dust, it ascended and broke a street lamp, devastating the lucent. 

He distances himself, wide eyed, etched in terror, Juyeon lies still, seeing his pretense have grown ugly from the sudden shatter as the man takes two steps back. Juyeon finally sits up, rests his hand against the asphalt while still in condemnation. He tears it in a second to turn left. The girl holds the same posture as the two others, he realizes there’s no hands on her shoulders. Juyeon forces himself up, grabs her arm and collides shoulders with the man. He sees Eric standing at the same position as he left him and breathes til it hurts.  

“Run!” Juyeon shouts. 

-

He sees those windows he walks by everyday, and Eric accelerates his feet to fall in line with Juyeon. The younger takes him by the upper arm jacket and forces him to stop. 

“Where the fuck you get the gun?” Eric spits. 

Juyeon tears his arm away and looks at the streetlights in row. No stranger is present under the yellow light, so Juyeon looks back towards Eric and forces the gun lower in his pocket. 

“I found it in a paper bag, I didn’t know it was real.” He sighs, “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, okay?”

Eric doesn’t argue further, instead takes a step back from the circle of light surrounding them. Eric stands with his back against him, head advancing in parallel to the ground as his wet shoes touch the dead grass in between the wall and asphalt. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Juyeon turns around, a thin layer of startle lies over the pupil and his chest still falls heavily from lack of air. He blinks a few times as the girl’s shoulders fall with her chin. Only a finite part of her features is visible in streetlight and the two boys wait for her in silence as she turns in her place and watches the obscure details of the wall. 

“I needed that job.” She says finally and looks up. The rain at her scalp runs down each strand until it forms a droplet at the edge. Until it lands on the skin beneath her eye.

Juyeon watches her cold written figure in fabricated light with mouth slightly agape, as if wanting to say something but no words are to use. The older feels a sudden push against his upper arm. To slip one dimension out of trance, he looks down where the wall becomes background and Eric waits impatiently. Eric’s left side leans continually towards her direction in haste, as his eyes widens. Juyeon stares at the action for a second, until returning, with the same expression as before but with a burden from the shorter. 

“I’m sorry…” Juyeon starts. She too face him, chin still a centimeter down and pupils drained of rain, or maybe worry. 

“...I thought you were in danger.” He focuses on the point where the worn down wall meets the asphalt and green complexion grows amidst. How his cold hand runs up to his neck where even his hair hasn’t been saved from downpour. There’s a sort of diversion in the way he looks down, seeming to stare at a point far away. As if it were a clear night sky with four constellations, he speaks again. 

“I shouldn't have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

Eric gives no part in sound, but still, nods his head gently. The girl at the other side of the faint circle, illuminated by the lamp, presses a faint smile. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

Juyeon looks up fully and as if another star convulsed, their expression shifts and her features are now in full view. How the moon in her veil has finally revealed the hidden side and the girl smiles fully. She shakes her head to make room for the skin concealed in strands. A filter in blue green light, enchanted by city night, conceal the space they stand in and she feels two leaves opening up its sides to reveal itself. 

“I’m Y/n.” she takes out her hand, cold as the other two’s. 

“I’m Juyeon.” He shakes her hand, “This is Eric.” And motions it to the younger. 

“Hello.” Eric says with a pressed smile. 

Y/n tilts her head, a visible change in angle as she looks at Juyeon then Eric. 

“Are you brothers or?” 

“Yes.” Eric says. Juyeon laughs awkwardly. 

“Not biologically, Eric’s my adopted brother and my mother passed away recently.” 

“Oh, sorry for your mother.” 

Juyeon shakes his head gently, “She had been sick for sometime, we take care of each other well, right Eric?” He touches his shoulder with his elbow which causes Eric to look up. 

“Mm!” He nods. 

Eric is eventually the one to ask Y/n to come in with them as the rain starts once again. Her raincoat is as wet as theirs and during the interval of their conversation, even puddles form beneath their coats. Y/n is the last one left in the bathroom. She stands with her hair above the tub, draining remaining water from her hair. Juyeon edges on the doorframe to the bathroom, looks at her with vast eyes before walking to his bed. He lends her a muted green set of clothing that he can’t remember from where. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” 

Y/n shakes her head in the bedroom. 

“I took the boat here.” 

“Where do you come from?” Juyeon asks, seated at the edge of the bed. His hands gathered at the front of his lap. Y/n looks down her own, takes the hem between two fingers before speaking. 

Her tone is gentle, birds sing in the arch of her, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.” 

"Why?" You can tell us.” He tilts his head. 

She wonder over the ceiling. Underneath this roof, it feels as if none can hurt her, “I’m not human.” 

Juyeon’s quiet, smiles cautiously to mirror her, “I-” 

His first thought is to reach out his hand and tell her she’s obviously wrong, but, there’s a certain rudeness in telling a mere stranger they have an incorrect idea about themselves. 

Y/n laughs, “Do you believe in gods, Juyeon and Eric?” She looks at the two beds. 

“No.” Eric answers immediately. 

“Then, I have to break it to you.” She looks at Eric, “I am the love Goddess.” 

“Yeah, and I’m a Unicorn.” Eric laughs. 

“Eric?!” Juyeon panics, in which Y/n laughs again. 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to believe it.” 

Surrounded in conversations for a bit longer as her coat drips of rain still. The two of them come in on work, when Juyeon asks her. Y/n scratches her head as she tells him it was her only chance at a job. That nearly everything is gone after the city journey. Juyeon bites his lip and shifts weight in the bed as that hidden guilt echoes within.

“Can’t you start a service?” His sudden voice lingers over the hard floor. Y/n has her head in his direction, with eyes casted by the little lamp beside the mattress. Juyeon takes his hand on the edge of the bed and Eric watches from the opposite side how he settles onto his knees, further than a meter distance, but close enough for her to feel the wooden floor trail his motions in the contrasting sereness of Earth

“I mean,” Juyeon takes one hand on the floor and leans onto it.

“Say, you promise to people to put in their name and someone they like, that they’ll fall in love, in exchange you get money?” 

To deflect from the thin bridge created between them, Y/n returns to the hemline. Where the washed out fabric turns sparse, and because of the warm light from, the outline of her legs filters through the fabrication. The spot beside him becomes desolate as he takes his hand back to his own warmth, to rest with the other in the curve of his lap. 

“Maybe…” She answers without looking. 

Juyeon shifts his legs, he falls into a criss-cross position, “I mean, magic is profitable, people seem to like it.” He looks behind himself to point at Eric on the other bed, but stutters as his silhouette has fallen between the blue patterns, only his feet visible at the edge. 

“I-I see high school students with magic stones all the time.” 

Y/n smiles again. To bring her legs up from the floor and embrace them with her arms as she leans into the gap created by colliding knees. 

“It is one of the first rules as a god to not interfere with human life for personal gain.” She pauses, “I probably shouldn’t.” 

It turns silent once again, or, silence aside from the snoring coming from the bed in the corner. Then of course, a city is never fully asleep. He scratches his nape and diverts his vision to the dishwasher in the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I just feel really bad for the job thing.” His back falls towards the floor gently, but despite delicate, he hits it. As it lingers amid the inner four walls and trails to her end, she smiles and laughs. 

“It’s okay,” Y/n nods, “I’ll think about it.” 

“Is it true?” One of the girls, in high ponytail, wrapped in red silk band asks. 

Y/n nods, pushes the pink box one step closer over the table. She takes up the black marker, holds it out to them. With an encouraging motion of her hand and the calm line of her lips. Before the girl at the center touches hands with Cupid, Eric comes forward.

“You can get a free trial.” 

The peaceful features on her face, reminiscent of a spring morning, disappears like it has  run one season back. Her head shifts towards him in a second, eyes wide and begs him as to why he just uttered those words. Eric sees them, but looks away, just as calmly as he said that sentence. 

“Try for free and if it works, tell the others around the school.” He holds out his hand, “Deal?” 

The girl in center alternates intent with the two beside her. The gaze bridging between them must have sent some obsolete signals, Y/n think, cause after, she who has the pen reaches out her hand. Y/n, desperate, tells herself not to tremble when the girl takes a pink note. How the synthetic tip scratches against the dry paper surface, and after a few seconds, the girl lets the note fall into the liminal space seeping light into the box. 

Y/n watches in silence as they disappear out the door and follow their back silhouette as far as the windows down the hall let her. Y/n looks at him once again. Eric lifts his eyebrows as her eyes are intensely edged and while her left cheek seems to pout out a bit further than the right. 

“It’s business.” He says, “After you actually make them fall in love, the whole school will come rushing in here.” 

Y/n tilts her head back. Impatience bound through her veins when she feels as if the sun hasn’t risen another centimeter. Her arms across her chest as she thinks about dirty hostels and forbidden rules.  

Eric sighs and one of the backpack straps falls down his shoulder, “Trust me, rumors spread fast in here.” 

She nods, accepting the fact that the human beside her knows more than she does. 

- 

Only one more student came by that morning. They had allegedly built curiosity when a pink flier at the bottom of the stairs, written in bold letters with about four thousand hearts, crinkled when they opened the main entrance. Y/n was rather skeptical of the poster Eric gifted her. The A4 was the cleanest shade of white she had ever laid her eyes on, either way, when he asked why, she didn’t want to admit it was the rough edges of his lettering. Also, that her own wasn’t worth a duck feather pen in fine ink either. 

Eric said he needed to go to his next class. Y/n had taken a seat down one of the chairs beside a desk. She shifted her head where the sun struck his face, the warm filter over his complexion, reminded her of gold. He told her to lay low, even go to the cafe two buildings away if teachers control the flier pointing at room 233   . 

When she watched his silhouette fade from yellow tones and into shadows of the cold litten building. His back draped in navy fabric disappears behind the same wall as all four other people. As only the ventilation lingers between the dust and even the clock over the door stands frozen in time at 14:17, Y/n sighs and turns her head to the window. Staring worriedly at a point beyond the sky only she can see.

-

How the end of each shoe shatters against the floor as students pass by the windows of each classroom down the corridor. As the teacher neither sits on her own desk or stands before the chalkboard, all fabrics, bags and voices come in clusters, lined up against each corner and wall. 

A voice from the right side of the classroom, beside the window, draws his vision to them. At that corner of the room stands a group of four other boys. Eric waves before walking between the desks down the spot underneath the sunlight. 

“You’re late.” One indicates. 

“I’m always.” Eric laughs and lets the backpack fall off his shoulder. 

“But I saw you on the way here, you were with some girl?” The other in the group starts making noises and hitting his shoulder. Eric instead rolls his eyes. 

“She needed help, she’s my brother’s age either way.” 

The book in his bag comes up in height with Eric’s head, before he swings it against the one beside him. It lands on his chest and the other boys laugh loudly. Though, fades in a second when inpatient footsteps run down the hall and crash though the classroom frame. The entirety of the classroom has turned their heads to the one at the center of the chalkboard. It’s the football captain of the team. His hair stands shiverled, the one collar of his blazer is folded inside. At the same time, while all eyes are on him, he scans the panorama and stops when he sees the group furthest down to the left. 

His eyes light up in a way only described in fairytales. The curve of his lips and the breath of relief that go through them as he runs up to the group. The people surrounding that desk make room for him as he comes closer. On one of the chairs sits the girl who put her name in the pink box. Eric can only see the boy’s back but clearly each and every change in her facial features. It feels as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since he came before the desk. They sparkle reflection of his own and he finally speaks. 

“I walked past a flower shop yesterday, and I saw this, it reminded me of you so I ran and bought it.” He takes up a silk wrapped bouquet that takes up the entirety of his backpack. A gasp goes through the room, and the girl too, lacks air in her lungs as she hesitantly takes the flowers. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. 

“I love you, Lynn.” 

Whispers of excitement fill the four walls and dares to break through the window. Faintly beside him, Eric makes out that the four behind him start whispering too and laughs.He thinks of the paper down the stairwell and Y/n on the floor above. How he has maybe found God, placed in his mundane daily life. 

-

In the tear of afternoon Eric lets his bag levitate over the floor as he waits for the teacher to set the ending breath of her sentence. And the moment she does, Eric takes full step across the sharp edges of each desk and nearly falls over one. Out in the hallway, Eric runs, his figure covers the orange shade seeping through each window as he comes up the stairs, making the poster almost lose touch with frail plastic tape. 

At the second floor, he searches each frame that lets him glimpse through the transparency and into the room behind walls. And at the very end, where he left her before the class, her back stands against the bygone rectangle in sun bleached composition. Y/n turns from the school scenery and looks back at him. It could be the novel perspective he has gained that makes him biased, but he wonders if she knew his presence up the stairs before even this dimension let her hear it. 

Her features are peacefully drawn against her skin, not a single rule of tension as she questions his presence with vast eyes. 

“How did you do it?” Eric walks up closer to her. Y/n smiles and leans further against the window to watch the vague silhouettes and their shadow drawn across the concrete. 

“I told you, I’m not human.” She looks at him.

As voices from the entangled hallways underneath their feet reach their ears, Eric wonders if a change in perception will happen, if he lets the minute visor move one step further. Even Y/n’s expression alters. The younger one leans in a bit closer, his pupils seem to search for a fragment of something else, to make sense of her place in home he thought he knew. Y/n herself tense and with immense eyes, takes up her hands. 

Like a child taking its first step to explore the vast Earth, Eric reaches his finger out to touch her nose, then her cheek. Later the eyelid, force to close and open it which eventually makes Y/n take a step back and blink about three times in span of one. Y/n laughs slightly as Eric still observes her essence without blinking. 

A sharp sound, contrasting to the muted creaks of desks and old walls veiled in delicate old linen. Behind her back, an arrow that balances between the points of two fingers. She looks towards his face, not a single filter thrown over a feature of his astonished expression. Sun reflects onto it as it weighs in her hand, and she closes the space in between them as the arrow comes underneath his chin.

“So you believe me now?” Y/n asks, still smiling. 

How his eyes, comparable with the sun as they delights in curiosity. His fingers reach for the arrow, but hesitantly closes in on his chest before he looks up towards her again. Y/n nods gently and takes her hand closer and his fingers finally feel the thin line of the arrow. He takes it gently in two hands. Doesn’t quite force his fingers around it, as if a touch, merely a frequent stronger would tear it. 

“Yeah!” He breathes out, “Yeah, I do!” 

Y/n opens her mouth to speak once again, but a knock against the frame from the opposite side takes their attention away. Where the sunshine cast itself the clearest, stands another girl and a friend slightly behind. The girl’s hand on the lining, she looks behind her shoulder before back at Y/n. 

“I saw your poster, I heard you can make people fall in love.” The girl takes her shoulder bag to her font and reaches for the pocket. Between folding of materials and crinkles of keys, the girl extends her arm with a bill. 

“We want to try.” 

As the limited day hours come on its last ones in winter, Eric and Y/n look at each other. The younger enthusiastically nods when her eyebrows fall into a state of trouble. Hesitantly, Y/n nods towards him and takes the place behind the desk and slides two pink notes across the surface. 

“Of course!” 

Winter reeks off the flooring and spreads up her skin. She holds her legs tighter against her body as each bill and silver coin touches the cold floor. With the last gray metal circle in place, she extends her back and scans the paper in thousand folds. Y/n bites her lip with her face down towards her lap, and her back still as a first impression when someone comes through the door. 

Thin plastic bindings whisper in the hall. Juyeon takes off his shoes at the door frame, chin directed against Y/n’s back underneath the counter. His fingers don’t find the laces and he takes his eyes off for a second. Eric lies in bed, with his phone and Juyeon sighs quietly before letting the plastic bag up on the square table. 

“Eric, you need to do your homework.” Juyeon tilts his head to get even a vague coloration. 

“I’ll do it soon.” Eric answers. 

To fold down the white synthetic filter, Juyeon looks down at Y/n again. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

Y/n looks up with vast eyes that fall in usual size once again. She presses a smile between her lips and trails the line between the wood. 

“I’m a little worried.” She says, though she quickly breathes again as his hands come off the bag. 

“It’s not a lot though, the hostel is just getting more expensive. The money isn’t quite enough yet.” Y/n turns back to the three bills and two coins. 

“You can stay here.” Eric’s voice comes from the other end. The two of them look at him, now fully extended over the covers. The sheets drape over his shoulders and legs while the blue light from the screen illuminates his face. She returns in direction and sees Juyeon looking at her with the identical vast eyes as her own. Y/n looks away, she realizes Eric’s complexion isn’t as daunting. 

“Can’t she?”

“It’s okay I don’t-” Y/n answers, but Juyeon intervenes.

“No, you can stay.” 

Y/n turns to him fully without words, stares at him as he looks away and scratches his neck. It’s still quiet when he remembers the plastic bag left on the table and starts to empty it. 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. At first thought, she doesn’t want to intrude on the line she already feels like bordering. Contrary, she thinks going around the streets would be ruthless. Juyeon nods and she looks over towards Eric. 

“You too?” 

“Of course, Juyeon’s starting to get on my nerves either way.” He sighs and falls back onto the pillow. The tone itself was nearly bounding on a desire to become three in the house rather than specifically having her settle in. 

“Hey?” Juyeon’s hands tangle themselves in the thin synthetic while he tries to get them out. His head leans dramatically to one side while Eric has let the pillows impose around him again.

“I understand that.” Y/n crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, “Don’t worry, Eric, I’ll keep you entertained.” 

Juyeon holds a sort of offended expression as she laughs and Eric comes up the fabrics again. 

“You’re a high schooler, you just hangout with friends either way.” Juyeon sulks. 

“Doesn’t matter, Y/n’s cooler than you.” 

“How?” He walks over to Eric’s bed, letting his arms hang low as he stands above the younger and his fringe fall upon. 

“She’s literally a god, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.” He moves his hand. 

Eric sees from beneath his figure how it forms a gap between Juyeon’s lip, but quickly disappears. As the older has learnt there is no pride left in fighting with the teenager, Juyeon shifts in direction and with the help of his socks, slide defeated against the floor, back to the plastic bag. 

-

All three of them folded out two lonesome blankets scattered in the apartment. It lay on the carpet in the center of the two bed’s. Y/n sat down on the blankets to touch the pillow, but Juyeon insisted on her sleeping in his bed. It took some persuasion, but he smiles so sincerely and talks tenderly that no God could replicate. She accepted and sat on the bed edge. Eric gave her a worn down pajama set from years ago. 

Juyeon’s eyes follow her figure, walking away as he stands with his hands awkwardly to the sides. 

“The shirt is buttoned wrong.” Her vision from the bedroom, back to the kitchen. He stands still, takes one hand to his neck, scratches it gently before letting it fall down to his own shirt. His fingers draw outlines of details of her own and she looks down to see the overlap in fabric, each button forcing the other side higher. 

“Oh.” Y/n frees the first button from the fabric, but it stays in between her fingertips as there is no place to secure it. Juyeon takes a cautious step forward. Where his feet land it makes no creaks and the fall off a button is the loudest thing in the room. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/n instantly comes to the floor and takes up the missing piece from Eric’s shirt. She looks up to him apologetically with the plastic piece hidden in her palm as she reaches her arm towards him. 

“It’s okay.” He takes the button, then walks over to the kitchen counter. Y/n watches how he opens one of the pantries and takes out a transparent pouch with orange highlights. 

“I’ll help you.” He smiles, identical as the sunset shine in winter. It casts cold over skin where there’s no button to cohere fabric. Y/n nods and they walk to his bed, sit by the edge. Y/n’s closest to the pillow end and watches how he opens the zipper to take up a thin needle and a roll of white thread. Juyeon sees her attentive eyes on his hands between the motions. The white thread comes through the metal end and he cuts it off with scissors. Juyeon holds his hands in between them, hesitantly reaching for the open fabric. He locks eyes with her again. 

“Is it okay that I?” With no more than a timid hand motion, he asks. But Y/n understands. She smiles and straightens her posture, separating the front and hair with her hands. Juyeon smiles awkwardly with his lips pressed against each other and the opposite ends curl upwards. He takes the folded edge of the fabric delicately between two fingers and leans closer to her chest. When the sharp end filters the backside, his hand brushes against her skin. Juyeon holds his eyes on that spot on the shirt, but really, her warm breath drapes his head in summer mist. 

After the button falls in a vertical line with the others, Juyeon lies the needle down. He looks at the two sides of the shirt, shriveled and folded in different heights. Y/n herself, once again looks down her front and follows the line, how the fabric separates from the other side. Halfway through, she buttons again, but Juyeon sees instantly how she’s one level too high. 

“I…” His body still in the same place, to attentively listen to the folds in the sheets as to remind himself not to come closer. Juyeon takes his hands onto the end fabric. He coerces together to seal the shadows casted by moonlight onto her skin, their hands brush against each other. The distance between them is incredibly insignificant, in a way that lets her scent intertwine with his own and he hides his face by looking at the hemline. 

His head right underneath her chin, his hair smells delicate, of morning in blooming spring. The top of his head reflects the moon and his faint breath damp on her skin. 

“And it’s done-” 

A sound in greater volume than anything else in the apartment erupts from the other side. Y/n stands up as Eric comes out from the bathroom, his silhouette darker from the warm light coming behind him. Juyeon’s hand diverts back to his own sides. His head slightly tilted up to continue to watch her face and make out the expression above. 

Eric walks through the frame, it creaks slightly as he falls down the covers. Y/n looks again where Juyeon observes her with eyes, reminiscent of the cityscape playing outside. It shines across and paints the brown pupil in a cold color. She smiles slightly and takes another step. 

“Thank you.” She says gently. 

-

When shoes scratch against the hallmat and two voices he has recorded in a secluded part of his brain intertwines, Juyeon leans forward on toes to let a glimpse of their figures reach from the thin wall. He takes a step before the dividing part of the rooms and stares in silence over the rain consumed. Their hair lies slick against their heads and the thin surface of a droplet holds itself like tears underneath their eyes. Soon gathers a darker blemish by the hemline. 

Juyeon immediately runs up to them and feels the water spread from the floor up to his socks. To let his hands immerse in cold rain across the coat arms as he forces them to the bathroom. Though, Y/n insists to wait until Eric’s done as the four walls impend onto them as they stand all three before the bathtub with the sink piercing against their backs. 

Eric sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, starts violently shake his hair to let off the residing water running down his head. The two others shouts, arms covering their faces to ensure any warmth left on their skins in the bathroom. Y/n let her vision through the passage created by the coat arms when Eric’s laugh parallel between the high ceiling. She feels his arms collide onto her own as he points at Juyeon. The water divided into pairs runs down his forehead, to after his lips. Fringe has fallen flat onto his eyes as the water weighs heavy and all collects at the neck of his shirt as a dark stain. Y/n too, starts to smile before falling into laughter together with Eric. Juyeon stands as if anchored to the bathroom mat pressing his lips in. 

As some minutes in the room pass, they stand three in row with the last person out the hall. Y/n on the floor at the borderline where the bathroom goes to hall, she sits crisscrossed while Eric stands on knees behind her. The coarse fabric of the towel onto her head as Eric treats it like laundry. And at the top of the three stories stands Juyeon, still drenched, more than the others maybe, drying off the excess in Eric’s hair. 

All has dried and the used towels together with the raincoats decorate the bathtub wall. Eric walks to the kitchen as Juyeon tells him there’s soup and Y/n even out the flooded ends of the clothing. Turn around to face the mirror and walk out the door, she stands with her feet in touch with Juyeon’s and the separation between their faces, so trivial that one might condense in another's arm. 

At once, when her essence affects his own, he takes a step back and lifts his arms. There is no distance left and in an instant the cold sink hits his back and Juyeon lets out an ache. Y/n laughs silently and Juyeon turns from the floor up to her face that reeks of lucent perfection. 

“You look like a wet cat.” She laughs gently before reaching down the tub wall. Beside her calf rests an additional towel which she takes and casts over Juyeon’s head. 

Like the fringe of his, it ends just above his eyes and the pupils, infinite golden, look through the opening onto her. Juyeon slightly bends his head down and takes his shoulder closer to his own essence. He tries to hold his eyes open, onto her face that is so close for the first time in his life, but as she follows the wet trails, he closes his eyelids and convulses when she touches his skin down the neck. His head falls back and he whines slightly in which Y/n laughs. 

“Stop being sensitive, Juyeon.” She teases and her arms come above his shoulder and around his head to reach the hair furthest down. Her upper body closes in on his and where the cold water has fallen and fabrics cling onto his skin, he feels warmth. 

“Sorry…” Juyeon says weakly. The spotlights in the ceiling highlight the fragments of rose red around his cheeks. Her existence is so close to his own that he thinks they might merge. Somehow, he curiously opens his eyes to see her still damp hair, reminiscent of early spring. But has to close his eyes over and over. 

Three days outside the window have been in constant motion and the three of them are still in that apartment. Though, for each day Y/n has walked with Eric to school, more students turn attention in the early morning as she walks up the stairs to the second floor. As the pink notes come down to the table surface faster and faster, she has this sensation in her stomach. It grows during silence and when Eric’s at class. It turns into vague whispers and overpowers the ventilation in the right upper corner. It has her out the window and searching for the sun, but at the same time, there’s something so fascinating in watching how the students hold onto their friends as they disappear down the stairs. 

How lovely it is to come in so close contact with love, she thinks. Each sight has her desperately wishing for another and when she hits the arrows bow in two hearts, she runs to the other side to stand at the window front and watch how the world stops for only a second as they make eye contact for the first time. 

Though, as Eric told her. Whispers between the hallways and notes passed between seats. A single motion that sets the butterfly wings in action, spreads winds around the school and she thinks there is only a lone push before someone other than a student comes up the stairs and sees her. 

Y/n sits on the carpet in their apartment during friday afternoon. The warm lamp spreads its familiar light. She counts her bills and coins, and surely has started to build a small tower that goes beyond two centimeters over the flooring. Her palms lean to each side and impend above the paper and silver.  She coerces it all to a pile where the bended edges are in opposite directions. As all the flat slides lie together in her hand and she takes the paper bag, she feels a weight on her own shoulder. A warmth only created by another existence in this season. 

Y/n takes her sight up, onto the only enhanced in the lingering exhaustion of another turn around the world’s axis. At first impression of the scene beside her, she can only see his legs, like delicate lace in the orange light, but as chin touches his silk hair and the scent touches her face. Y/n sees the facial features from upon, the bridge of his nose in between the hair strands. 

Juyeon suddenly perk up. To meet eyes from different directions and see the faint shine in the inner corner from opposite perspectives. Y/n doesn’t speak, but her eyes search his own deeply and when nothing in them seems to gift her question, they follow the shadowed lines down his face to his lips. 

“I feel cold, Y/n.” The weight of his head becomes heavier. 

“I’m not that warm either.” She says gently, still with her hands on the pile. 

Whispers of the apartment and breathing from the alive city, details around them become louder. He finally sighs.

“I don’t know what to do…” His voice mirrors the weak body across her side. Juyeon’s eyes follow the dim corners where lamps can’t reach. Behind the table, against the paper thin wall to divide the bedroom, there is no outline of floor patterns or discolorations. The world sort of fades into that corner. Like the rest of the universe on a certain crossing, falls out of our sight.

Onto his empty chest where he thought nothing could ever reach again, a light pressure of palms to fingers, graze by the shirt before the whole palm encapsulates his sole heart. Juyeon slowly lets his eyes off the horizon at the end of the room and leans his head where her shoulder and neck ends. He watches how she scours his chest from above and feels her hand blur into the chest. 

“Heartbreak.” She hums softly and lets her hand cease over his heart. 

Juyeon still looks up, “You can feel it?” 

Y/n nods and turns to his eyes. The paper between her left hand, she lets them down onto the floor and pushes the rest of them to the side. Her free hand takes his head delicately and his weight off her shoulder. Juyeon complies with her tenderness until his head settle between her lap. His heart, moon touched, and slowly her fingers come in between his hair and in gentle motions brushes. 

To carefully not let his entire body weight on her physical bindings. Though, with that thought he still closes his eyes and feels the hemline of her midnight shirt brush against his cheek. The lids over his eyes open once again and he, in a careful state of trance, watches the slight knit between her eyebrows. His eyes, immense and illuminated, picks apart the features and tilts his head slightly, making the shirt come up her thigh. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks suddenly. Y/n locks eyes with him. Strands fall like rosen vines beside his head. 

Y/n turns back to his chest and stares in wonder over that spot underneath her hand. 

“It’s still very painful…it’s recent?” 

Juyeon lets the night echo along for a moment longer. Her hand in touch with the temperate fabric of his shirt, reaching for the deepest part of his own existence. It stays to be the most audible thing in the room. But somehow, there’s imminent, much greater weight bound between the ceiling and floor. He takes his eyes off her hand and falls back into the crater which her legs create. 

“It was a month ago.” He speaks in a same volume as the detailed city spreading from all directions and encompasses them. 

“She broke up with me, we had a lot of arguments. But we finally stood outside this apartment, and she told me that I don’t make her happy anymore.” Juyeon breathes in, “That there's no love left to give, its run dried.” His head falls to its side and her calf brushes against his cheek. 

How even the pictures from June, where the stone plates hidden in shadow wished to feel like winter as they ran past the piercing sunlight between the green leaves, aches his heart. All the Earth layers pass through him until he ends up at the very last. 

“Your heart hurts a lot, Juyeon.” She watches with knitted eyebrows, the invincible piercing feeling beneath her hand, spreads across her palm. She turns her eyes to him. The tension binding her features disappears slowly, cause; of his delicate expression, painted in care. Another passage of silence.

She whispers and tilts her head, “But you’ll be fine.” 

“I will?” He says with a low voice and immense eyes. 

Y/n closes her eyelids and opens them up again to take apart the faint layer of shine before the pupil. To lean in closer as to see the reflection grow clearer in the curvature.

“I can’t see why?” She tilts her head again before falling back into place, “But in the near future, your heart will heal.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?” 

Y/n nods and suddenly smiles. How the cold sensation of his sick heart falls into fragments when her fingers run through his strands. 

“I’m the love Goddess afterall.” 

The past days, the sun has done a heavy weather rotation around Earth in a perfect instant. Though, somewhere between night and day, the three of them realize it's time to evolve their business. Each dust accumulated over years in waiting has permanently varnished her clothes. The constant sequence of students that runs up the stairwell makes whispers in the hallways, rumors about the ‘woman in the abandoned classroom’ makes it out on student social media.

 Any moment, a post on one of the internet cafes will rise to the top, Eric told her one evening. Y/n uncomfortably took the sheets higher up her shoulders then, but he told her one could fear the inevitable curiosity towards her, or profit off it. His idea was to force the service out of the dusty school and that all three stand on a meeting point beside the city river. Eric sat beside her in the bed and threw off the covers to stand up. She watched how he took the loose pieces of his nightshirt and elongated them like what she assumed was wings. 

“And we’ll have costumes like real sellers do.” He said. 

“Will that really work?” She asked him with a skeptical expression, in which Eric jumped back into the bed. 

“Promise, back in first year of high school, we needed to sell cookies. My friend had a cookie monster costume on for two weeks straight while we told people to buy outside the mall.” 

Y/n’s quiet. 

“We sold the most of any in our class.” 

That night, Y/n didn’t really tell Eric that as long as the moon shines on Earth, there will be a constant light upon her, trailing her steps along the asphalt. That she has during this time, become a traitor of the heaven’s and time.

But because that night passed too, the three of them stand in the metropolitan mall. A city where everyone lives or wishes to. In the vertical path down to the opposite end of the white structure, they are. Glass windows with electric doors down every path and five floors that hound above them. Despite an seemingly endless amount of space, the marble floor is nearly invincible when shoes run like tidal waves above it. 

Y/n stands in trance with her head up to watch the banners come down on them from the highest floor. The golden light doesn’t cast itself like sunset as the artificial studio light leaves no corner hidden. But by a certain tilt of one's head, the heart of the light bulb, a shimmer closer to a star during night, reaches the pupil. 

“I know a good store.” Eric says and takes one step forward, “It’s not expensive there either-” 

Though Juyeon forces him to reverse as he reaches out his hand. Juyeon turns to see Y/n beside him, gaping at the high ceiling and he gently intertwines his other hand with hers. 

“You have your phone on, Eric?”

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“My ringtone gives me panic attacks, should we go or not?” 

“I-” 

“We don’t have all day!” Eric takes the lead by stepping into the crowd. Juyeon comes quickly after and naturally forces Y/n to stop staring at mall decorations. Two different entrances later and a desire to desperately rip off every last layer of clothing, the three of them stand in the store cluster which Eric pointed at. The youngest insists deeply on a store with massive red signs across the windows, indicating an illegally low price, meanwhile Juyeon argues back that it’s smarter to get actual costumes from the party-hell-store next door. 

Democracy isn’t on Eric’s side since Y/n stands with wide eyes, still with Juyeon’s hand in hers. Clearly she didn’t have much of an opinion as her answer when Eric tried to get her on his side was what the hell is a costume supposed to be? As Eric’s store windows had white tees and colored jeans, Juyeon pointed at a mannequin in hot dog costume. 

“They just have stupid stuff there.” Eric complains as they walk into the party store.

“You don’t have to choose the hot dog costume.” Juyeon answers. 

They reiterate the plan and pass the paper plates and party hats down the clothing aisle. Immediately, Juyeon walks to the corner and Y/n watches as Eric stops before her. 

“I want to be a devil.” Eric takes up the rectangular plastic bag. Y/n leans over and sees the model in an awkwardly cut suit, pants with way too tight seams that ends above the ankles, and, the cherry on top, a dejecting pair of plastic vibrant red devil horns.

“No one goes to the devil for love advice.” Y/n complains and continues down the aisle. At the furthest end of the costume section, Juyeon stands between the plastic bags. He holds two different ones, the right one he lifts up so that the spotlight in the ceiling shines atrociously on it. 

For every step she expects to see the awareness in his face as he looks to her side. But instead, he stands with a slight pout while still holding the plastic bag in front of his face. Y/n smiles as she’s a little less than a meter away. To lean on her toes to reach over, catch a glimpse of the front model. 

“Is this how I’m supposed to look?” Y/n tilts her head as she looks at the woman on the front wrapping of the fabrics. Synthetic wings falling off the back with an even cheaper shine over the arrow and bow. The little white dress is dull, though short as the hem ends mid thigh. 

“No, you’re prettier." His answer comes close at the end of her own sentence. His eyes aren’t on hers when he says it, he too looks at the model picture of the packaging. Y/n turns to look at him when his face is still in usual saturation and pout visible.

“Really?” Y/n tilts her head and can’t help but break into a smile. Juyeon looks up and views intertwine. That rose blush stains his skin once again and he scratches the back of his hair profusely. He takes a step back, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind. To turn her head to still watch him, he disappears from her sight and instead, feels a warm weight on her back. The waves of his voice perceive that spot beneath her hair when he speaks. 

“Go and try it on.” His voice is in faint volume as he starts pushing her shoulders gently. 

Y/n laughs, “Okay.” 

At the left direction he prod her, reside three high rectangles in row. Y/n opens the one closest to her and walks in. After she forces the curtain to divide, she hears Juyeon’s voice outside, ensued by a familiar whine. Y/n smiles for herself when the metal rings at the edge hit against the railing as Juyeon tries to force Eric in. 

At last, the velvet closes, and soon, the adjacent walls uncover. Juyeon stands a meter away, watches how Y/n lifts the fabric over her head and the hem takes some of her hair with it. Her feet stay serene, looking down her front while her fingers compress the chemical fibers. 

“I think it’s too big.” She looks up at him. Arms fall to its sides together with the flat line dress. Juyeon’s lips form to speak, but precisely, it intersects with Eric who extracts the curtain and walks out. The shirt reaches down his wrists and radiates an agonizing white shade, the pants, in same shade, drape over his legs. Lastly, the tiny wings and plastic bow in his hand. The halo in his hair sits tilted, folded at the center, beaming in the store light over his displeasure. 

Juyeon and Y/n are silent at the closing seconds of his entrance. But the visor alternate another minute and the two burst out laughing at the same time. Their silhouettes bend to the floor and cover their laughter with right hands. And if the knit between Eric’s eyebrows couldn’t get tighter, even his lips press harder. 

“But you look really cute, Eric.” Y/n coos and walks to him. The side of her palm perceives the veil over his shoulder. He looks down towards her, causes the halo to shake and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’m serious!” She takes the other hand, where she too has a bow, on his opposite shoulder. Eric lets the thin line on his lips loosen a little as Y/n assures him. Though he hears a giggle a meter away, shift to see Juyeon’s phone in their direction. 

“Hey!” The younger runs over to Juyeon who lifts the phone to the ceiling. The little plastic halo above his head flutters as he stands on tip toes while reaching for the screen. 

“No, it’s so good!” Juyeon still laughs and takes the phone behind his back. Eric is left with that same complexion of oddenment on his features as the two laughs. 

“I think it looks good.” Juyeon says after. He points at the ill fitting dress on Y/n but acknowledges Eric got the right size. He says they should go to Eric’s store and get a better white dress. 

“Aren’t you gonna dress up?” Eric throws at Juyeon. 

“You should too.” Y/n complains and points at him with the bow, “We look like idiots, you need to look like one too.” 

Juyeon glance the room and takes a step back, “But I didn't find any in my size.” He affirms with high arms.

“Bullshit, just be an ancient myth man.” Eric, deadpans. 

“There’s no myth man costume.” Juyeon says confused. 

“Then we make one.” 

-

“Isn’t this one lovely?” 

Juyeon looks up and sees Y/n between two racks of aisles. In her hands, a white baby blue dress that she puts against her front as if wearing it. The lace excess attached to the skirt and half length sleeves imitate her own twirls. 

The coloration with his hands falls to the sides as she looks up towards him. Her eyes fixated on him after her question. Juyeon opens his mouth, but takes a breath and his free hands come up the back of his neck. Scratching lightly as he looks towards another aisle with transparent bags. Groups of young girls run past them and he shakes his head, therefore, the fringe comes before his eyes, making his pupils hide in between shadows of his strands. 

“It’s really pretty.” He says shyly and smiles, takes a step closer and forces his chin up a bit higher, “You’re really pretty in it.” 

Y/n takes her palm towards the stomach of the dress and looks down, “You’re honest?” She laughs. 

The hand quickly falls off his skin and top the side of his thigh. The pink coloration saturated into his cheeks are still in full view, but his lips turn pressed and downward. Just as his eyes grow wider and he eagerly nods his head. The strands of his hair follow those precisions and he continues to speak while it falls further. 

“You are.” He repeats in a clear tone which makes her laugh again. 

“Okay, then, I believe you.” 

-

Once the afternoon stood on its last hours, all three had found their costumes. Y/n in a white dress that accumulates at the writs where it tights into a ribbon before the remaining fabric folds out like a flower. It sat under the paper poster for the early spring collection. Juyeon got a shirt in a similar edition. The details on both sort of seamlessly intertwine. When taking a quick look in the passing window stores, the two seem to share sensibility. And then of course, Eric as a baby cupid. 

Juyeon’s hair was in need of a change since the shirt alone couldn’t disclose the intentions behind. He suggested a lovely braid to form around his head, though, neither of the three knew how to braid. Because of that, they sat forty five additional minutes at the mall beside different baby strollers. Juyeon had searched up a braid tutorial, held it before his face, Beside him sat Y/n on her knees and constantly switched from looking at his hair and screen. The result was of partial essence from the original, and with a yellow bouquet they bought before walking, Juyeon looks rather like a flower boy at a wedding than fantastical character. 

At the center of a meeting platform before the river, they stand in line. The yellow flowers together with the synthetic wings on their backs are taken by the wind. Youth in close knitted groups and couples walking hand in hand pass by the metal railing and the bridge connecting to the opposite side. All three have a box of their own and with a breath or two, they separate from the mit and walk over the frozen concrete paving in late afternoon. 

As the unknown always has people afraid, not many notes land in the bottom of their boxes. But as the sun comes down the sky and closes in on the rooftops, people their age become intrigued by the enchantment and put their name together with a bill. As such, pictures of plastic wings spread around corners of the internet with rumors about the magic. 

- 

As the person before her walks to the left, Y/n waves gently as their figure becomes another someone in the crowd. With no close frame in sight, the sun that edges on the horizon, spreads its pink coloration above her vision. Her hand holds the box as a wind comes from the right direction of the city and intertwines itself into her hair. The white fabric of the sheer skirt touches against her skin and the plastic wings lean towards the bridge. And as if the wind became gifted, to affect the significance, a clear pathway towards the edge of the river opens up. 

How both the start and end of a bridge captures in a total frame. The dividing sides of the city in opposite parts of her rectangular vision. Y/n takes a breath and lets the setting sun in final clear sky complete the hues on her face.

When her eyes arrange the disposition and total focus settles onto a silhouette. Y/n’s grip around the box falters and the incoming wind might take the rest of her essence with it this time. The cheap chiffon fabrics wrapped around his body shines of white, just as his close orbit. Though the pigment, only parts of his features stand in highlight as the rest in shadow from the rosy hue above. 

Y/n moves her head suddenly, forcing the loose strands before her eyes to fall towards the side profile. Slowly she takes a step down the clear path, follows the lines in between frozen cracks to where he leans over the railing. Juyeon has his eyes set on a vague point on the horizon. When she, too, stands beside him, she follows the imaginative line of his pupil and fails to make out the disoriented city lines. 

Y/n turns to him, “I haven’t asked you yet.” 

Juyeon turns to her with vast eyes. 

“If you want to write a name.” She holds the pink cardboard box out for him. Her hand shortens distance, but there is still a void to be completed. He stands silent. Let each passing conversation fill that space up until it becomes vague from another direction. The motions in the river, it comes up against the stone they stand on before changing tide. Juyeon looks at Y/n and smiles like he always does as he shakes his head gently. 

She tilts her head. Curiously wander to the pupil of his eye and search for entrance into his mind, but there’s nothing to open. With his aching heart underneath his throat, Y/n expected a certain answer from him, an answer most humans would give. She smiles as wonder entrances her mind when thinking about his own. 

“Okay.” Y/n answers in her usual tone. Take the box back to her own side and like Juyeon, let a part of her weight lean against the metal railing. 

A couple walks them by, hand in hand towards the other bridge in far sight. Juyeon follows them until the color of their shirts fades in between the others. His eyes fall back on Y/n’s frame. Her profile towards the reflection in the water and he contemplates in silence before asking. 

“What happens to all the names people write down?”

Y/n faces him as the question spreads into all directions over the river surface, and when it maybe reaches the opposite end, Y/n stops to tilt her head. 

“They fall in love…or what do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows. 

Juyeon shakes his head and smiles. Watch the scenery behind him where the buildings soar above the open platform and lovers walk hand in hand. Eric sits on a bench, further away, with a stranger probably his own age by the parallel complexion. 

“Do they just fall in love forever or…” to attentively consider details of expressions and body language, his own skin brushes against the cold railing.

“No, they don’t” Y/n shakes her head. 

“Most will probably fall out of love in a week or so…” The curves of her lips have become amicable, he remarks, when Y/n looks at him.

“Maybe one or two couples go on for some months.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, arm over the railing and the weight of his body advances onto it. The flicker between the colors of his eyes reaches for another one, just like it. But at the edge of finding it, she turns her chin down where waves return from the stone, and another wind pulls fabrication before their sight. 

“Why?” He asks curiously. 

Y/n purses her lips in. Her essence stands on physical space but the fragments of thoughts, collecting her being, solely wanders somewhere else. 

“I don’t know why.” The tone is disheartening, “I wish I knew too.” 

“You don’t?” he says surprised, “You’re the love God.” 

“Yeah,” She smiles, “but I’m not good at being one.” 

“Is that’s why you’re here?” He asks gently after silence. 

Y/n’s quiet and completely still for a moment before nodding without giving him a glance. 

“People are getting heartbroken all the time and aren’t finding love, and I can’t figure out why.” She pauses, “Mother’s angry at me.” Y/n lets her chin fall onto the railing and she leans over the cold metal and watches the sun go behind the horizon. 

“I don’t want to live like that, especially since I can’t even do the only thing I was created for.” 

Another silent passage in time, she speaks again. 

“And your breakup last month was probably also because of me.” She looks at him with a smile but eyes of starshine, on the edge of its own death, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“It is.” 

“There’s eight billion people, that’s a lot to put on one person.” 

She looks at him, still leaning on the railing.

“I mean, one being.” He corrects. 

Y/n smiles again in which he too does. 

“You know, for humans you’re never perfect at first try.” He looks out over the river, “For all the professionals, more than talent, they train over and over again.” She looks at him and he stutters while scratching his neck. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” He squints, “Practice makes perfect, you’ve never experienced human life until now, of course it’s confusing.” He pauses and takes a step closer. The view of him comes higher up.

“If you want, I can help you.” Another wind passes, while the same rose color against the sky transmits over to his cheeks.

“Teach you what human love is like,” When she still isn’t speaking he takes a irregular breath, “I’ve had two girlfriends before, a lot of dates, I’m very experienced so you don’t have to-” 

“Okay, I want you to teach me.” Y/n laughs. He closes his mouth once he realizes the diffuse pace of wording. Though, smiles as her clothes strive free with the next breeze. Juyeon’s relieved as Y/n has visibly fallen interested in a shape at the other end. Only in need of his voice to affirm the color, not his red stained warm cheeks.

To a change of a digit by the “Sunday '' written on the phone. Y/n opens her eyes to see morning filtrate through the curtains. Her hands come behind her posture to force herself off the layers of cloth. At Eric’s bed at the other end of the same corner, he lies spread out in total absence. His face is buried within the pillow and his right leg has fallen off the bed and touches the floor. 

Without any sort of considerable intentions, Y/n looks down beside the bed. The thin mattress is still out with an imprint among the creases of the sheet. Despite being devoid of any life, a trail of essence aviates above it. The disarray of plates stacking comes from the open kitchen. Y/n looks towards the window and sees Juyeon roaming through the shelves. 

She herself lets the covers come off her body and accumulate beneath the pillows. With each one of her steps, a creak course through the flooring. With the ceasing distance in intervention, Juyeon feels the faint change on the spot he stands on when her presence comes closer. He looks away from the shelf and sees Y/n, her right hand is up before her eye and he smiles like he always does to her. 

“Good morning, Y/n.” 

“Good morning,” She answers in a quiet tone. 

“Did you sleep well, Angel?” He asks while he lets his head fall down to the counter as he groups in spoons and chopsticks. Y/n blinks a few times and stares at his side profile as he opens the cabinet beneath. 

“Angel?” She tilts her head and Juyeon looks back at her. 

“Yeah, Angel?”“I always used Love, but I think you fit Angel better.” 

“Oh, okay.” She tilts her head still and squints her eyes at his frame. He seems to detail that there’s something still left to be said, so he looks back at her again. 

“Am I supposed to call you something too or?”

She asks him with genuine perplexity and he remembers again, that she’s not human. He smiles. How magical, he thinks, that someone that bears on enchantment and bliss to change his state of life in seconds, stands before him. Juyeon has never really believed in gods, even now he isn’t particularly drawn to religion, but Y/n in her otherworldly enchantment but relatable demeanor seems to come beyond any sort of devotion. 

“Only if you want. It’s called pet names, it's common between couples.” 

Her eyes widen, “People see each other as pets? Like those dogs they’re out walking?” Y/n gestures with her hand onto the floor. The new information is rather unsettling, how much of the human love she didn’t understand, she thinks. 

Juyeon laughs and comes closer to her, “No.” He takes his hands onto her shoulders while her eyes are still appalled. 

“Or some couple out there probably. "But not most.” 

“Why pet names?” 

He thinks, “I don’t know, it’s cute? Pets are cute, so you’re cute.” 

“Okay.” Y/n seem to only half accept his explanation. 

“Can I still just call you Juyeon?” She asks. 

“You can,” He pouts, “Though, no one has ever given me a pet name.” 

She smiles, “No one?” 

“I always ask them to give me one, but they don’t.” He sulks. 

“I like your name, it’s pretty. I think it fits you.” 

The picture before her, as she’s still in his hands. The sprout from which his hair blossoms, faces her, but in the ending sequence of her sentence, his face comes up in height with hers. The sulk, seized by the floor. He smiles again in which she tilts her head. 

“You’re really simple, Juyeon.” She laughs and takes a step back. By the nature of the motion, his hands fall off her shoulders. Juyeon stands in vertical posture once again and concentrates on the ends of his lips, so as to not pout again. 

“I’m not.” He says quietly. Before he turns his head back to the counter, though, Y/n catches the remote sulk formed underneath his nose. 

Sometimes through the hits against the counter surface and pans, they hear Eric turn sideways and wrap his body in another round of fabrics. She looks from the cutting board to the beds and Juyeon notices. He tells her that there is no use in low volume, that the entire building could start shaking and his consciousness would not move an inch closer to its physical state. 

As he stands beside her and goes between the stove and cutting board to show her how to cut the vegetables. The broth in the pot simmers, damp heat comes up in his face and spreads onto the metal spoon as he brings it down. Juyeon tastes the broth first before taking it down a second time. He holds his free hand underneath the spoon and turns to Y/n’s. Her hair has fallen before that side of her face. Only when those strands come to the back of her ear, she looks away from the white plastic and towards Juyeon. 

Being conditioned to fall back, Y/n leans away from his close hands. Sees a single steam grow like rosen stems during spring, Juyeon comes closer to the spoon and blows on it. Y/n’s eyes are small when they intertwine with his own. 

“Try it.” He says in his sweet voice. 

“Can’t I just…” The free hand on her other side hesitantly reaches for the spoon. 

“I’ll feed you.” 

Her face turns to the left as if to gesture him a no, but when he looks at her with those pearl glance eyes. Y/n sighs and leans forward. His hand comes under her chin and he helps her by tilting the spoon a little. Y/n’s own hand comes up to Juyeon’s who holds it before she returns to her own place. 

“It’s good.” 

-

Eric left the cramped apartment soon after eating. The sun’s out the entirety of the weekend and his friends had sent messages all night to meet on Sunday. Y/n went to bed again after eating, lying on the outer side and with the sheets at the very end of the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, watches hidden shadows in patterns. Though, steps on the floor cross onto the carpet and soon after, she feels the weight on the mattress shift. Y/n turns to look at the change, and when her cheek falls into the pillow, Juyeon’s eyes are there to meet. 

Y/n sits up and takes one of her legs off the height, but Juyeon takes her arm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I thought you wanted to lie here?” 

“No, I wanted to be here because you were.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s comfortable.” He smiles, “Couples do it all the time.” 

“Are you serious, or are you just using that as an excuse because I let you teach me about human romance?” She squints his eyes at him, in which Juyeon forces his head from the mattress and reaches his hand out for her upper arm. He shakes his head while laughing quietly, reiterating that he speaks truth. Y/n can’t keep the stale expression when he smiles so deeply and the pillow pushes his hair closer to his face. Eventually she lets his arm pull her down fully again. 

“Do people just lie like this?” Her hands rests over her stomach where the ruffles of the shirt accumulate. A tilt of her head in a direction closer to his existence, but nowhere in full sight does she get a glimpse of even a hair strand, just the ceiling in sunlight from the curtains. 

“Sometimes.” Juyeon answers. He turns his head fully and so does Y/n. Their chin rests on the light blue stripes, folded where the weight are. 

“Sometimes it’s very comforting doing nothing with the one you love.” 

“Why?” 

Juyeon takes his hands in between the pillow and his chin, “Love needs no words.” His voice is gentle, passing her ears like the faint brush of the new washed sheets against her upper calf. A vague nod comes from her side as they still look at each other.

Juyeon suddenly breathes a little stronger, “But other times we do this.” 

Y/n doesn’t get to high her eyebrows or part her lips. The hands underneath his chin forces his weight off the pillow and Y/n feels him lean towards her side. He sits up fully and in the same duration from her eyelid closing and opening, Juyeon has taken his hands down her arms and neck, fervently tickling her. 

The expression of confusion painted by her features turns to a desperate smile as she tries to escape his attack. To kick her leg onto the sheets beneath her and shout Juyeon’s name as his laugh becomes louder for every centimeter the fabric falls down the bed. To not let her escape, Juyeon unconsciously sets his knee on the other side of her body. Her figure stays in between his own frame as she falls deeper down the pillow. 

“Juyeon, stop, I’m serious!” Y/n laughs in panic. 

Eventually his hands come to rest beside her upper arms and the laughter turns to heavy breathing. Juyeon faces from above, still smiling, as Y/n lies with the side of her face against the pillow. That until she stares at him, while fully hidden between his own complexion. Each of her breaths comes to him like the green leaves during spring. Just as the incident, the rose color of flowers in small sprouts bloom on the side of his face. Y/n looks down from his eyes, just one centimeter in distance to see the saturation. She smiles again. 

“You’re always so red, Juyeon.” 

Juyeon takes his head further against his chest to hide it, but there is no use. She laughs lightly as his hair falls before his eyes and he is forced to shake his head when he comes back up. They look in silence at each other's features. Mere sunlight comes in between the thin curtains and cats itself over the shadows. Dust from the sheets cease between the space and Juyeon leans in a bit closer. The shine in her pupil comes all the higher in her coloration as his lips are above hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He speaks gently. 

Y/n laughs again and shakes her head. Seconds cruelly pass them where they lay enchanted in white-blue sheets. The sounds of folding fabric beside her ears, without visual frame she imagines a butterfly at the breaking of dusk, to spread its wings before full sun. But truly, it’s purely, without decorations, Juyeon’s hands beside her body that flutter at the closing distance between them. 

He who always leaves a space in between, Juyeon lets his head fall closer to hers. The pace is incredibly cruel, but so sympathetical, as he stops where they can see each other’s flaws and their breath dampens the other's lips. Time stands so pianfully still when he waits for Y/n to say or do anything. He looks into her eyes, searches for something, but she tries to use the parted distance between her lips but nothing comes out. 

There’s a sort of apprehension somewhere between all of her physical essence. But it dies with every second. In the dilemma playing faintly before her eyes, in the background she sees Juyeon’s eyes come further away from hers. The sensation of guilt and fear were on the verge of death, and fall flat line in an instant. As to desperately not make him disappear, Y/n takes her hands up from her sides. Juyeon gasps quietly when gently holding his face. 

And at last, when she takes him back to her, Juyeon lets his weight on his hands shift to his right knee as their lips collide. Y/n falls a centimeter further into the stripes of the pillow case. It creases at the edges. The pattern changes in structure when Juyeon brings his knee up a bit further. In a boundless room devoid of sounds, the kiss lingers between the four walls. 

As Juyeon gently takes his tongue out for hers, Y/n trace the lines of his features up to his hair. Their mouths are just a little open when she intertwines her hand through his strands. The tips of his fingers scratch against the surface. Through the slight space in between their lips, Juyeon whines. It trails through her clothing and hearten her hand to force the strands tighter around her skin to hear him again. 

And as they encourage the other to fall in closer, the room that had been detached from space and time comes back. The door echoes through the apartment and folds of clothing come after. Before any footsteps close into the kitchen, Y/n’s hands fall back to the mattress and Juyeon throws himself off his arms and lands on his previous place. When Eric comes into the kitchen and lets his eyes span over the details he sees everyday, he stops at their bed. Arms completely down their sides and face up against the ceiling. Eric knits his eyebrows. 

“Are you trying to teach Y/n magic tricks?” Eric asks. 

Juyeon lifts his head from the pillow to look at him. 

“Don’t even try, she’s literally immortal.” Eric goes to the sink and takes a cup. 

“I didn’t even-” Juyeon defends. 

“I’m not immortal?” Y/n cuts Juyeon off by lifting up her head in the same manner to look at Eric. He’s already on his second glass of water. 

“You know what I mean, mythical creature and the unfunniest person alive.” Eric smiles. 

“I think I’m funny.” Juyeon defends and turns his head to look at Y/n. 

“I’m funny?” 

Y/n laughs a little as he looks at her with vast eyes, “When you try not to; yes.” 

He pouts and turns the other way, in which Y/n laughs fully. To turn her own silhouette and let her free hand reach out for his shoulder. 

- 

Y/n takes her legs off the mattress. It creaks when she stands fully on the carpet and it faintly lingers when she walks out the kitchen and further down the hallway. Juyeon, who lies beside her, compels to feet and without any obligatory commands, starts walking after. Y/n looks behind her once to see him trail the invincible steps along her. She takes the bathroom handle and looks at him again. He stands close to the opposite wall, right eye wearied. And the scene, in static vision for another passage, until Y/n tilts her head and asks him;

“Are you coming with me in or?” 

Even with a question fully spoken in between the takes, Juyeon looks at her with the expression he always has. But like February into March in reversion, his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Juyeon says something Y/n can’t decide if it were comprehensible words. When in no trance, he disappears from the hall, out the kitchen and back onto the bed. She knits her eyebrows while staring at the serene flooring before she closes the bathroom door. 

Eric sits in his bed with his phone, but tears his eyes off the screen when Juyeon comes back after only a minute. The older pays no intention of looking to the side and Eric sees him shaking his head before falling onto the mattress. The short video clip on his phone rewinds again as he smiles for himself. 

“I never knew you would be such an attention seeker when your girlfriend left.” Eric looks towards Juyeon. He has his arms crossed over his chest while in his own corner of the world. 

“I’m not.” Juyeon protests. 

Eric snorts which makes Juyeon look at him, “Yeah, and I’m Jacob Elordi.” 

The younger scrolls to the next short clip before talking again, “Come on, you can’t even be two meters away from her. I see how your arm twitches of starvation from her just being in the bathroom.” 

Juyeon takes his hands from his chest, letting them spread out before the background, “They’re not at all.” 

He takes the phone in his other hand, rises so that the sheets fall off his upper body. Eric lifts the pillow higher before he falls down to feathers again and watches the blue light radiate off his screen. 

“Either way, I support your future marriage with Y/n, I could even be the flower boy.” 

“We’re-I-” He stutters and looks at Eric who snickers at the screen, “I just think she’s nice.” 

Eric refrains from throwing more comments across the room. Instead continues to mindlessly consume the massive subtitles on screen. Soon after when the bathroom door opens, the audio from Eric’s phone has rewinded across twenty times and Juyeon walks up to his edge. Eric lies with eyes closed and lips slightly apart while his hand with the device hangs off the bed. Juyeon pushes the turn off button and it becomes quiet in the apartment. 

As Y/n walks across the kitchen area, Juyeon straightens his posture. A sudden burn comes between his throat as he looks down. The fingers of his right hand touch the spot that grows with itch. The sensation makes him want to further reach his hand through the skin and scratch what bothers. He coughs when Y/n comes to the line crossing the kitchen and bedroom. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” 

Juyeon turns from the corner where Eric lies and sees Y/n with her head tilted. He coughs again before facing her fully. 

“Yeah, I must catched a cold or something.” He reassures. 

That afternoon, evening boundary, pink encloses orange in softly curved patterns. How the sunset at the very peak of its livelihood, soon will bleach from the celestial and leave nothing but those stars holding hands in constellations to remind us that it was there. And as it shines over the edge of the river, hangs lowly over the open square, Y/n walks over to Eric sitting alone on one of the seats at the center of the open space. A passing wind intertwines like ribbons through their hair, braid them in irregular patterns before letting go. Eric feels the essence of another identity under the collapsing sun enter his field. 

He looks beside his left shoulder and sees Y/n smiling, though, it might just be the sunset, but there’s a whimsical bearing to her expression in plastic wings. 

“I realized you haven’t written a name.” He turns focus from her eyes down to the pink box as she holds it close to him. 

“You don’t have anyone you like?” She asks. 

Eric’s quiet for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. Her silhouette stands in contrast to the setting sun. Each shine streak runs into the river and reflects like a horizontal mirror. The outline of her shoulders divides the flicker, causing him to squint. Y/n herself let the box fall onto her thighs. When another wind comes, a short lived reflection on his hair passes by. Cupid tilts her head and observes his features. A visible lack of emotion and eyes on a dead tree. Another group of people walk down the river and Y/n smiles again. 

“Seems like it.” She says. 

Eric suddenly asks, “Can you write down someone else’s name? Two people you want to be together?”

She looks at the box then back at him, “Usually no, but I’ve already interfered in enough lives.” Y/n takes up the pen and pink paper, “Try.” 

Eric takes the pastel note and presses the synthetic end on his palm. When he gifts it to her, he sees her smile grow wider as she reads it. Eric’s lips too, like a wildflower during the incoming flourish season, grow as she laughs a little. On the piece of paper stands two names, Y/n and Lee Juyeon. She let it descend down the thin opening of the box. While still looking down at the space created by cardboard, she speaks. 

“That won’t work, though.” Y/n speaks gently. 

Eric tilts his head suddenly, keeping his hands at the edge of the bench. 

“Why?” 

“I’m not human, right?” She still smiles, but Eric’s has withered. 

“I don’t understand, gods and humans can’t be together?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “No” She shifts in her place, “It’s just, the rules don't work as they normally do, it might end up bad.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just bad, not fun…it’s not important.” Y/n takes her hand before her face, standing up and locks eyes. 

“Juyeon will be fine.” 

For days closest to present, that itch at the very bottom of his throat has become stronger. Each night he touches the spot where it hurts the most, and his fingers trails higher for every night. The other day Juyeon surrendered and went to the pharmacy. He took coughing medicine, but at last he stands before the hand sink, throwing lilac flower petals. The first time, he stood perplexed and backed away until his calf hit the tub. 

At the same time, he thinks about what Eric said to him, that day of the kiss. While the hours pass them by he always finds himself having music on or cleaning dishes, searching for job applications. Cause, when neither of them are with him, and there is little to no sound to surround him, those scenes play before him. 

It was night and he turned to the other side of the floor. He searched coughing flower petals. In immediate blue links, informative paragraphs describe the cases of physical effects of a yearning heart. The pictures showed strangers with flowers in shades scattered over white sinks. His heart picked up pace before he shut off his phone and forced his eyes closed. He has the love goddess beside him to lead him, but it only aches to think that he stands alone at the edge of the bridge, longing for the other end when it doesn’t reciprocate. At midnight, he’s forced to accept his heart's admiration for Y/n. He refuses to let the knife remove the love out of his body, instead, begs in moonlight for fate to spare them. 

- 

There’s a gentle touch over his head. It reverses before it comes back. A sharp point between his hair strands and further down where his neck starts. As his eyes are still closed and mind in a different dimension, he doesn’t register how he slowly starts to lean towards the touch every time it disappears. Eventually, the moonlight cast at the other wall becomes apparent and he sees Eric’s silhouette beneath it. It shines of city lights in the furthest window above the kitchen. 

Behind him, he hears soft creases of fabric lines. It comes from the material in his own bed, but his arms are at the front side. There’s a faint opening between his eyelids and he feels the touch linger down his cheek until it trails to his chin. It tickles when it gently outlines his nose. Once Juyeon opens his eyes fully, he tries to look up. On that side of him, a startled motion comes between the soft folds and the warmth on his face stills. 

All shadows leisurely adjust and he makes out the room. But in that space, left of his mattress and frame of carpet sits Y/n. He recognizes her features in turned axis shimmer and traces her upper arm down to her hand on his face. She still caresses his cheek when they look at each other. When Juyeon takes his hands to either side and forces himself up, the fabric sounds violent as a shadow covers the cast on the wall. He watches how she quickly makes her way out the kitchen. 

He can’t describe why, when his mind is half asleep and his body cold of the thin fabrics. Though, he does fully take off from the mattress and follows her. He sees her figure disappear through the bathroom door and when she stands to see her reflection in the mirror, Juyeon leans his hand on the edge of the door. Y/n looks at him when he walks in. There’s a meter in between them, and she tries to keep the same distance as he closes the door gently and walks forward. 

At some point, her back hits the cold wall and Juyeon, with some space still separating them, reaches for her left hand off her side. Y/n’s quiet when he brings it to the blossom of his head. He leans down so that she subtly makes out the shadows beneath his fringe. Juyeon gently ushers her hand to mirror those motions from a minute ago. Where the whole cityscape stands in silence, the clearest thing spoken through the barrier is the sigh of relief Juyeon does when her hand reaches his neck. 

He lets his knee rest where the divide forms between her own. How his soft breaths affect her own person. Cause eventually Juyeon separates his hand from hers as she on her own starts to touch his hair. For each caress along the silk, her palm continues deeper onto his neck. At last, her fingers reach where the collar of his shirt starts. To be touched even faintly in a place unaffected for so long, he whines. His head that faces the floor lands underneath her chin. The cheap shampoo reaches her nose and his breath dampens the spot above her collar. 

The ends of his hair scratches against her skin and, by consequence, her other hand comes to the center where his shoulder and neck meet. 

With the door closed, there’s no light source from any of the quiet corners. But for each breath they both take, he becomes all clearer. His face is buried underneath her while his body leans as close. The contrast of the painfully cold wall and the heat spreading from his essence. It’s so deeply attractive in her eyes, how he folds when she reaches her fingers a step further down his shirt. The quiet whimpers get muted in her neck. She desperately wants to hear it again, the hand from his shoulder and outlines his neck up to his chin where she lets her thumb caress the skin before coming back down to the shoulder. 

“Y/n, fuck.” He moans cruelly onto her skin. It creates some free room between her hand and his shoulder when he falls down to his knees. The warmth that has accumulated above her chest, turns instant cold when there is no barrier before the grading temperature. 

Her eyes naturally follow his own which are locked on the edge of her sleeping wear. Where the muted pattern convulse into each other and a harsh line before her own skin. Juyeon timidly takes his fingers onto that edge. All warmth in his body rushes to the inner parts, there is nothing but cold on his fingertips when they for a moment touch beneath her stomach. Juyeon looks up, the color in his eyes comes through the fringe and his hand flexes when holding onto her sleeping wear. 

“I want to-can I?” He stutters profusely while looking into her eyes. It’s not enough light for the pigment on his upper face to reflect back into Y/n’s own vision. He looks away and faces the wall of the bathtub. 

Y/n’s own chest has started to pick up pace while a limited gap between her lips forms to afford it. The lid on her eyes closes and opens profusely as he refuses to state the expression on his face. The inpatient motions with the urge to not look at her, she desperately wants him to say it when her mind runs to try to comprehend it. 

“Sorry, Juyeon, I really don’t understand.” 

Her hand still in laces with his own essence starts to gently advance across the back of his head again. He sighs when she reaches a sensitive spot down his neck and brings his head back. It affects her mind deeply so that her own physical state falls on the wall behind her and shifts her right leg. 

“Please, I want to make you feel good.” He holds his head high to maintain the contact. The fabric of her shorts comes tighter around her waist when he pulls it again. 

“I want to lick your…” He whispers to her, in a volume equal to the sounds coming from her hands in his hair. Y/n nearly reaches down to mute his words, but the desire to shift her leg again blinds those thoughts and she nods. 

“I want you too, Juyeon.” 

Her words seem to have freed the chain off him and gently lets the two layers of fabric touch her thighs down to her calves. Juyeon takes his own hand up her waist and the other around her left leg. To carefully, as if made out of velvet he forces her up onto his shoulder. Y/n tears her eyes away from him and falls head against the cold hard wall when goes in between her thighs. The soft changes in direction from his tongue and the careful advances as he watches her reactions from below. 

The hand on his hair becomes tighter when the sensation goes inside her two walls for even a second. There’s constant shame as she lets him completely mend the soar spots with a part of his existence. She can’t tell if Juyeon feels it too, but to never let her eyes be open for more than a second, because when her head falls onto the wall and her eyes stare up the ceiling. An invisible but cruel rain falls onto her from above, a circle of faces from her youth watches how one of their own crumbles before a human. 

“Juyeon.” 

She strokes his head once again and Juyeon closes his own eyes. Y/n has been forcing her lips shut of fear to hear her own sounds echo in between the walls. But at last, when he grips onto her calf a bit stronger and the end of his hair brushes up against her thighs, a cry of pure bliss comes between her lips while her hips move forward. Juyeon continues with his lips to let the sensation gently fade. 

Y/n breathes heavily while still leaning onto the wall. Juyeon comes up from the floor and lies one hand on her shoulder. With eyes closed, reminiscent of weekend morning when her own self is far from the body, lovely gathered in his worn down sheets. How Juyeon solely comes closer to make the pixels of her features clearer and discover the secret appearance, one who is only this close can make out. 

Y/n finally opens her eyes and there is barely a distance between them. Juyeon has let go of the space and has his entire front against her own. There’s a firmer impression in contrast to the rest of his body. It pushes onto her lower stomach in timid motions. Her arms embrace herself as she smiles and laughs suddenly. 

Juyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh and forces his head under her chin again. A faint ‘no’ escapes, barely audible, which causes her own eyes to look over the line in which his hair grows. And she forces him from her chest just a little. His sight is still in lock with the floor and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’ll do it now.” 

As she takes his hand, directs to the bathtub and pushes him gently down the cold material. Whatever’s left of the world becomes merely a singular. When the last lights of the cityscape passes through the visual horizon at the end of the universe, Y/n lets herself on top of him fully and takes her hands onto his face while staring in deep adoration with no sense of responsibility. 

Truly she feels her heart pick up a pace she never thought was possible when creating friction onto them both with easy advances of her hips, and the back of his head falls against the edge. With no other light visible, a single star burns off in the upper left corner when he opens his right eye to look at her. 

Juyeon feels the fabric enclose him painfully underneath her and he moans desperately. To force himself up from the edge, he holds his hands on the sides of the tub and comes precisely under her own lips. Y/n continues to fall back in motion while Juyeon tilts his head up to take her lips. Tension tears off like two desperate sides of a rubber band and Juyeon takes his hands on her hips. To take his knee up higher to force her chest closer to his own. 

Behind the door, there's nowhere to go, he wishes for them to continue being in this place, this emotion. 

Juyeon trails hands up to her waist. To get on his knees and gently make her come in contact with the white tub. Her hair spreads out the sides of the curvature and his mouth comes agape when he watches her eyes, in what he hopes is at least brief adoration. 

Once again he puts his hips into her own. Timidly pushes against her through all the layers of fabric and breathes out. Y/n lifts her own leg up to make room for the climbing friction between them. Juyeon sighs and lets his head fall down, in which Y/n takes her hands through his hair and moans. 

She can see his expression, and he looks as divine as he sounds. She soothes the side of his head and tilts her head before whispering. 

“Juyeon?” 

He moans again and pushes his hips harder into hers. 

“My name sounds lovely when you say it.” He pauses to breathe again, “Please say my name again?” 

Y/n swallows and the pupil of her eye comes in between him, the friction soon the wall behind them. So quietly but still enough so he can hear how she calls his name again. 

“Juyeon…” 

A pleasure hits him through his spine and he moans again while holding onto nothing with his other arm. The constant humping makes her not glide down the bathtub and when he carelessly starts pushing his hips against her, at a pace faster than before. Y/n takes her hand from her side and forces it into the small space between them. He throws his head back when the layers of fabric come tightly against him. In nearly instant, Juyeon fucks his hips into the cloth in her palm. 

Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off as she’s determined to see him fall down and rests on her chest. 

“Y/n…” 

She answers in melody. 

“I need to see you come, all undone for me.” 

As the shorts and underwear lie serene on the carpet beside them, her head falls to the edge. Her hand comes to his face and he takes the hem of his pants off as he misses her. Though it aches with impatience, Juyeon’s eyes shimmer in hands, cupped by Y/n. Every motion he does in pleasure, as if handcrafted. It sores from watching him wither above. Y/n nods again, whispers to please see him wilt in cause of her. 

He fills her completely when they come as close as possible. The first thrusts are painfully slow as he edges on relief but desperately wants to feel her warmth. Y/n urges him to fasten the pace as she falls down the wall. He holds his eyes on Y/n like she will save him as he thrusts harder. 

“Please, Y/n, you look so beautiful.” His legs twitch, “I need to see you…” 

His words falter as she cries out for a second time. He slows down in pace, staying amidst the warmth as the high washes over her. On precise edge, Y/n takes her hand onto the material and forces herself off him. Though the pleasure still affects her, she reaches her hand out where it hurts the most. She strokes him just merely. Juyeon’s eyes are closed and he cries from pleasure and wet stains her skin. The sight of him desperately saying her name and convulse in pure bliss might live on for an eternity. He continues with slow motions in her hand, moving the stains up the rest of her hand before the wave falters. 

Juyeon gently descends his head beside hers. The right arm out of the pushing under his weight and he lies it underneath her head. The two of them close their eyes while listening to their breath echo throughout the bathroom. 

Though, as the world comes back into place and Y/n opens her eyes to see the ceiling, she thinks about the windows outside. It goes chills through her essence when she looks at a the ventilator. Juyeon’s breathe are soft on the side of her face and she still console his hair. She desperately wants to lie beside him for as long as time lets them. Turn her face to see his blissful features look back at her own. 

But for every second, reality moves closer. How her escape from above might put him once again in pain. The scene from when Eric put their names on his note comes back to her in a form of a distant but cold wave. 

Fate doesn’t have them, she thinks before sitting up. The change in atmosphere comes suddenly to Juyeon who lifts his upper body when she climbs out the tub, takes on her cloth and goes to the door. 

“Where are you going?” She obscene herself before turning. He sits like she left him and the withered shine in his eyes that yearns for her burns the side of her heart. Y/n puts her other hand on the handle and looks down without a clear expression. 

“I’m really tired.” Her voice is low, putting a further distance. 

“Oh, okay.” Juyeon looks down.

Of course he’s so perfect, she thinks and opens the door wider. To set her feet out before she returns and see his sunken posture, watching the patterns at the bottom of the tub. Y/n bites her lips. 

“Don’t sleep in the bathtub tonight.” She says and Juyeon looks up, giving her a smile reminiscent of the one he always gives her. 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Y/n nods and takes a step out again and shuts the door, not fully closed.

“Thank you.” She says, before at last leaving. 

When the divide amid the handle and frame becomes non-existent and each step of her bare feet recites from the floor back to her, she sees the rising moon in the corner of the window, fade from view as dark clouds pass by. There’s no liquid moonlight cast on the kitchen counter, and the metal in the sink emits no starfall reflection. 

She takes the hand that holds the only visual significance of the scene in the bathroom, and her other hand on the tap. The white stains run off her hand and weave together with the water. She watches the colors of morning gloom after rain, before it all eventually disappears down the drain. Y/n closes the tap, when her hand is left on the metal and she watches the lone drops of water that's left. It feels as if a part of her essence might have gone down with it, leaving her left at the edge of the world. 

Y/n hasn’t stayed in one place since she came down from Olympus for more than a few days. The date of the calendar has passed three days longer than planned, but why does she find this city so astonishingly more beautiful than any other place? She closes her eyes and maybe the ache in her heart will flow down the metal pipes like how she saw. But at last, her hand falls off the tap. 

Maybe hope will win, she thinks. The only thing left to believe in, the only thing that will save the three of them. If she goes to sleep in this state of heart, she hopes for their good life that Juyeon sits in the bathtub yearning for the woman he did a few days ago. She hopes no stems grow through his skin and to, as the love goddess and not Y/n, not see him fall to the floor as the power she rules consumes him from within. 

-

“You’re awake?”

To turn to the opening between two walls and see the table in the middle of it. The sun is already up. Juyeon takes his hand from his back to above his eyes, in the cause of  blinding gray light. 

“Yeah, I-” Juyeon sits up and starts walking out the kitchen. Eric and Y/n sit on either side and he stands beside them and looks down the plates. 

“You cooked?" Did you burn anything?” He asks Eric in which he shakes his head and points at Y/n while his mouth is full. 

“No, Y/n did.” 

As she sits on the opposite end from where he’s looking, Juyeon shifts his vision. The golden brown of the bread leaves trails of grease on the tips of her fingers and when she too looks up at him, scenes from last night pass through his peripheral vision like they tell you at the edge of death. Juyeon looks away before any visual traces will be sighted on his face. And as he scratches his neck, Y/n comes up from the chair and goes to the counter. When he feels the faint touch of her free hand on his back, Juyeon looks over his shoulder and sees the plate in her hand. 

“I did one for you too.” Her hand leans the plate out for him and Juyeon hesitantly takes it, “I tried to remember what you have on it, hopefully I got it right.” Y/n smiles and gets down to her seat once again. 

The vast eyes of his observes her eating before turning down to look at his own plate. How each of the green and red vegetable layers follows the same patterns as he usually does. 

Though, in truth, as he takes a bit of the sandwich, a sort of warmth trails down the sore spot. In one way he just thinks the sleepiness is coming off, but in between all the superficial, in the hidden part of his heart, he wants to fall to his knees and shout that Y/n hasn’t abandoned him. That there is hope left for them. 

“Eric?” Juyeon has hands on his knees. Eyes turn away from the speckles of color running across the concrete. And when they land on the younger sitting beside him, Eric has his towel in his hands, throws it above his shoulder. 

Eric hums and looks at Juyeon. 

He plays football in a building further away when school’s over. Sometimes memories return from that unchanged landscape. The sun wore bleachers and the synthetic grass field that spares its color no matter season. At some point, Juyeon didn’t need to follow him and wait on the bleachers. 

Juyeon came here as the clock reached noon. He took one stop earlier off the bus and walked to the entrance of the building in light blue paint. And Eric sat like he always has done, on the same place four rows above the grass. 

“What’s a good gift to a girl?.” He asks finally. The inner corner of Eric’s eyebrows closes in together as he doesn’t say anything. Simply stares at the one, a row under before his lips curl at its sides and Juyeon throws his face in his palms. 

“Ohhhhh!” 

Eric’s shoulder veiled in damp shirt material comes closer to his own before the younger takes the towel. He turns it in the air so that cold wind comes down on Juyeon. The one with a towel over his head starts swinging it closer and Juyeon doesn’t get to protest before the damp fabric runs across his face. 

“When did you become like this?!” Eric’s eyes, immense as his back falls into a curve to reach down where Juyeon hides. 

“Why am I proud?" Eric asks himself as he puts an arm around the older and lets his head high to once again see the bleachers in the lower end become steeper and the artificially green grass spread from one end to the other. 

“You didn’t answer.” Juyeon scratches the back of his hair, still with his own features a little nearer empty space down the bleachers. 

“What should I give her…a girl?” Juyeon corrects himself. At the end line where the side of the field ends and two planes of the bleachers start, he sees Eric’s feet come into frame and turns towards that direction. The shoelaces have blemishes of black hues and the neon color itself has run with rain water down the drains. Four depressing shades of fabrics in the same motion of how he kicks his feet back and forth, reminiscent of the end leaves of a dying plant. 

“I know it’s Y/n so we can start from there.” Eric answers and leans forward, “So what should you give Y/n?” 

Juyeon sighs again and lets his face in between his hands while falling forward. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.” 

Eric continues to look down on his shoelaces, “I mean, you know her well, you can’t figure out at least one thing?” 

Juyeon shakes his head. 

“No wonder she broke up with you.” He says to himself and the older takes his face up from his hands and stares at him with deadpan. 

“Okay, too soon.” Eric takes up his hands above his head. 

“I don’t know, chocolate, that’s classic. A movie ticket to a romance movie? She’s the god of love – or new clothing, she doesn’t have much clothes.” Eric starts to look up at the high ceiling but jumps one step away on the bleachers as Juyeon stands up and gasps. 

“I know, I– thank you, see you!” 

Eric holds his arm closer to his own body, all while Juyeon jumps down the four rows and disappears along the white edge of the green field. The heavy metal door at the side of the building echoes throughout the empty walls. 

His eyes linger on the cold metal doors. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and not for himself, but for his brother. The slight change in atmosphere in their limited apartment, and the expressions of Juyeon’s face seemed to have cleared with the sky. Truly, Eric thinks, Y/n being a goddess or not, she cast a spell on their life and made him look at the sunset in an angle never perceived before. If she could stay with them, with Juyeon, a little longer, he might actually believe he gets to see flowers bloom in spring. 

Though, ever since he wrote their names on the note and she told him it’s not possible. He looks at his brother, when he melts to his knees and reaches out to touch her. The severe words she uttered that evening. In her otherworldly complexion, there’s a shadow she desperately tried to hide from him that day. Eric knows more than anyone, even more than Juyeon himself, that their  love is inevitable. But a part of him hopes still, that the thing she fears so deeply, is merely a projection, and that if he doesn’t tell Juyeon, the three of them might get what is closest to “forever”. 

As Y/n came to them in the last weeks of December, she noticed the decorations of warm light scattered across every avenue. Eric told her on the bus once that they celebrate the passage of a new turn around the sun. That whole ride until the final glass cubicle, she told questions in which Eric eagerly answered. Juyeon and Eric, promised Y/n to take her to the center city when the sky’s shimmer. 

They’ve walked all three down the street alleys. There’s a light from every restaurant and in the few open balconies and windows, music blasts through the street. She’d never seen so many shoes on the same platform. How it causes ripples in puddles, forces the mall entrance doors to stand open eternally and the constant, city conversations integrate. 

None of them took much down to the festival, Juyeon told her to dress up but there’s not much in her limited closet that would pass as festive attire. While she herself went with the shirt she always wears, it itched in Juyeon’s fingers to give her paper blue bag beside the bed. When down the street she pointed towards it, asked him why he’s carrying a bag. Juyeon took the excuse of wanting an extra scarf and umbrellas with him if it starts raining. 

To chase warmth while running through the open streets. And when the entrance door to the mall directs like curtains, people have gathered for the final scene of the night., Juyeon touches them both lightly. 

“I’ll get us something to eat, we haven’t eaten since lunch.” Juyeon points at a nearby van down one of the streets. It reeks of steam from the window while the person in front fervently switches conversations with the new person next in line. The two nod and Juyeon looks at Y/n while turning half away. 

“Look after Eric, okay!?” 

In the midst of all the burning colors, Y/n takes her eyes off the sky to see the reflection of each spark in people’s eyes. As passionate red fills the sky and scatters a wither of faint glow, Y/n think truly, that she has never felt as alive as now. The upper quarter of the crowd starts to move, she looks in that direction where a concise distance opens up between two jackets. 

That divide of the mass has loosened and the wall of the closest building works as a background to the people passing by that glimpse. Another firework goes off, echoes over the crowded platform. Eric looks up when her hand on his own becomes tighter and the direction of her head is not the sky but the front wall of the mall. He too leans forward to see between the arms of the ones before them, but as he opens his mouth to ask her what’s wrong, Y/n takes an even stronger grasp around his hand. Her own skin forces white spots to appear onto Eric’s and he nearly falls in a man’s chest as she turns. 

“What?!-” Eric shouts as people pull their shoulders closer to their warmth when they run past them. Y/n doesn’t look back, but exchanges attention from the barely patterns of the platforms and Eric’s hand secured in her own. 

“Run Eric!” Y/n tries to overpower the next color that fires off above them.

To escape the borderline of tight bound space and now free view over the imminent skyscrapers and alleys from the center. Y/n’s chest falls desperately, an impending sensation that hurts at the mit of her heart and seeps through the back. As each breath might cut her throat inside and a dye of red stronger than the one above, she takes another step and starts running. 

“What are we running from?!” Eric asks again, but Y/n doesn’t answer. The younger sometimes, when he looks at her face, sees a glimpse of her features when her hair comes behind the side profile. Vast eyes that none of the massive street lights can catch the attention of, and once or twice closes her eyes like it hurts. The strange fright running after them has him desperately coil his fingers with hers, run towards wherever she takes him. As the city flashes them by like a sped up film, they pass a familiar face without even noticing. He calls their names but only Eric looks back. 

“Y/n! It’s Juyeon!” Eric shouts and looks at her. 

“I need to go Eric, I need to go!” She breathlessly answers him. The signs start to fade, only streetlight patterns with distance lines the alley, the rest hidden. Fireworks from the curved celestial become all fainter and she can clearly hear his voice now. 

 “Y/n! Y/n stop!” Her name bears through the street. There’s a few restaurants with closed doors and warm lighting down the high walls. The people inside might see the silhouettes disappearing in an instant before the outer window. 

Juyeon shouts again and runs. The paper bag hits his thigh. Cause of petals in his throat, each shout becomes weaker and soon no air seems to pass them. The lungs inside his chest reach for air but like a cement divide, it seems impossible. Juyeon coughs as he still runs, and hears Eric shouting her name too. At the end of the road where three others meet, Juyeon gets his hands on her shoulder and forces her back towards him. They stop in an instant, and his other hand comes to her shoulder. 

“Y/n!” All three breathe heavily as they stand in a crossing. When the sky burns of color, it might even melt. 

“What happened?” He takes another breath and Y/n takes a step back, but Juyeon forces her feet to return to that place. Her head looks the other direction  so her side profile comes into full view, but his hands go to carry her face. 

“Y/n?” 

“I need to go.” She swallows. Eric takes a step from the two of them, watches how tears edges off her eyes. 

“I need to go, Juyeon.” Her own hand comes to his upper arms as she tries to push him away, but his own only comes closer, embracing her shoulder and back. The white fabric folds against his arms. To never let his sight of hers. 

“Why? Why do you need to go?” He asks gently. 

“It’s my mother, I saw my mother.” Y/n breathe and try to look behind Juyeon’s back before returning, “I’ve stayed for too long, I shouldn't have used my powers.” 

Finally all the water that has accumulated under her eyelashes overflows and a single drop runs down the curve of her cheek. As the tears itself saturate the space beneath her eyes and drown the lashes, all thoughts that would continue to pile up on her mind, reach the high ceiling. Where the last piece of stress bends at the top and eventually the whole tower falls. Tension releases in a second and Y/n feel her body become heavy. 

“I need to go.” She says again in a voice barely above a whisper. To face the rain covered asphalt, the strands of her hair fall before her face. Juyeon holds his arms still in that place they are in. But eventually, he let them fall to her upper arms. When her body is fully in his embrace, Juyeon pulls her closer so her head lands on his shoulder and body against his own. 

“I’ll help you get away.” Juyeon says gently. Though the fragments scratching his throat tightens at the sentence, he takes another breath through the flourished broken part. Let the sharp edges of vines pierce the insides. 

“And Eric will too.” He adds, looks towards the younger. Y/n shifts, then, a meter away stands Eric in a tense position, though, it slowly loosens as she looks at him. The yellow sign behind him, shines from his head like a halo and he gives her that boyish smile like he always does. At that, she gifts one back. 

“But you have to sleep.” She looks back at Juyeon, “We’ll help you out of here in the morning, but you can’t leave tonight.” 

She’s quiet. 

“I promise, your mom won’t find you.” He says sincerely as he looks at her in the eyes. Y/n can’t say anything, instead nods. 

- 

Y/n didn’t sleep. Even when she lied in bed with vision parallel to the turned off lamps above, Juyeon with great delicacy took the spot beside her. She refused to visually trace his face, still when his arm came under her neck and voice fluttered against her ears as he drew her closer. Forced light to divide from her eyes, maybe nothingness would mend the sore. Though, for every change on the minute digit and next firework. Naivety only pushes it bitterly, to grow in the hidden parts of her essence. 

Even at 5 in the morning, when their side of Earth still longs the sun, Juyeon’s hand is placed over her like before. Though, feather-like when he sleeps. His other arm is placed across her chest and at the end of his hand, he holds her upper arm. She turns from the ceiling, down to the side where his face is closest. Only in intimate moments have he been this near, but for the first time she can admire his natural red blemishes and the patterns on lips without Juyeon withdrawing. 

Time may stop for merely a second when she sees him like this, but there's trouble deep within her heart. It consumes butterflies left in her stomach and she reaches out closer to him, kisses him at the ending scene. It’s gentle and fast, contrasting to the cruelly slow ones they shared before. Y/n loosens his arm and climbs out the bed. When she packs all the belongings that can count on two hands, she sits on the floor and looks over towards Eric. The view is incredibly familiar as his arms depend on the bed edge and feet free from the fabrics. 

Y/n smiles before the pocket in the bag closes and she walks towards that side of the room. Her head is on its tilt when she tries to look at his face from the right angle. His mouth is slightly agape when he breathes and carefully Y/n takes her hand to brush his fringe. The covers are halfway over his stomach and Y/n bring it over his chest. As the edge of the stripes ends before his neck, Y/n takes a step back. To look at the room in its grandest form, she feels like bursting into tears. 

At last, she walks out the kitchen floor like an ending scene and comes out the hallway, just like the credit scene. When she reaches down for her shoes, a piercing knock on the door comes through the walls. Y/n stumbles backwards and catches her weight with her arm. She stands completely still while looking up the impending door. Another knock echoes throughout the apartment and this time, Y/n straightens up from the floor and takes the handle. Let the backpack fall to the side. 

When the door opens and the bright light from the stairs burns the dim apartment, her eyes squint. Though, a tall figure in dark clothes creates a shadow. She follows the lines of his clothing and sees his face. An older man with barely no hair, same with his smile. 

“Is this Lee Juyeon’s apartment?” He asks in a monotone voice. 

Y/n’s quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah, he lives here.” 

“Is he here?” 

Y/n falls quiet again. To stare at his face without words, she looks down and sees the mark on the uniform chest. The reflexes on the navy shade and all the layers underneath. Y/n swallows before looking up again. 

“No he’s not.” Y/n says without doubt. The man looks behind her, into the kitchen area for a second. 

“Where is he then?” 

She answers quickly as adrenaline starts rising, “He visited a friend last night after the fireworks, a friend from school.” 

“Do you know where this friend lives?” He asks and Y/n bites her lip. 

“Not completely, he took the bus.” 

“Do you remember the number?” 

“Maybe eight.” She lies. 

The man takes up his phone and types something quick. She still holds the door when he puts it back down in his pocket. 

“Are you aware of the investigation regarding Lee Juyeon?” 

Y/n furrows her eyebrows. 

“No.” 

“He may be in possession of illegal firearms and has used them.” He pauses, “We are also in search of Eric Sohn?””Social services have been called to take him in since he's a minor with a guardian under crime investigation.” 

Y/n stands with her mouth agape. In desperate need to answer him as he looks at her, but words refuse to come out. 

“I understand it’s confusing,” he takes up a notepad and a pen, “But we’re gonna have to ask for your name since you seem to be close with Lee Juyeon and Eric Sohn.” 

Y/n does write her name, incredibly unstable for the age she appears. She looks up at him when she has just written her name, he doesn’t say anything but reads between the glances that a second name in after space should be there too. Y/n quickly adds a surname and gives the note and pen back to the officer. 

“Thank you.” He says, “Is Eric Sohn with Lee juyeon?”

“Yeah.” Y/n nods, “They took the bus together last night.” 

After a few more questions, the officer does finally leave her at the door. She doesn’t close it until his silhouette disappears fully down the stairs. When it finally does and she has stood there long enough for the automatic lights in the ceiling to shut, she does pull the handle close and lean her forehead towards the frame. Y/n closes the lids against the bottom as if it’ll erase the world from her. But when she opens them, the world is still cruelly real and she turns to the kitchen. 

Y/n shakes Eric first, let the covers she adjusted fall down his stomach once again. He lets out a confused sound with eyes still closed. Y/n continues to bother him while speaking. 

“Eric, you need to wake up.” 

Eventually she walks over to Juyeon, grabs arm and shakes his upper body. She repeats his name in usual volume and slowly his eyes come open and his head turns to her. 

“Y/n?” 

“The police were here.” She shakes him still, “You’re under criminal investigation, Juyeon. They’ll take Eric…you’re a criminal, Juyeon.” 

Y/n herself seem to have not fully comprehended the words the officer spoke outside. And as she voices what he told her, it dawns on her chest and her breath becomes heavy. She looks at him weakly when he sits up. The tiredness that lingers after slumber has disappeared and he looks at her with vast eyes and she repeats it to him. 

“Social services will take Eric, you’re under investigation for illegal firearm use.”

Juyeon stares at her for a second before taking the phone off the desk. She takes a step back once the blue light illuminates his face. He clicks into the news sights and at first article at the very start of the site, a video recording from the alley when he fired off the gun. He hits the lamp above them and it ends shortly after the man stands up. He reads the title of the article, “Young man wanted after shooting”. 

She sees the video rewind on his phone as his face turns to Eric on the other side who shifts position. Despite the weight coming down on them in one moment, none of them even stands up or walks out. From today's news, their tomorrow plays out in front of their visions. Like a gloomy movie Juyeon watches how they take Eric, ship him off to somewhere, long outside this city while he himself is stuck in between the same four walls for months on end. 

Y/n herself knows she must take herself out of the city. Sky’s been watching, nothing’s here will save her. But she can’t take her feet to the hallway, bend her arms down to her bag and leave them behind.

“I’m so sorry, Juyeon.” She doesn’t know why she apologizes. After all, it’s not her in a layered uniform who will come between the closed door at dawn and separate the two. But the way his eyes lingers on Eric’s silhouette while the grip on the phone tightens. 

Juyeon suddenly looks up towards Y/n, he stands up and takes her shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Y/n.” 

He walks away to the kitchen, opens the shelves and takes out red packages. Snacks in vibrant colors and then down to the refrigerator where he grabs the plastic bottle of juice. She stays in one place, unable to relocate her essence when the world progresses at a fast pace. Juyeon places the food on the table before he goes to the hallway to take out a backpack. Y/n takes her first step closer to follow his silhouette where she once stood to leave. 

“What are you doing?” She asks when he comes back to the table and lies the cheap plastic in the backpack. 

“We’ll have to move too.” 

She’s quiet for a second, stands with hands against her sides when he goes to the shelfs. 

“Where?” She looks at him. 

“I don’t know, probably where you’re going.” 

His answer causes a wind to force the side edge of the mirror to reflect back onto herself. Her double vision becomes unclear when the thing she focuses on is rather a gloom layer at the far end of the world. Probably Y/n will disappear in the masses of people down the main road complexions before even that fades as she comes all the further from the center metropolitan. When buildings start to lose color and texts graze the sides of parks, she’ll take the bus and let the vehicle take her as far as it can. Where she’ll stand in the vast world when the sun falls down the horizon once again, is like always, a mystery. 

“I’m not leaving Eric.” Juyeon comes back to the table before turning to her. 

“And not you either.”  

-

Before the sun breaks up on the horizon, they were out of the apartment. The sky’s collapsing above them as it rains, reminiscent of melancholy in hearts. Y/n walks beside Juyeon in between high end stores and dares to look up the gray coloration in thick layers. It all reminds her of the first day she saw this city for the first time.

They come to a meeting point where the city's buses pass in rush hour. The weather has worsened, wind from the shoreline comes through the building divides and forces the rain to stand on diagonal. They force their heads down and in need of perception, they peek through the strands. With all the other lights and reflections, they see neon green stripes of guards around the platform. The central station has just a few white stripes on the asphalt before them. 

To let one of the glass structures hold the rain above, Eric and Y/n take their hoods off and let the water that has accumulated run down their backs. Y/n looks to the left to see a woman in the inner corner of the booth. She shifts her feet as it reeks and scatters of cigarettes. 

“You didn’t have another jacket?” Eric looks at Juyeon who hesitantly takes his hand up the edge of his hood. 

“It’s the only one that is waterproof.” 

Eric sighs, “If they come up to us, it’s your fault.” He points at the officers the other booth away. 

“I’m sure those two, specifically, don't look for us.”  Juyeon emphasis. 

Y/n lean over to hold her finger before her lips. They look at her with immense eyes and eyebrows knitted together. In response, she tilts her head in constant pattern, back towards the woman behind, she’s on her own phone, but both Juyeon and Eric get the hint. Eric turns to the open rectangle staring out into the rain that has started to take on forms of snow. 

As another bus pass them and it’s only seven minutes until theirs come, the officers has come out the booth and started patrolling this line. Their uniforms in neon details shines clearly through the snow. And as they come closer, each of them become stale in their soaked clothing, feeling each water drop plummet against the ground. 

“Just be natural.” Juyeon says in low volume while hitting them gently with his elbow. 

The two officers come before the transparency. The three of them hold their heads in other directions, only daring a look in between time through side eyeing. The two have stopped talking, topics seem to have run dry and they come closer to the death of afternoon. The officer closest to them passes his eyes over the glass. Juyeon holds his breath tightly and looks up at the screen in orange outlines showing another minute. At last, none of them cease dividing puddles as they continue down the platform. 

The three of them fall with their backs onto the glass. Y/n turns to see the silhouette linger. But as she prepares to look away, Y/n tears her eyes off immediately, as they glimpse through the thick rain and stained glass. When a half minute has gone by, she dares to seek that side again, the two officers are static on that spot. 

Y/n budge Juyeon with her elbow, but he only faces the back side of her head. He follows where he thinks her sight lines and sees the two officers turn to look at their booth. The two of them look away and Juyeon brings Eric closer to his side. 

Eventually the two officers walked back to them, letting the glass divide two sides. The woman beside them looks towards the opening to see the police seek inside, but she quickly turns back to her screen. 

“Waiting for the bus?” The one to the right asks. 

“Yeah.” Juyeon nods.

“Did it work paying for tickets? We’ve been getting complaints all day that the machine is struggling.” 

“Yeah, we used the app.” He answers quickly. 

There’s silence. 

The police breathe in, “We’ve gotten a report of suspicion against you three.”“There’s a case of a young man potentially on the run, he has a younger brother of sorts and a female friend.” He pauses, “It’s a serious errand, I would want to ask for your names.” 

Eric looks up at Juyeon, then down into the ground, Y/n herself side eyes him too. 

“Kim Joonwoo.” Juyeon says after a passage of silence. 

They look down at Eric. 

“Max Sohn.” 

Y/n too lies. 

The two officers look skeptical at the three of them. Then their eyes lock with each other and one of them tilts their head further out the rain before disappearing. 

“We want you guys to wait for a minute, we’ll just have to check in.” 

The other stands in the rain with their back against them. His hand comes out the pocket as he holds a phone to his ear. 

Juyeon bites his lip. The one standing against the booth frame has taken out his phone and stares at the screen. Juyeon looks towards Y/n and budges her arm with his own. Y/n dares to look at him and they lock eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but points his head towards teh space where the last officer stood. She knits her eyebrows at first, leans harder against the glass pane when he eagerly opens his eyes and points with his head in that direction. Finally he looks over the two officers and sees none of them at concentration, he takes his lips closer to her hair. 

“When I take your hand, we’ll run, okay?” Juyeon falls back. The little space created heats of whispers in cold rain. Y/n nods as Juyeon turns to Eric and whispers the same words. 

Her heart races behind the synthetic fibers of the coat. Out in the rain, the officer guides his hand away and let the phone come before his face. At that moment, before he hangs up on the caller, a cold grip on her own soaked fingers runs through her. She already had her heel on the glass divide and push from it in a second. Eric accidentally falls against the other police when he runs out their back silhouettes dim out the rain, directed towards the street up the city. 

One officer shouts at them which takes the attention of the other and in a span of less than seven seconds all five are aiming at that street. Juyeon holds their hand desperately in his own as the asphalt end seem to decline in streetlights, in compassion to the escape.

- 

“I’m hungry.” Eric sits on the edge of the bed. How the perfect surface of the silk white sheets forms lines in which he sits. There’s only one bed, or two thinner, long sides against each other. Y/n lets her bag onto the floor two meters after the hotel door. There is no scent in the room, if she concentrates and lifts her chin higher, maybe there’s a hint of chlorine. 

“We all ate before going.” Juyeon throws himself onto the other side. 

“Yeah, but I’m still growing.” Eric complains and falls in parallel to Juyeon. 

“You don’t.” Juyeon smiles while looking at the ceiling before his head falls to the side in which the both of them share. Eric too lets his eyes wither from the spotlight shine and turn to the subject in which he falls onto. 

“Ha, really funny.” Eric deadpans, takes the pillow that’s half a meter from his head. When he holds the pillow in the air, gravity takes it down to the mattress in which Eric aims towards Juyeon. The older one takes his own elbow as a protective hold before his eyes. Sounds of laughter erupt from that side of the room as Eric goes onto knees to hit Juyeon fervently. 

Y/n stands in parallel to the mirror before the bathroom. For the first time she smiles in what feels like years. The sheet edges loosens from the mattress when Juyeon only vaguely tries to protect his body from the hits. Even then, his elbow comes back down to its side. Only closes his eyelids when the pillow comes close and the smile, only Eric gifts to see, never falters. 

A surreal wind goes through the walls, fills the hotel room. It struck her again, in her heart. Human time slows down and despite having a window right before her, that world disappears at the edge of the observable horizon. As the pillow in Eric’s hand falter and comes to lie in his lap, Y/n goes to Juyeon’s bag, opens the zipper and takes out a plastic packaging of a white cream bread. To come up to the bed herself and cross her legs at the end of Juyeon’s feet and diagonally towards Eric, she gives him the bread. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/n.” Eric takes it and opens the sealed edge. 

“You’re seriously giving him?” Juyeon takes only his head up from the mattress which forces his voice to come out strained. 

“Yeah?” Y/n smiles and looks at him. 

“He should only get a reward if he has done something good.” Juyeon falls back. 

“He has.” She insists. 

“Like what?” 

“Shut you up.” 

Eric laughs and hits the surface of the bed with his free hand. Y/n too smiles at her own comment and the two of them bring their hands to a high five. While the laughs lingers in between the divide of the bed Juyeon shifts onto his stomach and falls flat with his head against the fabric.

When they arrived with the bus at the outer corner of the city, it was already dark. They ran until street signs were rare and seeked for their conservation behind a karaoke bar down the crowded street. At the backside of the building with all bins of alcohol cans and empty plastic bags, they sat between the black synthetics. It rained still, they balanced on their feet even when they had sat there for 20 minutes. At last, Juyeon spoke for the first time since the shout to run behind the corner. After, they took the bus on a lonely waiting platform with no screen on the bus times, just a worn down time table underneath the name. 

No one else beside them and a man, two seats before, sat on the bus. And even the man walked off two stops before them as they sat on those demishined seats for as long as the ride let them. When the last stop got called through the speakers, they walked off back into the rain and the sun had fallen. Only those usual lights on row down the street were there to guide. At last when their feet were sore from escaping and minds had become numb from all the oversaturation they came to a hotel in gloom. 

They couldn’t tell if it was because of the dark or the hotel building simply hadn’t been renovated since it first came to fruition on this street. Either way, three of the eight letters before the entrance didn’t work. 

After barely an hour after closing the door to their small room in which Juyeon used his extra money for, they took on other clothes and went to lie in bed. Eric’s closest to the window, Y/n in the divide where the two beds leave a limited gap and Juyeon thereafter. She feels slightly stale when in between the two of them, but it loosens off quickly when Eric starts talking about stories from when he was younger and what he and his friends did the month ago. The two older listens as his words become incomprehensible in sleep.

Suddenly it's just the two of them again. Y/n’s quiet when Juyeon starts coughing a little, he takes his arm up to his mouth and she turns their shared side to see him caress the underside of his throat. When they were running from the officers and jumped behind the back alley, Juyeon too reached deeply for air and desperately seemed to mute his coughs while waiting. She blinks a few times while still staring at him, before speaking. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” Only a mere part of all the worries and guilt in her heart.

“Yeah.” He coughs once more before guiding his arm underneath his head, “Just a little sick I think.” He smiles and scratches his hair, “The rain was really cold.” 

His voice only reaches the span of the closest two pillows when he takes his hands underneath his chin and turns to the side, “I think I need a hug.” 

Y/n squints her eyes and looks at his smile before whispering, “Really? "Right now?” 

Juyeon’s request when in a strange bed while his face circulates rounds on the internet, it feels rather inappropriate in her book. Though, she laughs as the fringe falls diagonally over his vast eyes. There’s a point in pearl essence when he looks at her in which she has no choice but to reach for his face. The same echoing words in the back of her mind as the night they spent together in each other's arms comes back. It taunts her to divide space in between them. But even when not only this Earth, but the universe, chases them, she still finds her soul melting of tenderness when he looks at her. 

“You are a bit cold.” She smiles and caresses his head. 

Juyeon hums and closes his eyes, shifts his head on the pillow before bringing himself closer. His head comes underneath her chin as her arms closer around him and his breath comes against her chest. 

For every touch of her hand against his essence, and each time her warmth pulsates out of her veins and spreads across his own, he can feel the ways in his throat become choked. Ribbons with sharp edges tightens around his heart. He closes his eyes painfully, forces his head closer to her chest, as if to merge with her, the pain will cease. All the world’s seems to desperately stand in his way, he thinks in this rain drowned night. He can’t look forward to the morning. When any road can take him there, he closes his eyes and wishes to remember this moment, her arms, her presence, even in death. The green plantations in between the frozen cracks might grow from this weather, and so do the lilac petals in his heart. 

- 

There’s a sharp edge of yellow light. It cuts through the dark room in a single divide and traces up the floor to her face where it climbs up the wall. Y/n opens her eyes just so that a liminal shade of the outer world can be conceived. The light comes from the open bathroom door diagonally from her. As hands spread across the pillow behind her to let the weight off the mattress, Y/n hears violent dry coughing coming from the gap. 

She looks to the left where the side of the window stands, Eric still sleeps. Juyeon’s pillow has creases left of him and the sheet is folded from where he left. Another severe cough occurs from that room and Y/n folds the fabric once more as the warmth accumulated underneath, lowers in degrees while free. Gently while rubbing her eyes with her left hand, Y/n takes the other on the frame while adjusting her eyes to the light. 

“Juyeon?” 

He depends on the sink with his hands. Upper body leaned forward over the crater while his back replicates the harsh sounds coming from his throat. Y/n tilts her head to see his face, but neither standard vision or mirror angle contravene her fear. The cough brutally tears on the insides of his throat, it too causes delusive discomfort in her own body. 

His back straightens suddenly and Juyeon turns his head over. She stays in continued silence as he looks at her with eyes of liquid layers and redness underneath. He takes his arm up to his mouth to cough again before he takes a step closer and directs his body to come in between the bounded space of frame and body. 

“I’m okay.” He says hastily without making eye contact. 

Y/n follows the sight of his back silhouette returning into the hotel room. She lets go of the door frame, takes a single step to the sink. A dead garden with only traces left, deep lilac petals. It decorates the sink by erratic trails from the mit where water comes down. The air in her own chest twined amidst two ways. In contrast to the exhausted motions from the bathroom, she forces the door up even wider until it hits the other wall. Juyeon with arms against the mirror at the bed end, and she rushes towards him. 

“Juyeon!” With her hands on his shoulders, she pulls him closer to turn him in a direction to let his front face hers. But he stubbornly leans heavier against the mirror and only his left shoulder comes two centimeters closer before returning back. 

“Juyeon!” Her voice is loud in a room compressed beside ten others at the end of the city. She refuses to close her eyes when he coughs again and eventually, they plummet to the ground when he can’t bear the flowers rotting his body. Juyeon's face hides before the carpet. 

Y/n sinks to her knees, takes one hand under his chin and the other at the back of his head. To force his face up from the floor and see lilac vibrancy in gloom consume his features. A single petal falls from the end of his lips down to her thigh. Now when it traces her essence, she feels so cruel for being optimistic. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The hand on his hair comes to his cheek where she touches the red coloration with her thumb. Let the gentle pressure create white patterns before it returns to that color. 

“I- '' Juyeon coughs again and Y/n takes her other arm on his shoulder when he comes down to her lap. His hair scattered across her legs and the ceiling above him withers in view. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n repeats in which he looks remorsefully up at her from her embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” 

Tears threaten at the borderline under her eyes. Y/n shakes her head and reaches for the backpack behind her. This entire life, she wished to still be holy, but she realizes she might never be, when one grip the arrow. She holds it in her right hand, above his fragile heart. Juyeon’s eyes widen as the sharp knife aims at his vulnerable. He takes her wrist from below and speaks through the petals. 

“What are you doing?” He coughs. 

“I need to save you, Juyeon!” Y/n holds against him with her own strength. 

Her voice becomes softer, “It won’t hurt, Juyeon, I would never hurt you.” The single tear comes off her eye and falls onto his cheek. He pity her so deeply. But he wishes to be destroyed, eradicated by fate, if only he follows her for an eternity. 

“I-I don’t want to.” His voice is sore when he speaks and she shakes her head. 

“You’re gonna die, Juyeon.” She weighs down the arrow even harder, “I can’t let you die.” 

Shift of fabrics comes from the bed above them. Juyeon closes his eyes. Even in no visual presence he feels her raging strength extraordinarily work against him. A single glimpse into the future and his heart aches, maybe even more than the tearing in his throat. He doesn’t know where the second arrow will land after she strikes him, but he might as well be buried six feet under if it’s because of her. 

“I love you, Y/n.” He breathes heavily while his eyes lie underneath their lids. Y/n takes his shoulder with her other hand, shakes him fervently, 

“Juyeon!” 

“I just want to hear you…” He whispers and Y/n forces her eyes close when the tears run down her skin. The grip on the arrow becomes weak from both directions as she leans her face on his chest. Y/n shakes her head because fate betrayed her, gruesome and vengefully again. 

There’s faintly rain shatter. The dark gray clouds can be seen from this angle but one can only insinuate the existence of a cityscape at the end of the frame. Each of the droplets running down against the glass becomes further precise. He traces the outline of one of them, like his youth, following its tail to the very end where it shatters into pieces. 

“He’s awake!” 

A voice that echoes in the strange room, it shares the same stardust as his. He turns from the window and the yellow shine from spotlight sources blinds him. Juyeon squints his eyes as his head comes flat against the hard pillow and a silhouette covers the light in the ceiling. 

“Juyeon?” His voice is delicate, softer than in his memories. He knits his eyebrows and answers the one above him. 

“Yeah?” 

It’s only a word, pronounced sore and lost, but either way, it creates a smile on the boy above. As if too fragile to touch, he reaches his hand down to his shoulder and shakes him gently. 

“It’s Eric!” He smiles still. 

Juyeon still squints his eyes, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Juyeon?” 

The door from the other end of the room opens. There’s a wall before, in which two hands hold it while someone peaks through. A doctor comes before her, stands a meter behind Eric while the girl who spoke his name closes in. 

Another second passes before he speaks her name. His hand comes down to his chest and he rises from the bed just a little. The girl walks from the spot at the very end of his feet to the opposite side of Eric. She holds both her hands before her front and leans down to him. He feels cold off her body as if been in the rain he just chased. She holds his shoulders while her head rests beside his. Juyeon closes his eyes and embraces her too. 

“I was so worried.” She speaks quietly, so that each breath reaches his ear. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.” He answers whilst hugging her tighter. 

-

On the day Juyeon woke up at the hospital, she had ran to the bus platform in harsh rain after she got the hurried call from Eric that he was in sleep. Y/n only gave him a few hours to accept how she had altered fate, stand beside them in the yellow room whilst the past became forgotten. Juyeon, after waking up, went to the police station, he was on probation for a month, because of illegal firearm use but they did acknowledge self defense and past of no criminal records. Eric lived with Juyeon’s girlfriend at that time. 

When visiting him while on probation nearly everyday after school, Eric told him the weeks leading up to the blackout. All while his brother returned to true state, Eric felt inexpressibly alone after walking home. How he lives in the ruins where no one goes. 

Since that day, at the hotel where he nearly saw Juyeon die, Eric apologizes a lot for not being present. He wants to tell them that he lives in dreams, and put himself there because her name will never be forgotten. Instead he’s forced to tell the people that there was no Y/n, no love service, no magic, just an accident as Juyeon had gotten a gun curiously, used it to defend himself when a stranger was attacked in an alley. The rest of the story after new years stays, but without Y/n. He doesn’t know how she did it, but even the name of the friend the police got that morning after new years is not hers, but a friend of Juyeon’s. 

Now when it’s the end of spring and the edge of summer, he lives with Juyeon again. They meet up with his girlfriend often after Juyeon’s work. In two days, he’ll pass the school entrance for the last time, and think back, on a summer day in the near future. But as he lies in bed at night, he can’t help mourn the loss of that endless winter. Y/n told him that those moments will wither, not feel as intensely as they once did. But he’s still there. 

Eric comes home the next day after being out with his friends after school. Juyeon should be home, he thinks, as he’s nowhere to be seen when in the hallway. To see the sofa in the living room but sounds of struggle comes from a half open door opposite the balcony. There’s no sounds from Eric when walks with only his socks into his bedroom. Eric tilts head to see Juyeon’s back in his closet. 

“Why are you in my room?” Eric asks and Juyeon looks up from the floor. 

“Your closet door is a bit loose.” He pushes the black slide, “It’s soon done.” Juyeon smiles. 

Eric nods but doesn’t take away his vision from that corner as a black box sits beside Juyeon. The lid’s off the edge by a centimeter. Eric comes in and lays the bag at the frame before weighing down on the bed edge. Juyeon has laid down the working material and looks at the black box. Eric straightens his posture when he takes it in his hands. 

“I’m just curious, I didn’t mean to be nosy, but why do you have this dress?” Juyeon takes off the lid and angles the rectangular frame to showcase its inside. The dress in light blue color, detailed with white lace, is delicately folded so that the square neckline lies in center of the box. Eric bites his lip, hands on his thighs and touches them up and down the cotton fabric. There’s silence for a moment and Juyeon observes the younger’s expression when no words come out. 

“Eric?” He let the box down to his lap. 

“It’s yours.” He says and finally looks at him. 

Juyeon tilts his head.

“Mine?” 

Eric nods, “You bought it as a gift, you were supposed to give it to her on New Years.” 

Juyeon asks if he means his girlfriend and Eric shakes his head, looks down again. The fingers of his right hand start scratching against the left. A thin layer of skin loosens from the nail binding. He bites his lip again and thinks of all the lone mind echoes. 

Eric hasn’t seen Y/n since the day at the hospital. When Juyeon and his girlfriend started talking down in the room, Eric silently escaped and walked around the different floors with stairs in between. There was a door on the highest floor to an outside platform. Eric stood there, feeling a great sense of compassion for the Earth-like-tears. When it felt like everything might have been a dream, Y/n called his name. 

To come into her embrace and affirm she’s real. Though, Y/n told him before leaving that her existence is now not a valid part of Juyeon’s world. That there’s just the two. That she promises he’ll not be left at the threshold of two worlds, that this moment in each other's arms isn’t the last. But winter will soon end, and he must accept how the flowers will forget about snow once it is replaced. 

Eric breathes, “It’s Y/n.” He finally admits, still looking down. 

Juyeon knit his eyebrows, “Y/n?” 

Eric nods and a faint smile comes on his lips, “The one you saved, with the gun was Y/n. She lived with us at the end of December and you told me you loved her. You wanted to ask her out at New Years but you never got the time, because then the police searched for you.” 

Juyeon listens quietly, opens his mouth but none come to flourish. Instead he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t told that.” He says hurt. 

“She told me not to tell you.” 

“But the police, the doctors…” He names the people who have affirmed fiction. 

Eric starts swinging his feet and smiles again, “It sounds stupid, but Y/n’s not a human.” 

Juyeon raises one eyebrow. 

“She’s a goddess, you fell in love with the love goddess, and she, in you.” 

-

Juyeon didn’t believe Eric. The younger stubbornly chased after him when Juyeon simply told him, “That’s ridiculous”. To run around every corner of the apartment, even into Juyeon’s room where Eric lied down beside him and reiterated. When Juyeon still persisted, Eric sighed and went up from the bed and out of Juyeon’s room. Went to his own, before coming back with his phone.

“Look, here she is.” 

Juyeon turns to Eric’s screen and sees a selfie, presumably he himself has taken of Eric, himself and a girl at the very end. Juyeon’s own phone falls to his stomach and he leans closer to see the picture. 

“When’s this?” He asks. 

“This winter, in our old apartment.” 

Eric scrolls to the next photo which is taken at the store, when they tried out angel outfits. The photo is clearly centered on Eric in his small wings, but Y/n can be seen to the right laughing in her own costume. 

“This one’s good.” Eric laughs and scrolls to the next photo in which Y/n holds the pink box on the platform with Juyeon beside her. He throws an awkward peace sign up with half his hair in his face. 

“I don’t remember this.” Juyeon tilts with a half smile and takes the phone from Eric’s hand. The younger one comes down fully on the shared pillow as they go through the pictures from that winter. 

“She’s the one you wanted to give the dress to.” Eric says eventually. 

“Have you met her since?” Juyeon asks at the last picture of them at new year’s. 

Eric shakes his head, “No,” He sighs, “She told me that her mother had found her and that she was only allowed a quick visit to meet me.” 

Juyeon nods. As if looking at another life when reversing the pictures. But her face, always in the captured stills from the past, insists a dime of all his sensibilities to tell him he cares. Even as the day passes, her face lives like cathedral windows before him. 

-

The moon, lifeless, in shine hanging above the sleeping Earth. It’s been dark for a couple of hours. The sun stays above the city line a second longer for each day that passes. 

When no one’s there to verify one's existence, the glass door to the balcony opens. No heavy wind passes through the city streets during this weather, but nonetheless she closes the door back to its frame before taking silent steps against the floor. The shoe material at the tip of her toes makes a pitched sound. Those steps come closer to the left door of two at one wall. 

To bring her hand out to the handle without any weight. She lets the shine melt into her own essence before gently forcing it down. Between that space is his room, she stands there for a second to finally see it in all three dimensions. At last, when her eyes trail down the wall details and reach him beneath the soft fabrics. His mere existence is extremely poetic. 

He reminds her of the present fragile complexity. How human he makes her feel, she thinks. She brings her hand up to her chest, above the spot of her clothing where underneath all the layers, one can sense the quick pulses. Eventually, she takes a step over the borderline, his features in pale moonlight become all clearer. When he’s so close to her, she hesitantly takes out her hand. 

His delicate skin is underneath her fingertips, slowly she pulls them back to her own side. Instead, sits down on the left space beside his hip. The bed sheets crinkles when her weight changes the patterns of the creases. She tilts her head. As if there’s a field drawing them towards each other, she leans over his chest and her face comes as close as it can. 

At this mere distance, each of his breath lingers. She had been dying to hear his voice and see his face, but truly her heart aches in bliss when his scent touches her face. It forces her to open closed off memories, may be sun bleached and dust, but it warms her human heart, as a part of him she had forgotten, returns to her. Her hand comes to the side of his pillow as she leans forward. He shifts his head and the beautiful hair scatters in new patterns. That peaceful sensation lasts, until the motions of his head spreads to his eyes and they slowly open. 

She immediately backs away, the hand returns to her lap and the sudden motion causes an effect on the rest of the bed. There’s a new emotion in her heart as he forces himself off the mattress and rubs his eye. She is still there, at the edge of his bed, when he looks at her with tired eyes. She wishes for him to fall right back onto the pillow, but he doesn’t, instead he continues to stare at her while the exhaustion from sleep disappears. 

She finally stands up from the bed. He looks up at her and trails after when she rushes out of the room. Juyeon is left with his hands on the mattress, blinking a few times, agape his lips. 

The person on the bed was a visit from a past life. He nearly wonders if the pictures on Eric’s phone he's been thinking about, might have started haunting him. But there’s a pattern left on the spot where she sat, a real world consequence of her existence. 

Juyeon takes the sheets off his body and walks up to the door. The silhouette stands at the outer edge. The glass is against the other wall and her lower body is covered by patterns of metal as she stands with her back against the free fall. A night wind from the moon comes through the open door and touches his warm body. It filtrates the thin fabric of his sleepwear and he takes another step forward. As her right feet disappear beneath the balcony floor, Juyeon speaks. 

“Wait!” 

The moonlight shines behind her when she turns her eyes from beneath. 

He opens mouth and walks closer, “You’re Y/n, right?” 

Juyeon takes his right leg higher to pass the doorstep elevation before the cold hard floor of the balcony. She’s leaning with both her hands on the railing which causes her to come in greater height than Juyeon. With still a meter between them, Juyeon looks up to her and asks again. 

“You’re Y/n?” 

The scene is rather overwhelming for her. Only in imagination has she continued seeing those moon made eyes and voice that causes spring to reach the very isolated, cold corners of her heart. None of the human vocabularies she has learned feels acceptable to answer him with, none withstand the level of adoration her heart feels. So at last, to open up to conversation with him one more time, Y/n nods her head. 

As she blinks, the nods become faster, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

For the first time, after a season, she sees him smile again, “Hi, Y/n.”

She breathes out and smiles too, “Hi, Juyeon.” Though, she tilts her head and observes the highlights caused from the moon on his face. 

“How do you know my name?”

A wind passes them, “Eric told me.” He breathes, “He told me you were a goddess, that you saved my life that day when the police came.” 

Y/n looks down for a second, still smiling, “Eric couldn’t keep it in, right?” 

“He’s pretty indiscreet. Though I guess you already know that?” 

Y/n nods.

There’s a passage of silence while a car drives down the street below them. Juyeon hasn’t taken his eyes off her for even a second, trying to place where in his heart she occupied space and if, when they stand together again, the doors will open again for her. 

“Where were you?” He asks which makes Y/n look at him again, “All of spring?” 

“With my mother.” She nods slowly, “I’m receiving my punishment…” Y/n looks down before smiling. Yet, she looks as if forced to improvise, he thinks“...I’m allowed to visit Earth more often though, I have an apartment here now.” She pauses, “So I’m at least free from that place.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, “Punishment?” 

“I escaped Olympus, I interfered a lot with human relationships…” She nods with ocean-heavy-eyes, “My mother was pretty angry.” 

Juyeon listens attentively when Y/n trails her eyes away and picks at her fingers. 

“You don’t remember, but I did fall in love with you back then. Changed your fate from the disease which I shouldn't have.” She looks down, the smile has slowly vanished with the wind, “So I am forever destined to love you unrequited.” She says as if turning home. 

The last sentence falling from her lips, causes a permanent block in whatever way was left in his heart. Like winter comes back in a second, deep frost structures his cathedral heart. 

“Unrequited?” He repeats. 

Y/n nods, “I will never be able to love anyone else. And you, will never love me.” 

Juyeon blinks, “Don’t you have powers?”

Y/n smiles again, laughs a little as she takes an arrow from behind her back. For the first time since he saw her eyes, something else falls in center. The sharp edge shines off the left side from the silver light. He realizes as he looks at it, that it is the same edge that must have struck him. 

“I’ll die if I use it and the same on you.” Y/n takes the sharp end against his arm. Juyeon brings it closer to his chest as the edge makes a white mark on his skin before it springs back in color. Y/n lowers her head and the arrow disappears behind her back, as mysteriously as it came. 

Juyeon looks at his arm. There’s nothing equivalent in words to describe the slow paced swan song that runs through his veins. But somehow he sees the dejection at the tips of her lips and it shares like grief in his heart. He doesn’t know why, but at last he speaks those words that die to come out in the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n tilts her head, laughs softly before speaking, “Why are you apologizing?” 

“I don’t know.” Juyeon scratches the back of his head, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you to love alone.” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Even if you didn’t forget me and everything else, my love would have outlived you by a hundred years.” She pauses and looks at him, like described out of a mythology, “Our love was never destined to be forever.” 

Despite standing before each other once again, there’s an undeniable distance. Y/n ‘s heart that desperately longs for Juyeon’s, but there is no lost place. There’s no use in trying. The universe has created an eternal absence, pulling them miles apart even when they’re here, at the same time in the same place. How tragically, he thinks. 

“But…I wasn’t punished?” Juyeon knits his eyebrows. 

“I mean, kind of.” Y/n says gently, “Though, not in the way I am.” 

“But I don’t understand, what was my punishment?” 

“Guilt.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Guilt?” 

She smiles weakly, “Cause you’re a good person, Juyeon.” And it slowly fades, “Only good people die with guilt.” 

He looks down onto the cold floor of the balcony. There’s tragedy in marrow, cruelly hurts  when she thinks of the eternity waiting for her. How the adoration for him will simply not mature. How her heart will search for him, far and wide, even when he’s no longer here. 

Y/n swallows, “Anyways,” She shakes her head to let a strand fall beside her face. Her voice tears Juyeon’s eyes up from the floor, “You told me before I saved you…” She pauses to let another wind pass them by. 

“...that you loved me. But I never said it back.” 

Y/n looks down from the railing, locks eyes again. She reaches deep within, to find maybe even a fragment of him that will remember those words. 

“So I want to tell you that I love you too, Juyeon. Not because I’m punished to, but because you loved in a way no one else has done.” She breathes out, “I didn’t quite understand love back then, I couldn’t understand humans,” She smiles weakly, “even when I wanted to save you and you said no, I couldn’t grip my head around why you didn’t want to be saved.” He looks at the goddess with vast eyes when the moonlight is at its brightest behind her. 

“But now, when I’m forever punished loving you, I still think that I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says, “I want to love sincerely even when you don’t love me.” 

The lips of his mouth form a faint gape. The reflection of the moon in the left center pupil fades and returns like it's pulsing. He waits for a spark, a falling star or even a firework, but the night stands as still as it always does. Though, with the sincere words she gives him, he wishes there’s a part in his heart that receives it, that can fully comprehend the words she so gently tells him. 

Another car passes by and Y/n looks down the detailed street in lights. Her hand comes up before making a sound on the metal railing. 

“Well, I think that was all.” The smile she gives him comes as if perfectly out of the photo on Eric’s phone, “Thank you, Juyeon. I’ll protect you and Eric from the bad things, you've been through enough.” She once again takes a foot down the balcony.

“Wait-” 

Y/n looks up as he pushes the glass door open again and disappears into the room. Still halfway down, Y/n tries to perceive his shadow behind the frame. Only struggles of doors and paper can be heard from her distance, but at last, Juyeon comes out again. He holds a black paper box with his two hands. 

“I don’t remember, but Eric told me I wanted to give this to you on New Year’s, but I never got the chance to.” 

Y/n comes up again, reaches her hands out but hesitantly takes them back a centimeter. Juyeon smiles delicately and pushes the box closer to her. To open the lid, he sees her  expression fade into brilliance. As if sunrise has come above the horizon, he tilts his head and smiles too. The distance destined between them refuses to let him fully comprehend the gift, but truthfully when she lifts it up, a pure bliss rushes through him. 

“You brought it?” Y/n holds the top part of the dress as those burnt memories return.

“Apparently,” He smiles. 

As she pulls the fabric a bit higher, a piece of paper reveals itself underneath. Y/n takes her other hand and folds open the letter. 

Happy New Year’s, Y/n! 

You looked really pretty in that dress so I wanted to give it to you. If I ask you out now, I hope you will wear it. 

Love, Juyeon

She reads it over and over until it means visually nothing and ocean edges on her eyes. The choir of lovers that sing in her lone marrow, how each word tears at her strings deeply, “Thank you, Juyeon, thank you.” They shine as she looks back up. 

She puts the letter into the box again and closes the lid. 

“I’ll treasure it forever, I promise. “ 

He smiles because she now knows it wasn’t always unrequited. That the mourn and loss wasn’t all for nothing. Though, still in melancholy cause he can’t help her like she saved him. Amidst everything in silence, Juyeon’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Eric’s graduation is tomorrow,""do you want to come?” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. 

“Of course.” He smiles, “I think he missed you.” 

At those words, she finally nods, embraces the box a bit closer, “Then, I’ll come!” 

“Great, meet me on this street at ten tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/n nods and takes a step down. 

“I think you should use the stairs.” Juyeon leans over the railing. 

“Oh, right.” 

“Eric!” 

He turns when his name, pronounced deja vu inducing extreme, trails the high ceiling. The friends in circle stops talking and almost instantly, he recognizes her silhouette, that can overthrow the world, in the crowd. 

“Y/n!” The paper in his hands withers off when he meets her halfway there. She closes her eyes when he’s under her arms again. The black suit he has on scratches against her arms. Y/n tells him he’s the most handsome she has ever seen him. She ruffles his head when they let go. Eric would have sulked but couldn't when he had missed her so deeply. 

Juyeon came up too and soon after his girlfriend walked through the entrance. Y/n, though, struck her heart that night after Juyeon, didn’t have a chance to see her. As she stood real before her, she smiled fondly and introduced herself. Her tender heart, molten because of the lovers. Though as the two turn to walk down the entrance, and their traces leave Eric Y/n, her cursed soul starts to mourn. 

She thinks; if I told you my world stopped when I saw you. You wouldn’t have believed me. You should have known by then that the heaven’s lies in my palms and when you said my name, angels heard it echo. 

They say nothing truly disappears, that it just changes. Then, she hopes that if she shouts his name into the black void, it’ll come back to him as an echo. That if she believes in love, help people over the street, pet cats and water her plants, that all that love will reach him someday, in some form. 

She hopes, if she lives on, worshiped in history, that if her name gets spoken in the far future, his will too. When we believe there’s nothing left to be made holy, she sincerely begs to tell this tale, to any lovers, that’s left alive. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/n : that self conscious part of me thinks no one will make it down here, but if you did, thank you!

tagging : @from-izzy

[hoe4rairai]

《 ♤ Scenario 3 ♤ 》

Shivering S/O in a cold night, Raian being considerably gentle and mindful or NOT 😈

〰️ Let's Gooooooo 〰️

🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️

This is unorthodox Raian version ...

S/O is a hit woman. Both sometimes merge missions together, though Raian hates to be with her on missions. She has the power to distract the assassin. The only human who has that power . S/O is a fun sized girl whom he enjoys manhandling, and she loves it when he does.

A mission was assigned to them, both finished their part but something complicated their exit, and they were stuck in the lower deck of the corrupted millionaire yacht where they assassinated him and his entire crew. No electricity, it was one of those cold winter nights. The deck was cold and pitch black, Raian's vision is as sharp as a wolf in the dark but that's given being a kure, S/O settled next to her boyfriend's massive body frame. The cold started to creep up on her, and her teeth started chattering. She thought Raian was in a hibernating mode since his breathing is very steady and low, and that also is a kure survival technique. She moved closer, almost squeezing herself into him. She is cold, and he has a deep heat body machine. He didn't budge a muscle and she is trying to find any source of warmth to keep her going till the clan sends a rescue to pick them up, they are literally in the middle of the ocean.

A few hours passed, and she probably fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, she was positioned like a baby between his arms. Her head was resting on one arm , face snuggled between his arm and chest, legs curled up , his arms around her to offer her some more warmth.

They heard noises coming from the upper deck of the yacht.Raian and the rescue team usually have a sign code they communicate with. These ppl aren't them. Raian gestured to keep quiet. He literally glided on the floor, hard to believe such heavy man can be this light. The door cracked open, guns shooting , sound of bones breaking, blood splattering everywhere. Raian and his S/O teamwork and synergy is a top notch because they read each other's minds and work stimolysly.

No one left alive. Raian peaked at the horizon and spotted 2 boats approaching boats that didn't belong to the clan. Raian knew if they did not move now, they were doomed. He knew they would bomb the yacht. He grabbed S/O without a word or a second thought jumping right into the freezing water. The water was like daggers piercing her body, the coldness numbed her, Raian is trained and done that few times. He was ahead of her, breaking his way through the waves , she started to drown, Raian was calm , he knew the outcome and reminded himself : ( That's fuckin WHY I hate going on hits with you .. What a fuckin burden.) He pulled S/O, swam to the a nearby shore , fell on his back and she was unconscious laying next him, cold as ice. She was going through hypothermia obviously, he pulled her body quickly into a hidden spot, took off her clothes and his and basically used his entire body as a blanket to heat her's up.

A few long minutes till she opened her eyes, the heat she was immersed with felt so good, the chest moving ever so slowly against her's, Raian was literally wrapped around her like a skin cover. She strongly felt safe , warm, and kinda funky 😈. S/O made the slightest move to let him know she is awake and okay, thanks to him.

A low, hoarse lazy voice demand: stay put don't move, his cold breath was hitting her forehead. She wanted to warm him up, too, but she could only do this much. S/O started to run her hand gently, over his hairless chest and arms. He didn't mind, she then started rubbing his back slowly and gently creating warm fractions, he kinda enjoyed it, WHAT A FUCKING WEIRED COUPLE I SWEAR 😏...Her feet is warm now so she started to rub his thighs and Bingo ... ... WDF ...

His head titled downwards looking at her, black eyes piercing her soul, a deep voice comes out as a low growl : ( see da fuck you did, now ?? ) S/O blushed when she felt his hard errection tickling her abdomen. Both naked , both turned on and both in the middle of nowhere.

Raian, for the first time in his entire life, spooned. He hates the position because he thinks it's for old lazy bustards. He was lazy, though, trying to gain warmth and regenerate strength again. Raian, when he is vulnerable, can be without any arguments, the sexiest man alive.

Raian shifted his S/O body to the side her back facing him, her ass pushed backwards, allowing him to enter her from behind, hand grabbed her waist not too firmly but steady enough to control her body. He could not control his own growle when he met her heat its cold outside but fucking damn oven from the inside the feeling blew his mind, suddenly eagerness with each powerful thrust , suddenly Raian is back again fully charged. Fuck the cold , he is not getting out of her, he will knot her like a fucking beast time and time again till she collapses .

The next thing she knows, she is their bed again cuddled by her boyfriend,feeling cosy, safe, and probably pregnant.

** fanart belongs to the rightful owner

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ MOLASSES

tw. incest, noncon to dubcon, size kink, belly bulge, a lot of praise, breeding, creampie, corruption, lotta emotions and tears, ? yandere, soft service dom! vash wordcount. 5k

a/n. if you don't watch this show please please give it a try it's grEAT ♡♡♡ I don’t know anything other than the first 8 episodes of Trigun, so there will be spoilers or references from those, but nothing else! So if you’re also watching the show for the first time you are safe. I’ve just gone off of the backstory we know so far and personal interpretation, so some things might turn out to be a little out of character in the future. ♡♡♡ hope you liKKEE it i loVEEE love these charas already im gonna cry

vash the stampede x fem!reader

The dust that tickles your neck makes breathing heavy, sluggishly treading through layers upon layers of sand. The blanket of dust also catches the light of the sun, casting everything in a stunning brilliance while drowning out the horizon. It stings, and your feet burn with every step- you wipe a sloppy hand across your forehead, but remain just as sticky, hot and gross. All things that- in the long run- don’t matter. Or won’t matter once you’re done here.

The sand shifts under your feet, and makes the climb even slower.

Only a few more steps. You take a deep breath, and watch the scene unfolded before with a heavy feeling that makes your empty stomach churn. At the bottom of the wave of sand, the big metal cruiser stands shimmering violently under the midday sun— smoking, abandoned if the footprints are anything to go by, and recognizable. You trip your way down the mountain of sand with heavy legs, sinking down every few steps as you look around.

The faint shape of a town remains at the edge of your vision. It’s far, but not impossibly so. You wouldn’t like to do it by foot, though, can’t imagine anyone would. The vehicle, while glowing with heat, is valuable enough not to leave even its wreckage behind. And the person you’ve been trailing is no fool. If you had any energy left, that would set off more alarm bells then it does. But you still unholster your gun, the metal heavy in your hands as you raise it towards the door nearest to you. It would be safe to assume they’ve gone, and their numbers aren’t great enough to leave people lingering.

Your breathing is tight as you wipe your hands on your clothing again, one by one, and make it the last bit down in a jog. The town doesn’t look particularly rich or well-populated, but any town out in the middle of nowhere like this one, has one thing of value.

The door of the vehicle clinks mechanically as it slides open, and the engine of the vehicle blows a long, whistling noise— and your aim is perfect as you freeze up. It reveals a set of stairs into the upper deck, but you simply glare, and after a few seconds, put on a slight frown. “You can come out now.”

Your voice is steadier than you imagined it would be.

There was a time where you longed fondly for the reunion, you suppose, nights by the campfire, in other people’s company. It was impossible not to, foreign as you were to the world. Wondering where and how you belonged, if you were missed, or needed. But it’s been years… too many years, and things have changed.

And yet, his voice sounds exactly how you remember it when it comes from within the metal cage- just out of your view. “That’s awfully distant.”

“Come out or I’ll riddle this hack of shit full of bullets and leave you stranded out here,” you say now, peering through the scope along the heavy barrel, and cocking it once. “Now, Nai!”

There’s a soft chuckle, and then feet that gracefully slide down the stairs into view, each step slow and steady and confident. You expect nothing less. The white cape obstructs most of him from your view, so you don’t dare blink— until at last, he jumps down onto the shifty sand, both hands raised. “That’s Nai niichan to you, isn’t it?” It’s unbearable. The low tones of his voice are just present enough not to allow you to slip into thought, but you find yourself tearing up regardless. He’s still sickeningly perfect, light hair sweeped away from his forehead, brows soft and straight, and a smile to pierce straight through your heart.

Whatever type of restraint you convinced yourself you could have if you saw him again, seems to evaporate with the sun flares that burn above. Instantly. And though you had time to prepare yourself, the last few hours of catching up to him aren’t enough for the onslaught of emotions that crash over you as you aim that barrel straight at his face. “Cut the shit. You don’t get to talk your way out of this, not this time.” Your voice cracks, and you bite your lip. “I wasn’t expecting to pick up on your tracker this far out…” Or at all. But maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that the eldest expected you to give up on him. Given he gave up on you, too. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Not here.” At your glare, his mouth corners twitch, and he lulls his head to the side. “I’m alone, baby sister, I promise. I sent them into town to handle business. You understand.”

The quip gets under your skin, and you’re sure he knows, but you narrow your eyes, and tighten the finger on the trigger as Nai waits. For what, you’re not entirely sure. There’s so much to say, too much for a single person’s lifetime, but you know your eldest brother. He’s strong, and shifty just as much as the sand he plays around in; and he’s most likely just entertaining you. You know that. “I should just kill you right here and now,” you end up mumbling. Sand scratches the metal of the cruiser, and the ticks of the dust hitting the surface grow louder.

“I don’t even get a chance to explain myself?” The joyful melody of his voice is everything but normal, and you want to scream, and kick and cry until it stops being so damn grating, but you can’t. You hate him. You hate him, don’t you? “How cruel.”

You snap. Voice full volume and angry, you don’t even feel the way it stings between breaths as you bark out what needs saying. “This isn’t a game, Nai! It’s been five years, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?! Explain what?!” Your vicious anger makes your entire face feel hot, burning with an entirely different purpose. “Explain how you took him away from me?! Why? What did niichan ever do, except give you chance after chance to make things right?!” All those years of your grief that built up into a ball of resentment can’t be stopped with a simple confrontation. You knew that going in. But it suddenly all comes out like a dam that’s been shattered, and floods everything else.

“And I’m to blame?”

“You killed him!” you burst, glaring so hard your eyes might make him drop dead on the spot. “He was all I had left! But you just can’t let things go! And you took him- y-you took him from me, and I’m here to make you pay.” The dry chuckle isn’t unexpected, but it still hurts. And you find yourself fighting back the very real urge to make him hurt just the same- simply taking a deep breath instead.

“Careful. Your favoritism is showing.” The white jacket rustles unnervingly in the wind, as the howling picks up in volume. It seems to thump in the same rapid rhythm your heartbeat is, and Nai raises a brow. “You’re no idiot, so I’ll assume you came with a plan. But little sister or not, even you have to realize that if I want you dead, it won’t be much of a challenge to make that happen. You’d do better trying to get along with me and show some forgiveness.”

The cold, calculated way he throws it out between you two is almost laughable. Like it’s even a choice. Like you were ever given any other choice than revenge, when he left you out here to die. Stranded, alone, with the only family you have left… “I’ll never forgive you,” your lips move, kissing the words— and wonder if you mean them. You don’t think you do, not really. But you want to either way, be it out of spite, or some sense of justice. No one could say he didn’t have it coming. “Never.” You bite back a sniffle, to caress the trigger tighter even—

a name.

your name.

called out like a gentle caress, or a brush along your cheek.

Your teary eyes focus on the movement at the top of the stairs quicker than you can process that the voice isn’t Nai. He wasn’t alone, and he lied- he always does, the child in you chants- but the voice… is familiar. Too much so. It sets every hair on your body up on end despite the heat, as a few steps sound on the metal stairs. Boots, a red coat, and you stumble back. The gun lowering automatically, dropping to the floor as heat floods your face. Heat in the form of tears, rolling thick down your cheeks. Nai barely moves, but you’re shaking as your other brother kicks up some sand and smiles, kind and wide and wholly him.

“Hey, little sister.”

Absolute disbelief floods you as you watch Vash, your Vash, stand side by side to his twin— and for a moment, you wonder if the heat got to you after all. But he moves, and though Nai moves to keep him from approaching, before you know it you can feel warm hands on your face; stroking your teary eyes and keeping you from totally collapsing. “Vash? Vash- niichan-” Your voice fails you as his blue eyes close and his matching nose bumps yours pressing his forehead to yours; and everything fails to make sense. “But I- I thought- you were dead, you were dead- I kn-” You pull back to look at Nai, then Vash, then Nai again.

The two people you had spent the last five years mourning— your kin, your blood; without grievances, alongside each other. “I looked for you.” Your own voice takes you aback with the thought. Because it’s true. You looked. Everywhere. Every sign, every possible option, you had dug for years on end to find nothing- “I checked … everything, if you reached out to me anywhere, I would have heard- I-”

You shouldn’t feel ice cold to the touch, eyes stinging as the wind picks up- but you dare glance up at your brother again- and he’s still quiet. Regretful. Sorry. The familiarity you find in those baby blues suddenly feels miles and miles away, and you take a staggered step back. It’s funny, really. “You knew.” You were always the temperamental one of the three, and you always felt more strongly than Nai did, you knew that for sure. But you used to kid yourself in saying Vash understood; as kids tend to do.

Realization hits you square in the face. “You knew I was tracking you, and you made me think-” The words die in your throat. “You left me out here. You left me to die out here. Y- to join him?!” Your head hurts, and spins, and you suddenly feel like you’re sinking into the floor with the full weight of that. Though either of them haven’t spoken yet, the silence is proof enough. It makes you sick, it burns on the way down, and you almost feel your stomach climb up into your throat.

“I had no choice, every second I didn’t- you were in danger,” Vash starts, reaching for you again, and you smack his hand away as hard as you possibly can.

“I thought you were dead! And not only did I not know, you didn’t even try. Both of you just left me-” By now, you’re barely breathing; the short, gasped hiccups aren’t enough to bring oxygen back into your system— you reach for your disposed gun to whip it back up at your brother’s face— as your frown digs so deep into your tear-ridden expression it aches. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you.”

Nai only stares as your barrel goes to press against his twin’s forehead, but Vash— you suppose you were always three sides of the trifecta. If you had the temperament, and Nai nii the logic, Vash would be the emphatic one out of you all. Because even with your heavy duty gun right between his brows, his sad smile as he reaches for your cheek doesn’t fail; and he leans into you. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your shaky breath isn’t enough, and you pull up your runny nose as you look back at Nai.

His beautiful face, and the quiet, tender look that passes— before the icy cold returns. “We don’t have time for this, Vash.” A mechanical click is so loud and heavy and piercing, a split second before you feel something hit the back of your head hard, and the world goes dark.

+

The room is quiet, apart from the slight ruffle of the sheets with his breathing, and yours against him. Ship Three rumbles at night, like a large beast settling down- it always keeps you up longer than you want it to. Keeps you from dreaming, too. But even in the darkness, there’s other soft noises you recognize like they’ve been coded into your brain, like the way he yawns and drapes an arm around you. These were the good days. Childishly unworried and awfully clingy. His voice is soft when he hums, and digs his chin a little deeper into the top of your head. “Not gonna sleep?”

“‘m trying,” you nod back, and nuzzle your face into his collarbones a little more. Your lashes brush the rough fabric of his shirt each time you blink, and shuffle, before eventually the hand creeps up to lovingly pet along your hairline. Vash’s eyes are half lidded when you dare to cast a glance upwards, but even the slightest bit of light gives them a warm, impossible shimmer. It’s home, and you find yourself clinging onto him a little tighter. The only sense of comfort you can allow yourself when the rest of the ship still feels so hostile, and you two- foreign.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers, and even in your childlike innocence, it takes you aback a little. There’s only a few things you can think of that keep you up at night, right? Worries you and him share, should both be concerned about. You never bring it up, though. Because he doesn’t either, and what big brother says, goes. But you are not nearly as unaware as a child of your age should be. And you worry about tomorrow. If Luida and Brad decide to kick you two out at one point, if… 

No, when Nai niichan returns from his shallow grave. And you know he will. It’s only a matter of time.

“Can’t I come with you tomorrow?” His embrace is just tight enough to make you believe the promise you make every time you go to bed. “Everyone else but never each other,” you parrot, dutifully searching for his other hand to link your fingers with, “right?”

Vash stares for a moment longer, before a smile comes up onto his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s right.” We can lose everyone else. You’ve always believed your big brother. Trusted him implicitly, and without second thought, always. But for the first time in years, your throat closes up a little as your fingers tighten into fists of his shirt, and your desperate grip on him seems to be failing you. There’s no choice. There’s nothing else left to save.

+

Your head doesn’t hurt as much as you realistically know it should, when you come to. You groan, and your eyes slowly flick open to the sight of steam, and an intense heat that envelops you head to toe. The warmth of water all around your sore muscles is, by all accounts, a royal treat. Even the upper echelon has a hard time getting enough water to run a bath— and it splashes all around as you right yourself in the bath and try to come to. The first thing you notice is the shape of someone hovering near the doorway, and you wrap your arms around your upper body with a sneer.

Nai’s light hair is longer than it used to be. Of course, you don’t remember that much of the lean, skittish boy he used to be way back when, but you had pictures of the years you were too young to remember any more vividly. And when Vash died- when he left you- you barely got a glimpse of Nai before he vanished back into thin air.

The water is hot enough to make everything feel languid and soft and you have to fight yourself a little to raise an arm out of the water to go and grab for a towel. One that Nai snatches out of your reach, tossing it instead over the sink with a little lift of his brow. “Don’t be a brat. You probably haven’t had a bath in years, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

You have no smart quip back to that, because you do of course, and instead let out a long breath. “Did you undress me?” Your eyes slide just quickly along his form-fitting white suit before tightening your arm around yourself. Along with your legs crossing, your spine straightens as he keeps his eyes on you too intently.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before when we were kids.”

Your dry chuckle fills the room only just. “It’s not the same as when we were kids, niisan. Not even close.” If he actually considers that fact, he sure doesn’t show it on his face, and the silence grows even tighter and more tense as you wait. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Nai turns his back on you to open the door.

“Vash, she’s awake.” If anything, that’s worse. You’d much rather spend another uncomfortable eternity stewing in your disdain for the eldest, than have to face Vash right now. But Nai doesn’t care, of course— and the slight shuffle outside of the large bathroom makes you want to sink into the water and resist the urge to come up for air. The two switch spots, and then the door is closed, and you’re trapped here again.

He calls your name so gently you almost think you imagine it, but it still tickles all the way up your spine with longing. And anger, and regret, all balled into a mess that is at risk of spilling over again at any moment. “How are you feeling?” His voice breaks the bubble. And you look to him despite everything, because you’re nothing if not trained to rely on him. It’s all you’ve ever known, and being betrayed doesn’t make that habit any easier to swallow. “Are you still hurting?” His cheeks are flushed over as he crouches down, and shuffles a little closer to the edge of the bathtub.

“Stop patronizing me, Vash. I don’t want your help.” You might say that, but you and him both know better. He says it out of genuine worry. The only problem is, you don’t want his fucking worry. You want him to plead for your forgiveness and explain and give you reasons to forget that you’re upset. You want his crocodile tears to wash away the fact that you’re hurting— and as long as you don’t get any of that, how can you forgive? His fingers reach out to grip along the back of your head and feel, and though you feel a very slight soreness, it’s mainly the casual way he touches you that sets you off. “Get your hands off of me.”

And then you’re crying, pulling up your nose against the wetness spilling out of your stupid, childish expression- and Vash, as he always does, goes even more familial and comforting. “Oh, my little girl, shhh- it’s okay. I’m so sorry, I am, c’mere.” He tosses his sweater aside to stand and move you out of the deepest part of the bath and makes room for himself, kicks off his socks, and slides in behind you. Uncaring about the fact that he’s in a shirt and boxers, he comes into the hot water and pulls you right back into him, and you don’t have the willpower to do anything but let him. “Big brother’s got you, shhh, shhh. I’m right here.”

You hate that it is comforting. You hate that you like the closeness.

And in the way you turn to press your face to his cheek, or how his arms fit around your curled up position in his lap, there’s a soft press between your brows that he fills with gentle kisses, where he runs his mechanical hand along the length of your thigh over and over again. And when you look up at him, Vash’s baby blues glint over, and he dips his head to be even closer to you. Close enough to feel his breathing on your face, and- have his lips pressing against your mouth. He lingers, knocks his forehead with yours, before the warmth returns and stays, and this time it heats your body up from the inside out.

“Niichan,” your voice breaks the silence, and he wraps his arms even tighter around you. Uncaring of the fact that you’re, his smallest sibling, is naked in his lap. Or well— you don’t dare think of any other option for his prodding and touching, happy to just live and let live for now. You’ve never been entirely ordinary in this world, after all, and… by virtue of proximity, it’s so easy to fall back into the role of the all adoring little sister. The press of his hips under yours is distracting when he shuffles, but eventually starts kissing down your neck.

“I never meant to leave you, I promise. Nai came to find me- and he forced me to join- I wanted to look for you, I swear, I went back- but Nai thought you wouldn’t … forgive him- and that you’d only be in more danger.” It goes in one ear and out the other. All you know is that your skin is so cold wherever his hands leave their traces, and that you don’t want him to stop touching you. You want him to say it. “Please forgive me. Please. I am so sorry.” His eyes are always so pretty when they’re aimed your way.

+

The bed sheets are cold when you land on top of them, Vash climbing over your body and running his lips down your neck and chest all the way down your belly. There’s something so high and out-of-this-world about the way he touches you, and clings to you, and you want to drown in it more than anything. But there’s just the one problem— He tosses the towels aside, and squeezes the soft plush of your thighs as he kisses you and his tongue opens your mouth again. “S- Love me,” he breathes into the kiss, before growling when your leg hooks around his thighs to pull him closer, “say you love me.”

The one problem that rears it’s ugly head as you watch your brother grab at your waist and scan your naked body before him like you’re just anyone- like- Your breathing hitches, and you shake your head. “No, no no no, wait, niichan.” You barely got a second to come to terms with the fact that you’re near him again, and barely one more to have him descending on you- that you didn’t stop for a second to think. This is your brother, and as much as your body might lie and say that it’s not so bad, you know better. He knows better. “Vash nii, no, we can’t. We can’t.” Your breathy moans of his name aren’t enough, and dragging a hand through his hair and tugging for good measure isn’t either.

He’s already panting and flushed above you, and tastes your mouth again as he spreads your thighs. “Oh, come on, imouto, please. Just lay back, lay back for me.” You try to push at his shoulder, but he only presses back harder, and stares at the point between your two bodies. Where his hard cock is dripping pre and the tip flushed red between his muscular thighs. It makes your tongue squirm in your mouth, as the cold glass of his hand comes to grip your jaw and he kisses and moans and does all of it without thinking. “Please, little sister, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you so much.”

His body lowers to yours, having his hard cock now brushing the top of your dripping pussy, heartbeat jackhammering against your ribcage like crazy. What is wrong with you? You know this can’t happen, know that the right thing to do is to shove him off and go to bed, but your body is so hot. He’s hot too, and so much different from what you knew him as— it fucks with your brain. Like a willfully forgiving haze that suffocates any sane thought. “Couldn’t get off without you, for five whole years,” he breathes, and kisses you, running his tongue along your ear and down your neck, “couldn’t do anything. I only wanted my little sister. Always- always wanted you.”

His other hand comes to trace random shapes on your tits, just barely brushing your nipples until they’re peaked and you have a cold shiver roll down your spine. “Don’t you want to be one with your big brother? Hm?” You do. Your arms instinctively reach up to wrap yourself around his back and feel his heartbeat against yours, larger shape basically crushing you into the bed. But it’s okay, and the way he rolls his hips against your waist, cockhead kissing the sloppy, needy entrance of your cunt- feels so fucking good. You can’t. Your head is shaking ‘no’ even though he pants your name and lines up to slide the swollen, ruddy tip between your bottom lips.

“We can’t, we can’t, niichan. It’s not right.”

“Shhh,” he squeezes your face before kissing you again, then flicking your nipples between expert fingers until your pussy is basically sucking him in itself, and your trembling legs slot over his calves. “I’d never want to leave my baby sister behind, how could you even think that.” The breathy admission is paired with a sloppy kiss above your heart, before he sucks the soft of your tit into his mouth and laves his tongue over your peaked bud. Then his hips roll again, and with a soft hiss, his heavy, hot cock slides into you. You should fight. You should run out of here. Should’ve never tried to find Nai to begin with.

But you moan as his heat fills your walls and he bucks slowly into you with unadulterated adoration, and tug at his blond head of hair for support. “Niichan, Vash niichan, no, no, y- can’t be inside me. Get out~” The out sounds more like a moaned ‘aw’, as his cock slides inside inch by inch and stretches you.

It aches. Every touch is more heated than the last one, and your nails automatically dig into the skin of his back as he bottoms out and tries to settle in your heat, tight little pussy barely big enough to fit all of him. Your eyes flick up to his face, and he laughs a little absentmindedly when you tear up. “Oh, fuck, you’re so tight. M- fucking my baby sister’s pussy- holy shit. I’m gonna move, m’kay?” It hurts and stretches you inside in a way that shouldn’t feel good, but it does, it does, you want to cry. He kisses sloppily onto your mouth and cheek, before groaning, “m’gonna -fuck.” The lewd sound of your cunny squelching as he pulls back and grabs himself at the base, pushing back in with a long moan— it’s so much.

But you’re entranced, totally sky-high with the way he looks above you, and over you. “Ah, ah, ah, nii~chan, I can’t, I-” you struggle to stay still under so much pleasure, hips jerking and your entire body pulling taught like a bow. “Vash nii~” Ever devoted, he blushes and groans your name and whispers to you, sliding in and out of you and pushing your thighs open further. With each pump, you’re a little further gone. With each pump, he seems to fill more of you, making your pussy drip all over the fancy, soft sheets. Your hands reach back to fist into the satin when he lays a final kiss onto your mouth, and rights himself to drape one of your legs over his shoulder, using his body weight to fuck harder and deeper— every pap, pap, pap sliding the bed back and forth in the dark.

And you choke on it, on your tears and spit and all the words that don’t make it out of your mouth; it keeps your head in a blissful cloud. One that has you slicking all over his cock as he fucks in and out, with rapid, rhythmic abandon. He’s so pretty. He’s so fucking pretty, is all you can think as he hoists your hips up with a hum and grinds his cock slower and deeper against your plush walls. “Oh, f-look at that. I can see myself through your belly, baby. Fu—ck.” It’s true. When you look down, he’s pressing on a little pouch that looks more raised than it should, and the push makes your pussy clench even harder around him.

“Niichan, n-niichan- that feels weird. S-stop.” He doesn’t, and the high blush on his cheeks and ears goes even more flushed when his eyes meet yours and he goes to wipe the tracks on your cheeks away.

“S’okay. I’m gonna take care of you, I swear ‘t. Ack, you’re so pretty, so fucking good.” His hand goes to change grip on your lifted thigh, while the other rubs sloppy circles at the top of your needy pussy until you can’t take it anymore. Your legs lock around him, and you grab at him arm in order to slow him down, but he simply shakes you off and spits onto your pussy for good measure. “You can cum, it’s okay. Big brother’s cock feels good in here, right? In that tight, little pussy. Go ahead and cum, cum for me. I know you want to,” the words barely come in, only the way your feet tremble and your muscles go even tighter.

You’re clenching so hard around him he has to fight to keep up the solid rhythm of his thrusts, and moaning, and throwing your head back as your nails drag down his arm. “I- I’m cl- oh god, I wanna cum with you, niichan—” you cry out with a tiny voice, getting shut up by your own hand slapping over your mouth at the terrible admission. But it lingers in the air as his fingers speed up more, rubbing that puffy nub until your vision goes black and white and the tightly wound coil in your belly snaps. “Vash nii~chan- I love you, I lo-love you. Please,” your voice dies, letting Vash fuck you through your orgasm as your toes curl and thighs shake and he jackhammers his cock inside you.

He heaves you off the bed into his arms before you’re even done to have your arms around his neck, and matching hysterical heartbeats thumping against each other, as he kisses at your temple. “I know, I know, I know, baby. Niichan’s gonna give you what you want, hm? And then you’ll say thank you, and I’ll fuck you again.” The kiss is sloppy when it finds your mouth, tongue taking more than you can give in your current situation. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you again, hang on- shit, c-cumming. Love yo-mouto, love you, m’filling you up.”

As he moves your body up and down on his thick, slicked up cock like a doll, you can’t control the slick that runs down your thighs or the ruined expression— just that you cling onto him as the last twitches of your soft walls wrap around him like it’ll keep him right beside you.

With a last few punishing thrusts, all the hot cum from your big brother’s fat balls fills up your insides, pumping you full to the brim with heat. But you barely get a second to come down before he lets you back into the bed, and turns you over so you’re onto your knees, and his cold fingers push inside to plug you up a little more. “Gonna breed this little baby sister pussy, hah. That’s okay with you, right? I promise I’ll make it feel good, imouto.”  

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Summer Fling Part 9/10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary - Reader has landed a research job at a marine biology lab in Portugal. She is, therefore, staying with her sister and her sister's Portuguese boyfriend for the summer holidays. There she meets Ruben Dias who is on vacation with his friends after the 2024 Euros. However, the two meet under the circumstances in which Ruben believes that Reader is a prostitute.

Enjoy ☀️

The winds were rough just off the coast. The ocean waves caught Gavin's boat in a turbulent storm drifting you further and further away from land.

"Where are you taking me?" You held onto the railings on the upper deck, watching Gavin steer his yacht right into the epicenter of approaching gray clouds.

"Gibraltar!" He shouted over the sound of  waves slapping against the side of the yacht, whipping it side to side. "I'll take us as far as the mediterranean islands. Ever heard of Malta? I'm sure you'll love it there."

"You'll never get away with this!"

"You're damn right I won't, I just fucking shot a man." He laughed.

"Then why are you doing this?" I thought you were a marine biologist?"

"I am. But darling let me tell ya, it doesn't pay as good as my other passions."

"You mean pimping out girl's to rich men?"

Gavin shook his head, a sly grin on his lips as he stepped away from the wheel of the boat. You held onto the railings but backed off as he approached you.

"I should have known who you were when I first met you. You and your sister share the same gullible face. She came to me willingly, you know. Asking me for a job that would grant her stay in Portugal. You on the other hand would rather count fish at the zoo than let a man treat you for a night."

"A man maybe, but not you…"

He smiled, playing with the strap around his waist. The strap that carried his gun. "I was like you once. Young and naive, committed to my research in hopes of making the world a better place. Here is a newsflash for ya sweetheart, the world is a fucked up place and no matter how hard you try to get the bad guys to stop doing bad things, the bad guys always win. Especially those with pockets full of money."

"So that's it, you just decided to join them, become a bad guy yourself?"

He held out his arms, "I'm doing fairly well, aren't I? And trust me, I'm doing more for marine life than any of those stuck up scientists in the universities you praise. All they do is count seaweed samples while I'm out here doing the real heavy lifting.

"You mean taking advantage of young girls for your own benefit."

"For the ocean's benefit!" He shouted.

You lost your footing for a second, gripping your bubbling stomach. The rocking of the boat did nothing to mend your  rising seasickness.

"Do you know how much time and money I've put into developing the marine station? Sure, the university gave me the permit to build it. However, I'm the one funding every piece of equipment that allows the students to perform diligent research, practical research that doesn't just end up on a chart in some ecology majors powerpoint presentation. I'm trying to change the world Y/N and I really thought you would appreciate that. Perhaps even help me collect the funding like your sister does." Gavin reached out, caressing your trembling cheeks, his thumb tracing your lips. "You would've been my favorite out of all the girls."

You hunched forward, throwing up your last meal, which appeared to be milk and cornflakes. Gavin jumped out of the way not to stain his shoes. "For fucks sake." 

He grabbed you by the arm, leading you downstairs into one of the suits. You fought him at first but let him get you out of your stained clothes. You were handed a towel to wipe your mouth while Gavin stood back, watching you with a predatory gaze, his hand reaching down to unzip his pants.

"No, wait."

He grinned, a cold grin that sent a shiver down your spine. It faltered however, with the sound of a drumming engine heard overhead.

"Fucking coastgards."

"Help, help. I'm down here. Help!"

"You shut your fucking mouth."

You winced. Gavin lunged forwards, slapping you across the face. He then drew his weapon, pressing the gun against the back of your neck. "One word." He gritted, pushing you out of the suit. 

You came around the corner, expecting to come face to face with the local coast guards. However…

"Y/N!"

"Ruben!"

His eyes narrowed at the sight of Gavin, standing behind you with a gun to your back.

"Y/N are you alright—"

"Ah, ah, another step and she dies."

"Hey man." Ruben threw his hands up. "We don't want any trouble, the police are already on their way."

"We?"

Spotted in the corner of your eye, something came rushing towards you.

"Argh!" Gavin went down, hands covering his face.

"That's for Diogo." Maki threw the hammer she held aside, grabbing Gavin's gun that had slid away from him. He lay squirming in pain, blood gushing out from the wound in his head. "And this…" Maki stood over him, angling the gun. "...This is for my sister."

"Maki, no!" You rushed to stop her. "Don't do it. He's not worth it."

"He shot Diogo." She said, the gun trembling in her hand.

"Please." You pleaded. "I don't want to lose you. If you kill him, I will."

She fought herself, her finger hovering over the trigger. 

"Please, Maki, don't do it."

Tears streamed down her face as she lowered the gun. You took it away, handing it to Ruben for safe keeping, pulling your sister into your arms.

"I'm so sorry." She cried. "This is all my fault. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I know. I'm sorry too."

The sirens from the police boats approached in the distance. What could have been had come to an end. You were safe. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[ltwilliammowett]

HMS Victory- upper gundeck von Gordon Dedman

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 20}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: The anniversary of meeting one Fransisco Morales approaches and with it, your marriage to the man who had become such a large part of your life in all the best ways.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, light angst, mild violence, one (1) instance of police abusing their power, talk of past gun violence, ptsd, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is handicapped, reader uses a cane and wheelchair, reader has mobility issues, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m and f receiving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, hints at a threesome perhaps (haha what?), sappy feelings, sexual feelings, joel and his part of the miller clan make an appearance, mentions of nausea, bodies are weird and so are emotions, (hopefully) good cliffhanger, lemme know if i missed anything else!

A/N: we made it, we did it. y'all this is the last chapter of this labor of love. i lost sight of it for a while there but i saw it through to the end and just a few days shy of the anniversary of the first chapter being posted!! thank y'all so much for being along for the ride ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“Frankie! Frankie put me down!” You shout, laughter stalled in your throat as the man holds you tight in his grip and starts to walk down the deck.

“Nu-uh, you were badmouthin’ me. Gonna teach you a lesson.” You can’t see the look on his face but you can see the other’s all trying to contain their laughter as your thrown over his shoulder and uselessly pound your fists on his broad back.

“Do not throw me in that water! They’re things in there!”

“It was just a lil snake, mante! He’s more scared of you than you are of him!”

Your next words transform into a scream as Frankie shifts you to cling to his front, arms making sure your secure before he steps right off the last plank of sun warm wood and plunges you both into the water.

“Fransisco!” You shout as you bob up to the surface, legs kicking and arms flailing to keep your head up above the surface. He’s nowhere to be seen and you panic for a moment that you might have kicked him too harshly and he can’t make his way up to the surface. But something grabs a hold of your leg and you’re being pulled down.

He’s right in front of you underneath the surface, bubbles sprouting from his nose as he tries not to laugh at the shocked expression on your face. To sooth you, he swoops in and kisses you deep, giving you the very air from his lungs.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a fire is started in the put right on the deck. The crackling of split wood, bright glowing embers, and raucous laughter float about the air. Someone had come up with the idea to turn a regular game of poker into one of strip. The guys may be good at keeping their cool in tense situations, their training allowing them to think they would have the upper hand. But between you, Morgan, and Isabella whispering conspiratorially amongst yourselves and draping bare arms and legs over each other across the outdoor furniture as you help each other with cards gripped in loose hands, the cast of firelight illuminating the scene for their eyes alone, they had never stood a chance.

They all end up as stark naked as the day they were born, while all three of you have only a few pieces of clothing now exposing bikinis and skin that glowed in the fading firelight. And when Benny makes a beeline for the water at the end of the deck, Santiago is hauling a shrieking Morgan into his shoulder to follow suit. She slaps at his backside and you feel your face heat up as you realize what his clothes hint at is very much not an exaggeration. Frankie catches you eye with a twist of his own lips, but no one sees the way he pulls you into his lap to swallow your weak argument.

It's far too late when everyone is trudging from the cool water, droplets catching moonlight and tired muscles protesting the fun filled day now that it’s come to an end. You fall asleep atop Frankie’s chest in a matter of minutes, his lips pressed to your hair and his voice whispering his love for you.

Florida was a beautiful place to live, the winters weren’t too bad but the storms were. It rained the entire drive back from the cabin, something you suspected Will and Santiago had planned, knowing everyone was going to need a few days to recuperate after the fun of the week. Frankie pulled into the school parking lot just in time to see the bus begin to unload. The children were ushered into a line and lead down the main outdoor hall towards the two buildings of classrooms. Lex looked just as tired as the others, her bright purple umbrella standing out as she held it over her and a classmate.

“We’re giving her two options,” Frankie turned to you as the truck engine idled, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. “Pizza or that Japanese place you both like so much.”

“But-“

“Two options, and those are it.”

“What if-“

“Querida,” He sighs, no match for your wide eyes and pursed lips.

“I’ll be such a good girl for you later, please Fransisco?” You look up at him through your lashes and lean over the empty space on the bench seat between you, letting the collar to your dress dip lower than was appropriate for a school parking lot. It was blaringly obvious you hadn’t put on a bra that morning when you were packing up the sleep clothes and Frankie was mesmerized by the generous view of your cleavage. His hand holding up the peace sign fell to his lap and he shifted to fix himself, beginning to swell at the combination of you begging and the skin on display.

“You want that Mexican place that has the birria ramen, don’t you?”

“Please, Fransisco, I’ve been craving it like mad.”

“You play dirty, sweet girl.” He huffs out as you reach out a hand to caress it down his right arm, following the line of his down to where his hand rested over his lap. Sneaking it under his own, you press your palm fleetingly to the front of his jeans where the shape of him is semi-hard. At his gasp you’re pulling away and back to your side of the bench seat, phone in hand to bring up their menu for Lex to choose from.

“Yeah, but you like it.” You tease with a peek of your tongue between your teeth. He just rolls his eyes before grabbing his wallet from where it was nestled in your bag in the footwell.

“Mhm, love it, love you. Be right back,” He shoots you conspiratorial smirk before he’s moving out of the truck and down the walkway toward the building. He’s left the truck on so the humidity doesn’t seep into the cab of the vehicle.

Later that night, after Lex is in bed after a bath, Frankie slips into the guest room he had moved most of yours and his stuff into until the renovation. You’re fast asleep in the bed, curled up on your side with your hands balled up in front of you. The lamp is still on and your phone is half underneath the pillow you’re resting on as if it fell out of your grip. Your hair is loose and damp from your own attempt to wash the hours on the road away. The oversized shirt you’re wearing it one of his and he can tell you had tried to pull the covers over you but they only got as far as your hips. The two cats are curled up in the crook of your knees and on your pillow beside your head.

Lex had been so overjoyed at the realization that they were coming along with you when Frankie had asked her how she felt about you moving in with them. He now finds her taking her duties to make sure they have water and kibble very seriously, letting you or him know when they’re due for another bag way before one is needed. She didn’t want them to get mad at her if they noticed how low their container is, but he assured her that they weren’t that observant with an amused chuckle.

Sighing your name, he smiles as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as he pulls the covers up all the way. He knew you were gonna pass out the second your head hit the pillow, with the way you had begun to doze off on the couch after dinner, some cartoon on the screen to mildly occupy everyone in their hazy and lethargic state. He doesn’t fault you, he knows the week was long for you even if you hadn’t said as much. The swimming in the lake was a relief on your joints as much as it was irritating but he was glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserved it.

Your phone gets plugged into a charger and he makes sure to turn the lamp off on his way back out the door. He tidies up the kitchen from the scattered havoc of take out containers, plastic utensils, and to go cups, making sure it all goes out into the trash right inside the garage. Mind running, he snatches his own phone from the front pocket of his jeans and sends a text off to Joel Miller, double checking that they’re all set for their flight in the morning. As he waits for a response, he sees your truck parked and sitting there, a spot of oil beneath it staining the concrete of the ground.

Frowning he pops the hood and checks it out, making sure everything is okay for you to drive around tomorrow, ensures that your handicap placard is securely in place over the rearview mirror. He spots the large manilla envelope with your handicap emblazoned license and makes sure to replace your old one before he wipes down the dash and cleans out the various left behind items. The cab smells of your perfume and he smiles to himself as he basks in it. Warm vanilla and jasmine, a hint of citrus. You, so unbelievably you that it makes his heartrate pick up.

Something brushes up against his pant leg as he’s leaning into the cap, trying to get something that had fallen under the seat and he startles, bashing his hand on the mechanics of it. Removing himself, he looks down to see the form of your large tabby.

“Hey, Rig, just making sure your mami’s truck is all set for tomorrow.” He bends to scratch between the big guys ears, earning a purr of contentment. “We gotta get her a different car, though, huh bud?”

A long drawn out meow is the cat’s answer.

“What do you think she’d want?” Frankie picks up his phone and hits the button for Benny. The man’s magnetic energy and charming smile his best aid in the endeavor he had been silently thinking on since your release from the hospital. Once you had been cleared to drive, it was a larger worry, you having to climb up into the truck. He was able to help you when you rode with him, but he worried for you when you were out and about on your own.

“Fish, I literally just spent the whole week with you. I love you too, man, but I just laid down for the night.”

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Mind’s just firin’ away.”

“Is everything okay?” Shuffling can be heard down the line, Benny’s tone shifting to one of mild concern.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Lex and Mante are asleep, but I wanted to ask if you were able to go car shopping with me tomorrow.”

“For Manté?”

“Yeah, figured you could help charm the sales representatives and maybe co-sign if my standing isn’t good enough.”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll sign it and gift it to you. Wedding gift.”

“I don’t-“

“I ain’t worried about it, I got a business to use as collateral. Get me a cheaper rate if they don’t let me just outright purchase something. I want to.”

“Ma’am, you can’t park there. That’s for handicapped civilians only.” A security guard approaches you, ticket book already flipped open. But you just reach for the cane secured in the passenger side and begin the process of getting down from the slightly heightened cab.

“I know.” Is all you say as you, reaching for your bag once your feet are on the ground. But as you turn your back, a shadow falls over you and a hand is wrapping around your upper arm.

“Ma’am, a cane you don’t need is not a good enough cover. Please get back in your vehicle and park somewhere else.”

“I will not be doing that and better get your hands off of me.” You try to be as gentle as you can with yanking your arm away, but you end up jostling not only yourself but he officer who hadn’t expected you to move in such a way. He’s frowning at you, one hand reaching for you again and the other behind his back for what you assume are his cuffs.

“Please don’t make write up a report for resisting arrest AND a ticket.”

“I’m not doing anything except trying to park to pick up my friends.” Bag on your shoulder, you grip the door to the truck and make to close it but the can in your right hand is suddenly gone, your balance along with it. Pain crawls sharp across your entire waist and down your right leg, it had been sore from the second you woke up. “Hey!”

“This,” The officer brandishes your cane now in his hand. Your eyes connect with a few curious passerby and you silently plead with someone, anyone to see that this is uncalled for. “Can be considered a weapon, I’m eradicating the threat and asking for your ID so I can run in through the system.”

“No, you won’t.” You lean heavily against the extended part of the cab, trying to get any weight off your lower half you can but the feeling is slowly waning from your legs. Reaching for your phone, you suddenly find yourself spun around and your front is pressed harshly into the vehicle. “Hey! I need my phone, I need you to get off of me before I fall!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Yes there is! You’re hurting me! You took my cane from me, and my hip is hurting!”

“Excuse me, I believe the lady told you to back off.” A deep southern drawl breaks the growing hysteria and frustration, a small crowd gathering around the designated handicap parking right outside the pick up area between the bus lanes and the actual lanes of traffic. You turn your head as best you can with your cheek flush against the silver of your truck to see a pair of tall men and two young girls by back of the parking spot you had chosen to pull into.

The two men who you were supposed to have met inside, Joel and Tommy Miller. And they were stunningly handsome, the girls absolutely gorgeous as they peeked out from behind them.

This was so not how you wanted the first interaction with the two men to go. You had wanted to walk into the baggage claim area and display a cute sign for them, greet them with a smile and drive them to the bakery to show them the apartment they would be living in for the duration of the renovation.

Definitely not this way, them curiously and maybe hesitantly leaving the cool, conditioned atmosphere of the airport in search of you only to find you about to get arrested. Even if they were an extension of your close knit friend group, it wasn’t a good impression.

“Sir, please, this has nothing to do with you.”

“I reckon it does, you got my client pinned up against her truck and her cane in your hand.” Joel stepped forward and your cane dropped from the officers hand to clatter on the ground as he reached for his holstered firearm. “Hey now, all I’m askin’ is that you let her go and we can calmly talk this over.”

“There’s no talking now, she’s illegally parking in a handicapped spot, ignored my questions, and started to resist physical restraint!”

“I’m not illegally parked! My placard is on the rearview mirror and I have it on my license plate!”

“Ma’am you need to calm-“

“Do not tell me to calm down!” You shout, officially at your capacity for the sheer stupidity of the entire situation. Another office is approaching, a woman with two small kids leading him. He calmly asks what the problem is from the other officer, who keeps insisting on what he thinks is happening, checks for the placard and the symbol on your license plate and then turns to you once he orders the man holding you to step back.

“Would you mind if I run your plates and ID?” He’s helping to support you as Joel reaches for your fallen cane. He wants to bring it to you but he’s hesitant at the arrival of the second officer, the crowd thickening around, and the way your breath is quickening as you reach into your bag. “Sir, you can step forward, it’s alright.”

He does so immediately, a calming hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you as he makes sure you have a good grip on the cane with a shaking hand.  He helps you to slip the card for the officer from your wallet when he sees you can’t manage it with one hand. His fingers are warm against yours as he gently helps you, towering over you as much as Frankie does.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with this. I apologize for the out of line conduct.”

“Out of line?!” The first officer sputters, looking very much like he’s about to step toward you but at a hard look from the second one he stills and quiets.

“Are you okay, darlin’?” Joel’s deep baritone is close, he’s leaning down a little to speak lowly to you, trying to calm you as best he could despite just meeting you for the first time.

“Yeah, yes. I just…I just need a minute to breathe.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“I- yeah.” You nod, registering the sound of the truck gate being lowered and then being carefully set atop it to get the weight of your body off of your lower limbs. Tommy is perching beside you, introducing himself with a bashful smile and a compliment on your tattoos. Small talk and introductions are made while you’re waiting for the officers to return, all easy going even if your nerves feel shot and your body is aching.

The second officer returns with an apology and a reassurance that you were well within your rights to park in the spot you had. His words were repeated a few times, something striking you as him trying to avoid a lawsuit. But you weren’t interested in doing anything like that, you had just wanted to park and go about your task of picking up the Miller family. With a sigh you wish the man a good day and brace your hands beside you on the lowered gate.

But Tommy is shoving off of it and offering to help you get down.

You idly wonder what Frankie is up to as you drive across town, the airport on the outskirts. He had left you a note by the coffee maker saying he had some errands to run with Benny. Wedding stuff, he had written and you had felt so touched by the way he was willing to participate in the planning and decisions. Past relationships had split at the mere thought of marriage in your mind, as if they could sense the way it began to linger. But Frankie, for all the time and miscommunication it had taken to get here, was all in. You loved him, who he was, who he had been, all versions of who he had to be. Because it meant you got him as he was now, and he was perfect. Through all the heartbreak, he had been worht waiting for.

“This is the bakery! There’s parking along the front and a small lot to the left but,” You guide the truck down the alley between the right side and the next building over. “There’s a gated space behind it big enough for two cars and the delivery trucks when orders are dropped off. I hope they aren’t too loud in the mornin’ for you, but apologies if they are.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay if we stay here, Pastel?” Tommy asked from the back seat, somehow he had been convinced to sit in the middle of the bench, the girls on either side of him with a window. Even if his only wan argument had been that they had the window seats on the plane. But it was endearing the way he gave in, as if he would even think about denying the teenagers anything they asked for. Within reason, you figured as he winked at you through the rearview mirror as they loaded up. 

“Of course, I don’t live here anymore since moving in with Frankie, even before the shooting.”

“What was it like, being shot? It was more than once, right?” Ellie turned from her window to look at you. Tommy is immediately elbowing her in disapproval as Joel tenses up in the passenger seat.

“Ellie, that is completely inappropriate. Darlin’, I am so sorry.” Joel shoots her a look as best he could, turning in his seat beside you. “She doesn’t need an answer to that, right?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She huffs out, crossing her arms and avoiding her father’s eyes.

Once parked, everyone piles out and you lead them through the backdoor. Motioning to the door leading to the apartment before walking them through the kitchen and to the café of the bakery. The girls fawn over the pink and pastel color palate of the place, the treats in the case, and the whole vibe of the shop. Joel and Tommy taking you up on the offer of coffee to refuel after the flight.

“There are two rooms, but the guest room has a queen and the main room has the same. The sofa turns into a bed as well, so whatever you’re all comfortable with and works best for you. There’s a laundry room but only one bathroom that’s connected to the main bedroom and the corner of the kitchen. It’s pretty decent, should accommodate all four of you.” A tour is moot, but you list off the accommodations as you pivot in the middle of the main room upstairs. 

“Apologies again for the last minute change of plans, the girls are smart and I trust ‘em. But six weeks is a long time to be left to their own devices.”

“I don’t mind at all, really. Just want you to be comfortable, the pantry is stocked and I’ve left a credit card on the counter for takeout and other supplies you might need for your stay. I did have a cleaning crew come in because I wasn’t sure if any of you were allergic to cats, and I have two. They’re at Santi’s now, but the house was cleaned professionally too just in case.

“Really thoughtful of ya, sweetheart.” Tommy brushes a hand over your shoulder as he takes in the apartment. He had been right in front of you, Joel behind you to ensure you got up the stairs okay.

“The girls are more than welcome to work with me in the bakery if I’m on shift or even sit in the café with their schoolwork. And all of you are welcome to get coffee and pastries in the morning, though the cabinet is stocked with stuff too.”

“You’ve really taken everything into consideration, gotta say you’re turning out to be one of the best clients we’ve had hire us.” Joel turns from where he’s inspecting the street down below from the window above the kitchen sink.

“I wouldn’t say that quite yet, might turn out to be nitpicky about tile placement or somethin’.”

“That wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t accommodate.”

“Okay, well, cookout’s at five or six, just bring yourselves. Will and Benny are hosting, I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment I need to get to, please make yourselves at home.”

“I don’t want to overstep, but do you need any help, darlin’? I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a wheelchair in the truck.”

“I think I can manage okay but thank you. You’re very kind to offer.”

“That officer had no business doin’ what he did. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.” Tommy agrees, closing in for a departing hug that turns into him ushering you towards the stairs.

“I am, if I wasn’t it’d be a simple call, but uh…please don’t tell the guys.” You pitched your voice low as the girls disappeared into the master bedroom. “I don’t want them to worry, we’ve all just managed to get through everything.”

The brother’s nod their silent agreement.

The garage won’t open even when you press the clicker fastened to your visor. Once, twice, three times before you just pull up into the empty drive. Frankie’s truck is parking on the curb right outside the house and you grumble a little as you start to gather the few bags from your errands. You hadn’t anticipated Joel brining along his daughter with them. Something he had covered the cost for, claiming it was no big deal and that she was excited to go somewhere new. It was all organized with her school, for her to finish up the last month or so of the academic year online, Joel explained along with how he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to the neighbors for that long. He had only given you a lopsided grin and a shake of his head when you asked after a girlfriend or anything of the sort out of curiosity.

But the whole ordeal over the parking spot, the bakery being a little hectic, and being blindsided by the lovely arrival of the entire Miller family, you were tired and sore. Ready for a nap before the dinner that Will and Benny were hosting at their home. You didn’t even register Frankie as you stepped out of your sandals and hung up your bag. Not even when you walked directly passed him laid out on the couch, half asleep.

Hours later, you’re venturing out into the living room to find the man fully awake and going over the vendors who had offered to cater or help with the wedding party. He’s got his phone open on the coffee table and a fresh mug that lets loose steam into the air. It prickles your senses in a bad way, temples throbbing at the scent.

“….Frankie? I want to be completely transparent with you, but I don’t want to…” Trailing off, you realize how ridiculous the situation is, but you don’t think you can handle the sight of the man strutting about your home as the repairs and renovations get completed without staring just a little. You plop down on the couch, legs sore from the long day. You should soak in a bath later, to help alleviate some of it but you had been using the cane all day. “I dunno, make you uncomfortable.”

“What is it, Mami Pastel?” He teases, trying to lighten the tension that was coming off of you in waves.

“Well, I think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I mean, I look at you even just for a second and melt because you have the warmest, most gooey brown eyes and you’re so competent it adds to your attractiveness. The way you walk is…hypnotizing and the way your butt looks in jeans is just…mhm. The patches in your scruff, now I know you don’t like that you can’t grow a beard like Santi, but they are so you. I love pressing kisses to them and hearing your breath huff. And your smile, Frankie, your smile is my favorite in the whole entire world.”

“Okay…?” The man in question looks confused by your rather passionate rambling until he recalls the way you had stuttered under your breath and practically bolted towards the room to lay down when you returned from dropping off the Miller family at the bakery to settle in after their flight. He had seen photos of both sets of Miller brothers from family events before and it clicks. “Querida…do you have the hots for Joel?”

“No! I barely know the man.” You defend far too quickly, and you know it’s giving you away just as much as your intention to come clean anyway. Frankie just quirks a brow up in a silent question, his full lips twitching as he tried not to laugh at how adorably flustered you’re getting. He can practically feel the heat of embarrassment coming from the other side of the couch.  You aren’t able to meet his eyes, knowing it would just spark arousal paired with the image of both of them being such sturdy, broad men.

The thought of Frankie alone was enough to get you worked up, as had been the interactions with Joel.

The older man had been very attentive as you prattled on about the city as you drove them from the airport, about the bakery as you wound your way through the downtown area, and the apartment as you showed them where everything was and said you stocked it with essentials you thought they would need for the duration of their stay. But the two of them stood side by side, hands on hips and wrapped around blueprints for the house, the scent of them both mingling in your home? The sound of their voices blending in the perfect mix of deep southern twang and accented Spanish? Yeah, it was definitely doing something to you.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay if you think he’s attractive. He’s a handsome man.” Frankie shifts to pull you into his chest and you bury your face in his neck as he wraps his arms around your back. Embarrassed, you were so embarrassed that the thought of them together was getting you all worked up. The fabric of your dress far too loose to prove any relieve as you clenched your thighs together to ward it off. You pressed a kiss to the freckled skin of his neck at his comforting words, but it sent a spike of hot arousal through your middle as his scent enveloped you.  

“Sweet girl, are you…?” Frankie reached a large hand down to sneak underneath the fabric, thick fingers brushing against the front of your underwear to feel the damp material. His voice had dipped to a lower octave, something heady in the words. “Oh, you really think he’s attractive, huh?”

“I think you’re attractive.” You argue weakly, though your words were completely true.

“I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“You didn’t do anything, right?” As your meek nod, he cups your face in both his hands. “Then it’s okay, perfectly normal to be attracted to other people.”

“Frankie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweet girl. More than words can express.” He presses his lips to you and you sigh against him. “Hey, I’ve got a surprise for you. Me ‘n Benny got you something.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” He kisses you again before helping you to stand, making sure the cane is secure in your hand before he gently guides you toward the garage entrance off the kitchen. When he opens the door, you gasp at the sight of the car you had spent countless hours researching even before your relocation to Florida.

“Frankie!”

“Benny said it’s our wedding gift.”

“Frankie!” He’s fully prepared when you turn and jump into his arms, excitement and giggles sounding into the air. “Is this what you were doing today?”

“Wanted to make sure it had all the modifications you talked about, it’s the outdoors edition and the stereo system has a satellite subscription set up for you to blast your music.”

“We’ve got to christen it.” You smirk as you lean back to look down at him, his hold tightens on you before he begins to step toward the hood.

“As you wish, mi amor.” His own cheeky grin and huff of laughter stirring heat in your body as your backside is set atop the cool metal.

Six weeks go by, the renovation something Joel and Tommy pour their entire selves into. The girls join you everyday you’re in the bakery, helping you and having fun with it, even if they weren’t the best as using the piping bags. In turn, you make sure to either cook or order lunch for them and sit down with them to knock out some of their schoolwork each day. It’s a good routine, returning to Santiago’s home in the early evenings after picking up Lex, having been added to the office’s records at her school as a guardian. The man hosting you typically has dinner made when you walk through the front door.

Frankie is normally the last one home, taking over the task of bathing Lex before bed each night. Often finding you and his best friend cuddled or sprawled out in the living room with something playing lowly on the television. The sight warms his heart. Even more so when he walks through the door to see Morgan or any other of your friend group sharing in jovial evenings that he knows you cherish just as much. Each week someone hosted a cookout, since there were so many of you now, to get everyone together and ensure everyone is okay, breaking up the monotony of adulthood.

On the anniversary of first meeting the one and only Fransisco Morales, you both make your way down to the city hall and file for a marriage certificate. Just the two of you, something personal and intimate even if it was such a simple way to go about it. You both smiled so brightly at each other, recognizing how far of a journey it had been to get there. But one you would both traverse again and again if it ended all the same. Once the house was complete, the official celebration would take place.

And today was that day.

Everything was perfect, everything was what you had wanted it to be and more. The work Will and Benny’s cousins wrapped up, and the house Frankie had bought all those years finally exhibiting the life he had aspired to create for him and his daughter. For you, now too. Santiago’s home had become the home base during the repairs, but today, right now Joel and Tommy Miller were walking you through the completed house.

They were both so handsome and you wondered idly how you ended up surrounded by such beautiful people, inside and out. You had been so nervous to meet with them in person when they arrived, but an easy going and friendly ‘Well, hey there darlin’. Nice to put a pretty name to that pretty voice.’ had eased your anxieties as well as a greeting embrace from Joel once the whole parking ordeal had been resolved.

Tommy had been a little flustered, being so far away from home and having been flying once again, the only time he had known to do so was for his tour abroad with the Army. Something Joel had admitted to you when you called the morning before their flight to confirm everything and make sure they had the tickets in their hands.

So real, so human. So good, everyone in your life, in the little bubble you created for yourself born of running away from your old city and the traumas that had occurred there. With nothing but a newly signed deed for a building you had only looked at online and a crate of two cats, you had built your life up to what it is now and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“We did a little more than you asked for, but we didn’t mind. Wanted to make sure you had everythin’ you needed for getting around easy.” Joel leads the way through the door, your copy of the keys in his hands. Tommy was bringing up the line you, Frankie, and Alexia made.

“Saw the opportunity to do some modifications in the kitchen while we were putting the laundry in there and with Frankie’s approval we went ahead. He asked that we keep it a secret, a wedding gift to you.”

“Frankie…” You turn to look at the man, seated in your wheelchair today, the custom one having come in just in time for you to have a particularly bad flare of immobility in your lower extremities. There was a ramp now, through the garage, you had insisted you preferred the porch to have the steps and not alter it. The couch out here replaced with a slightly larger one that was higher up from the ground so your hips didn’t hinge as much to get up and sit down in it.

“I know you said you like the kitchen as is, but I just asked them to install gliding racks for the lower cabinets and had them replace the island so one side is low enough for you to roll up to if you feel like baking and can’t get up on your legs that day. No big deal, sweet girl.”

“It was an easy thing, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel holds out a hand for you to take, Frankie watching diligently in case you trembled or dipped underneath your own weight. Your cane trading from his hand to Joel’s other and the older man leads you into the kitchen, since nothing was altered in the living room.

All new tile had been put down in the kitchen, the black and white stella star tiles you had torn yourself away from during a trip to the hardware store with the brothers when they caught up with you. The jade green backsplash you had taken a sample of gleamed to compliment the natural wooden cabinets that replaced the white ones that had previously been there. The countertops were now a white granite, the island indeed having been altered on one side.

“This is a little more than the island…”

“Was nothin’.” Tommy smiled as he opened up a lower cabinet and showed you the easy glide of the shelving put in place. “A baker has to have a kitchen that suits her.”

You feel tears prick hot and sticky behind your eyes, prompting Joel to stand right in front of you and tilt his head down to capture them. His eyes are so brown set into his handsome face and you feel heat rise to your face at being so close to him, acutely aware of Frankie just inside the threshold to the room with Tommy.

“We wanted to, all of us, okay? You’ve been dealt a harsh hand, darlin’. Wanted to bring some good into your life and we were able to, yeah? Besides, we’re gonna use the hell outta the photos we took for the business back home.” He hoped to lighten the mood, everyone relaxing when a giggle sprung from your lips as you wiped underneath your eyes.

“Papa! The house is so pretty!” Lex jostles Frankie as she hugs him tight around his legs. “It’s perfect for Mama Pastel!”

The small party is still going well into the night, the lights strung up all around the patio illuminating the jovial serenity. You feel the prickle of someone watching you and you turn from where you’re sitting to chat with Morgan who is seated across Santiago’s lap. Discussing possible dates for an end of the year trip out the cabin. Frankie is stood by the now cool grill, a beer in one hand and the other supporting the weight of Lex as she slumps against his chest with her face tucked over his shoulder. She’s tall for her age but not too small to be held by her father in the growing hour.

She should’ve been asleep an hour or so ago, but she had begged and pleaded to stay up ‘with the grown ups’. Taking her duty of ring bearer way more seriously than any of you had anticipated. Beside the man who is now your husband, stand Joel and you feel your stomach swoop at the sight of them together. Joel reaching out a hand to rub between the sleepy girl’s shoulders, words too low for you to hear from you spot. Both men chuckle, their teeth glinting as they share the moment.

Taylor saunters up to them both and you feel heat envelope you. You knew how two of them moved, how they felt, how they sounded. And the need to find out how Joel did too was strong. Guilt flared up at the direction your thoughts had taken. You were married now to such a loving and understanding, amazing man. But your body seemed to be out of your control as you felt something thrum through you at the sight of them all together chatting idly.

The memory of Frankie taunting you as he pinned you to the counter in the kitchen all those months ago springs up to the front of your depraved mind.

“Would you have let me take you in that store? While all those silly, jealous women watched? All those watching, dirty men palming themselves to the sight of you taking my cock in the middle of that aisle, pressed up against the shelves?” The tip of him caught on your entrance, and he pushed in, shallowly thrusting. He wasn’t giving you all of him, just teasing you open a little, waiting on an answer.

“Fuck, Frankie, yes.”

Frankie takes the last swig out of his bottle, Joel taking the empty glass from him and they share one last word before parting ways. Frankie brushes a hand over your shoulder as he passes, murmuring he’s going to lay Lex down and then he’ll be back. The other two men remain where they are by the grill, no doubt talking about the lumber and construction businesses they both are skilled in.

Sighing, you excuse yourself with the imitation of taking a drag from a cigarette and carefully make your way down the few steps into the yard. The grass is soft as it hushes over your sandaled feet, until you’re partially hidden off to the side underneath a tree. With another sigh you place the single cigarette you grabbed between your teeth and flick the lighter on. A few puffs into it and you’re startled by the sudden shadow of someone moving toward you.

“Sorry, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Joel’s deep timbre greet you as ducks underneath one of the lower hanging branches. Your body sings at his close proximity, fueled by the few drinks you had indulged in and the quick trigger of your arousal as of late. Heat spears through your middle and down to your core as he steps impossibly closer, hand reaching for the cigarette, his fingers nudging against your own as he takes it from you to take a drag for himself.

He smells like the grill, like the embers of charcoal and wood from the still burning fire in the pit on the deck, like the body wash he must’ve used earlier that day as he got ready for the celebration. He’s watching you like you’re watching him, eyes dragging over the displayed ink across your skin. The light color of your flowing dress highlighting the detailed blackwork set into your tanned skin. His eyes are impossibly brown even in the dim light, so much like Frankie’s. You feel connected to him in a way you can’t quite explain.

“Y’look real gorgeous, Pastel. Glad to play a part in today.” He’s of course referring to the arch he and Taylor had constructed for the small ceremony, both of them collaborating once your best friend had arrived in town a week ago with his own child. The niggling feeling of wanting to share in that part of their respective lives bubbled up and warmth bloomed in your chest, both of them and Frankie all such good fathers. You…wanted that. To be a mother. The thought always a far off one, but now…now it seemed all the more like a waiting game. Something only touched upon by both you and Frankie. You and Joel as he passed the time with you during the days you didn’t work and made sure the second set of Miller brother’s had lunch and cool drinks while they did.

Gratitude was barely a whisper as you watched him exhale another drag.

“Gonna miss seein’ ya when we go back home.”

“Maybe we can visit.” The words are out of your mouth before you realized they were something you wanted.

“I’d like that.” He murmured, mouth upturning on one end to reveal a dimple so much like Frankie’s. His fingers were gentle as he passed the cigarette back to you. Your breath hitched as he dipped his head low to press a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna shove off, the girls need to get to bed. We’re still on for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.” Another kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to titter to yourself for a few moments until you’re sure his little group is gone. When you step back onto the deck, Will and Isabella are gone as well as Santiago and Morgan. Benny and Taylor remain and you settle between them in an open chair.

“Hey Benny?”

“Yeah, mantequilla?”

“Thank you.” You reach out a hand to him and he takes it without question, his wide palm warm as it slides against your own. Taylor watches on with a smile on his face, fondness for you and the man who had extended his friendship to you in the time you had needed it most.

“Told you that first day you singed up for the gym, anythin’ you need.”

It’s depraved the way you move against him, desperate for him to touch you. He’s laughing as you trail sucking kisses down his neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. Your hands are on his waist, messing with the belt and buttons of his trousers before he can even take a breath to catch up to the way you’re moving against him.

“Frankie, I need you.”

“Okay, but let’s slow it down a little, we have all the time in the world.” His eyes had tracked you throughout the day, well into the night. On how you had leaned heavily on your cane for support as you stood beside him and exchanged rings underneath a beautiful arch covered in florals of soft colors. Of how you had been sat in each seat for long periods of time, how everyone seemed to read the same thing he had, that your body was aching.

“Nu-uh, not too sore for this.” Gently pressing your hands to his chest, you lean into him and he falls to the bed with a loud gasp.

“I’m not complaining, sweet girl. But what has gotten into you lately, you’re so eager.”

“I love you.” Pausing, you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. And then trepidation seeps in, taints the arousal that had been thrumming through your veins. You lean up and back away, standing a few feet from the foot of the bed where his legs hang over the mattress. Emotions being to swarm you, conflicting in their vie to be felt. Suddenly, you’re hiccupping, hands coming up to wipe at the tears threatening to fall. “Do…you not want me?”

“What? No! I-I…I’m just a little confused.” Frankie is quick to dispel your worries, to give you an honest answer. He’s sitting up, reaching for you. But you back away a few more steps and he let his hands fall.

“I know I’ve been a lot lately, between the renovations and the whole thing at the city hall, and- and- and the whole Joel thing. I don’t…I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately!” The tears are flowing now, your hands covering your face from view. “I feel so selfish…”

Your name falling from his lips grounds you, his body wrapping around your own even more so.

“You are not selfish, you are merely overwhelmed. It’s…it’s been a lot since the shooting. For you, especially.”

“Frankie, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Joel, he…he oy I feel so silly and…weird.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, oh sweet girl. Here,” He holds out his hands for you and you willingly drift closer to stand between his legs. Expression open and accepting, you can feel him searching for something he must see because his eyes soften. He skims his hands up your sides, soothing the ache he knows is there in your hips and the sudden burst of emotions he was beginning to wonder what the cause of was.

It’s slow, it’s scorching, it’s perfect the way he worships you. Your husband. Your future. Your life.

It’s stifling, in the room. Sweat glistening across your entire body as you submitted to the roll of hips pressed against you, the hands that held tight to you, the sucking lips that latched onto whatever it could reach. Both pairs. One below and one behind. Scruff burns sweetly over your chest and the back of your neck, pulling mewling moans from you. The drag of hard, silken skin in and out of you has you panting for breath when you manage to pull in a lungful, only to be thrust from you as two bodies move in tandem with your own.

The feeling of course hairs against your clit have you arching, chest pressing to the man beneath you and back against the man behind you as he drapes over you. You try to warm them, the feeling of being completely full too much for you to handle, pleasure courses harshly through you, almost painful in its intensity but all you manage is a choked off sound before you’re tensing and falling over the edge of it.

Eyes catching brown eyes watching in wonder as you fall apart in a glimpse before black sparks over your vision.

Gasping, you bolt up from where you lay in bed. Chest heaving and eyes blurry you look around the room to find yourself alone beneath the covers. You’re as bare as you were when Frankie undressed you the night before, only now your skin is glistening with sweat from the overwhelming heat of your rather salacious dreamworld. Catching your breath after a moment, you feel embarrassment at what your mind concocted flare. You…you were never really one for that adventurous of a sex life. But your body was changing as you got older, your mind running away and the startling realization that you may be into something as risqué as that….kind of settles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, urging you to rush from the tangled covers that no doubt aided the feeling of being pressed between two bodies in your dream. You barely make it to the bathroom in time, hips twinging with the sudden movement and the way your knees knock into the patterned tile of the floor.

Groaning, you submit to the idea that maybe work would be too much on your body today.

The next step of your life, the one you had curated with Frankie makes itself known only a few hours later.

It all makes so much sense, literally everything. The week following the visit to city hall and the party, you’re hurling the two sips of coffee and granola bar you had for breakfast into the kitchen sink. It had prompted you to run to the store, the new car so smooth and easier to manage than the truck with how sore your legs had been. Frankie was gone to work early, a sunrise flight tour scheduled and he had been the only one willing to take it. But maybe that was for the best because you felt like it would all be too much for him so witness the way you almost dazedly went about the errand and returned home.

Conversations had been surface level, more of a curious ‘what if’ than an actual conversation. A more in depth one with the doctors and the concerns they had should you end up in the situation you were in, if the piece of plastic on the vanity counter could be trusted. It had been advised that you really weight the pros and cons of wanting it, of how much you were willing to alter in order to make it a reality. There were no concerns for your health aside from the way it would affect your hips, the extra weight that would rise as it went on, the claim that the only way for a safe delivery would be to schedule a procedure.

From the cravings to the increased libido, to the nausea and the zipping emotions.

The way you had been easily riled up at the simplest things, the way everyone around you seemed to exude brimming sexual energy, the way your body had responded to not only Frankie, but Taylor and Joel. The bursts of energy combating the spells of next to no energy. The way you had been seeking out specific foods and feeling intense dislike for others. The annoyance that had flared up far too quick along with hurt and sadness at the most mundane instances. The tears you had shed while bidding both Taylor and his son goodbye after the celebration a few weeks ago and the Miller family before that.

Ears pricking at the sound of steps, you look up and see Frankie reflected in the mirror. He’s stood in the doorway with his brows furrowed in concern. You were supposed to have gone to the bakery today, but your rather hectic start had dissolved the idea completely.

Turning from the vanity, you pick up the thing that had been holding your attention. You brandish the small screen so he can see it from his spot, hand unconsciously going to your middle. He’s watching you closely, concerned as he looks over your face that breaks out into a watery smile. To the item in your grip. Frankie’s breath gasps as he reads what the screen has displayed and his own lips stretch out into a wide grin, adorable dimple on display.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant.”

previous chapter || end

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[shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow]

On the 22nd of November, 1718, Blackbeard would be killed off the coast of 'Ocacock' Island, along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Robert Maynard and his men had arrived the evening before, the fifty-seven men hidden aboard two chartered merchant sloops, and would wait for sun up before approaching the anchored sloop, Adventure, at Springer’s Point.

Blackbeard and his men were unaware of what was coming that morning, as reports state that in the aftermath of the battle that it was obvious that they had spent the night carousing, with the shoreline littered with campfires, sailcloth tents and awnings, and remnants of their last haul (consisting mostly of sugar and cocoa). Its been estimated by some that this was a temporary stop, another night on dry land before plans of heading to St. Thomas to pick up a letter of marque, enabling Blackbeard to once again perform legal privateering in the Caribbean; but this assumption is often disputed by historians as an addendum to make the reader want to sympathize with the villain.

The Ranger and the Jane, the outfitted merchant sloops, would make a hard turn larboard and make their way to Blackbeard’s anchorage. As for Blackbeard noting it, it would still be hard to tell what the intent was as the ships approached in the early light, as the island was a common stopping point for many travelers in need of fresh water. It would become apparent though once his crew would spot the glint of muskets and cutlasses and a number of men swarming the upper decks.

The Adventure sloop had nine mounted guns, but Blackbeard’s crew of sixteen men was severely outnumbered, three to one. According to accounts, Blackbeard reportedly would call out “If you shall leave us alone, we shall not meddle with you.” to which Maynard would reply “It is you we want and we will have you dead or alive.” The approaching ships would fly the British White Naval Ensign, but its authenticity would be questionable, as in theory anyone could fly any flag they had managed to have gotten a hold of.

Blackbeard was cornered in shallow water with no wind to escape. As a result, the order was given and the Adventure let loose a broadsides of “swan shot, spick nails, and pieces of old iron,” killing 11 and wounding 9 of Maynard’s men aboard the Ranger, lowering Maynard’s forces to forty-six. The ensuing battle would take an hour, a series of sailing maneuvers and gunfire, concluded by a final six minute battle of hand to hand combat, once the crew of the Adventure approached close and boarded the Jane.

More men rushed up from below to meet the boarders, and shortly afterwards, Blackbeard and nine of his crew laid dead on the decks, while Maynard and 11 of his men would only suffer injuries. The remaining six pirates would surrender, now that Blackbeard had fallen. These crewmembers would later be taken to Hampton, Virginia, by early 1719.

The fall of Blackbeard is a tale that many historians have taken artistic liberties with, many embellishing the story of the battle with many colorful tidbits, such as Blackbeard being a savage opponent, that he had been shot multiple times and cut repeatedly before finally going down in battle. The tale of the battle could also be fabricated with other claims, stating that he was a vicious foe, making their success all that more impressive. Or, its more likely those additions to the story were added in by Charles Johnson in his General History of the Pirates in 1724 as yet another colorful addition to help it sell. A number of times, Blackbeard had been shot before falling in melee combat.

The facts are that Maynard and his men had killed Blackbeard on November 22nd, with Blackbeard outnumbered, 16 to 57, and his broadside was able to reduce their numbers by 11 before boarding, where he and 9 others went down. The amount of re-tellings of this event are staggering, all with new ideas proposed, what was going through Blackbeard’s mind, what his intentions were, and many more minute details to the battle that could be fabricated. Chances are though, that someone is right about something.

Blackbeard’s head would be severed from his body while lifeless upon the deck, and displayed on the bowsprit as a trophy for the return trip back to Hampton, Virginia. His body would be tossed overboard. Folklore would even go on to state that the pirate captain’s headless body swam around the Ranger three times in search of its head before finally sinking to the depths, and rumors would persist of Blackbeard’s skull being used as a drinking chalice later on before dissappearing into someone’s private collection.

In any case, the waters around Ocracoke became the permanent resting ground for arguably history’s most famous pirate, the waters of which are now home to a multitude of legends regarding Blackbeard’s unresting soul seeking both his lost head, and his fabled “buried treasure.” Some folklore claims that his headless body later washed ashore Ocracoke and became buried on land.

Some would state that Blackbeard’s demise on this date brought about the end of the Golden Age of Piracy, or the beginning of the end - the loss of such a character striking the morale of other pirates out to sea, knowing that they were not in fact invincible. Accounts of piracy however would carry on well into 1730, with some more famous pirates who had yet to even begin their careers.

(Pictured is Blackbeard as portrayed in Black Sails by Ray Stevenson, a depiction of his final battle [from Netflix’s The Lost Pirate Kingdom, although they have depicted Maynard’s vessel too large], and an illustration of the Jane and Ranger’s angle of approach by Kevin Duffus in his 2008 book “The Last Days of Black Beard the Pirate”)

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: September 19, 2024

Reworked Character #4: Fio Germi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death and alcoholism.

Real name: Fiolina Hortensia Germi

Alias: Teatime in the Battlefield

Occupation: Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. and the medic of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a sports doctor and astrophysicist, open up a bakery, and start a family

Special skills: Chiropractic and massage therapy, medical training, housework, acupuncture, and astronomy

Hobbies: All types of sewing (hand sewing, machine sewing, embroidery, and quilting), ballroom dancing, giving her friends massages, cooking delicious meals and enjoying it on a picnic outside, and frequenting petting zoos, nature reserves, and art and outer space museums

Likes: Peppino (she had him since birth), her family heritage, the beauty of nature and outer space, baking cakes and other sweet treats, and Tarma (especially the sound of his voice, pleasant smile, jokes, and knack for building professional motorcycles)

Dislikes: The idea of Peppino being torn apart or stolen, scolding hot and freezing cold baths, the time she had to wear orthodontic braces, insects and creepy crawlies, and cheating

Favourite food: Homemade sandwiches and gelato

Favourite drink: Ice tea (preferably Queen Mary)

Sexuality: Heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (in 2022), 21 (in 2028), 23 (in 2030), 25 (in 2032), 27 (in 2034), 34 (in 2041), 36 (in 2043), 37 (in 2044), and 40 (in 2047)

Blood type: O+

Weight: 145 lbs. (66 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 2” (157.48 cm) Italian mesomorph with sloping shoulders, upper arms that carry some of her weight, a bit of belly fat, voluptuous breasts and hips, and prominent thighs. She has pale ivory skin, droopy blue-grey eyes, and brownish freckles scattered across her face and neck. Fio has a tad messy orangish-brown hair with blunt bangs and straight strands that fall just above her shoulders, but she prefers to keep it tied up in a ponytail. Her fingernails are painted an English lavender hue, and she wears thick, winged dark brown eyeliner, a soft rosy red blush on her cheeks and nose, and cherry blossom pink lip gloss. As a result of battle injuries and her own clumsiness, she bears a bullet wound near the centre of her left calf and numerous cut marks, stab scars, and scrapes on her arms and legs.

Her military gear consists of polarised, silver-plated transition lens eyeglasses, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a cordovan Eisenhower jacket. She wears a pink lavender T-shirt with a dogwood rose stripe running along the front and a carmine bra underneath. She wears carmine gloves and a gold-buckled leather belt to secure her ebony army cargo shorts, which fall just above her knees. She also wears ebony paratrooper boots, dogwood rose knee and elbow pads, and over-the-calf bittersweet shimmer socks. She has a khaki waist pack attached to the front of her belt, which carries her nail polish, lip gloss, eyeliner, two makeup brushes (a large one and a small one), a makeup sponge, and a powder blush palette.

She wears a leather sheath for her hatchet, a gun holster for her handgun, and a holder for her tonfa. The pockets of Fio's Eisenhower jacket carry around Peppino, her beloved greyish-brown teddy bear with a pearlescent blue bowtie, a red wooden maneki-neko figurine with its right arm raised and its left paw holding a koban coin (a gift from Eri), and a deck of cards. The pockets of her army cargo shorts carry a canister of pepper spray, a Ventolin inhaler, a bottle of azithromycin pills, and a bottle of specialised prescription supplements specifically designed to manage her cystic fibrosis.

Over her T-shirt, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. Her black ammunition bandolier is slung over her right shoulder, and the back of her Eisenhower jacket features an embroidered S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo. Fio carries an ebony load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, fire bombs, stones, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a picnic basket filled with prepared sandwiches, two machine guns, medical supplies, and a scientific telescope. She always wears a pair of teardrop-shaped pink opal earrings and a gold chain necklace featuring a red coral cornicello amulet, believed to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune. She also wears a khaki army cap that once belonged to her father during his military service, personalised with a rosy pink patch depicting a European bee-eater perched on a tree branch on the front.

Personality: She's initially reserved and timid around strangers but warms up and opens up once she becomes familiar with new people. She's a compassionate, considerate, and overly cautious listener who's really good with children and lends everyone a generous helping hand. She's sensitive and unafraid to show her true emotions, often engaging in introspective thought. Despite her quiet and calm demeanour, she's surprisingly prone to stress and anxiety, particularly when confronted with obnoxious noises or situations where she can't escape. Even though she's a seasoned warrior, she harbours an intense fear of insects and creepy crawlies, often resorting to hiding behind Tarma, Marco or Eri and insisting they handle the situation. On occasion, she displays an almost childlike naivety and exuberance, typically after completing a mission or while off duty.

She's a very friendly and gentle clean freak who'll do anything to help out her family, friends, comrades, and those in need. She prepares all her meals with love and dedication, considering others' likes and dislikes, hoping they'll enjoy what she's made. When talking to others, she often uses lively hand gestures and animated facial expressions to emphasise certain ideas. She gets easily flustered by compliments and flirtatious advances, blushing deeply and becoming nearly speechless. She's a somewhat superstitious person, believing in things like placing one's hat on a bed being a sign of bad luck for homeowners and spilling salt being a harbinger of financial troubles. She's a nature-loving girl who's incredibly clever and always thinks optimistically. She's a great strategist who excels in keep-away tactics. However, she often pushes people away due to fear and isn't the most skilled fighter, but can fight when necessary.

Whenever she's faced with the death of a child, a comrade or friend being severely injured, being touched inappropriately or being rudely insulted, her face darkens. She becomes cold-hearted and deadly serious, and her tactical prowess shines through most. She's quite curious around strangers, nervously trailing them and asking a few questions to get to know them. Despite cherishing the importance of friendship, she sometimes feels isolated by her exceptional intelligence, privileged upbringing, and cystic fibrosis. She values maintaining a healthy work-life balance and prioritising her time with loved ones, holding both in higher regard than success. She believes that living in or exploring beautiful places helps her become a better person by gaining a deeper appreciation of the world around her.

She originally harboured romantic feelings for Marco, but they dissipated after he disclosed that he isn't interested in romantic and sexual relationships. Her affections eventually shifted to Tarma, whom she found charming due to his silliness, emotional intelligence, Hokkaido dialect, and the soothing sound of his voice. She finds immense comfort in Tarma's presence and often offers him solace when he's having a rough day or struggling with self-doubt. After her romantic relationship with Tarma fully blossoms, she forms an exceptionally close physical and emotional bond with him. However, her tendency to become overly attached manifests at times, especially when feelings of fear or loneliness arise.

She eventually enters into a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Marco and Tarma, which she deeply cherishes and further satisfies her craving for emotional intimacy. She's displeased when Nadia takes advantage of her kindness to avoid responsibilities. Additionally, she's frustrated by Eri's overprotectiveness, especially when it comes to Tarma, as it reminds her of her father's behaviour and makes her feel like she's being treated like a child.

When she's reached her limit, feels threatened or needs to express her authentic feelings about something that gets under her skin, she's capable of standing up for herself and making her voice heard. She rarely swears, but when someone's pushed her too far, she'll unleash a stern reprimand, peppered with profanities in Italian. She's not fond of drinking alcohol due to its bitter taste and intoxicating effects, which make her feel nauseous and slightly nervous. However, on rare occasions, she’ll let loose and indulge in alcohol with her friends, especially after a challenging mission. When intoxicated, she starts to act playful, flirtatious and sexually teasing towards Tarma, obnoxiously loud, agitated, and bluntly honest. 

She has a tendency to fall asleep extremely quickly at bedtime or naptime, and her loud snoring can be disruptive to others who are trying to rest or focus on important tasks in the same room. She believes that war serves no purpose other than to be destructive, resulting from conflicts that escalate beyond the control of free will. In her view, war profoundly alters the moral fabric of society, while accelerating the advancement of weaponry and technology used in conflict. She’s a firm believer in virtue ethics who holds that life is more powerful than death, as it continually finds innovative ways to adapt and flourish.

Backstory: Fiolina Hortensia Germi was born on October 2, 2007 in Genoa, Italy. The Germi family is renowned for their vast wealth, military service, and philanthropic endeavours. Originally merchants and nobles, they amassed their fortune in the Mediterranean region during the Age of Exploration and have since maintained their wealth, now managing various corporations and philanthropic organisations. True to their militaristic heritage, the Germis have participated in numerous conflicts, including the Napoleonic Wars of the 1800s, the Italian Unification Wars of the 19th century, and modern-day wars against terrorism worldwide. Sadly, many Germi warriors lost their lives, leading to an important family custom where the chosen heir of the Germi family must serve in the military.

Alessandro Germi, Fio's father, was a fearsome soldier in the Regular Army in his earlier years, serving alongside Fabriclus Roving. However, he was forced to leave military service after being severely injured during a shootout, which left him crippled and suffering from debilitating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). After returning to civilian life and receiving proper support, Alessandro successfully restored his family's struggling business. He also started a family with his beloved wife, Giulietta, a talented seamstress and manager of a luxurious art museum.

Alessandro's wish was to have a healthy son as he feared that sending a daughter onto the battlefield would be a perilous ordeal. To his surprise and dismay, Giulietta gave birth to a daughter, and due to health complications, she couldn't bear any more children. Fio's mother would also experience postpartum depression after childbirth and passed down a disease that runs deep within their heritage: cystic fibrosis. Alessandro's deep-seated fears for Fio's safety often led him to become overly protective, causing tension with his wife, Giuliette, who found his helicopter parenting suffocating.

Despite her parents' mental health struggles, they went above and beyond to care for her, providing unwavering love and support. For half of her elementary school years, she was homeschooled with her parents teaching a diverse range of subjects, including mathematics. They encouraged Fio’s appreciation for friendships, the outdoors, and the finer things in life. They even fostered her love of astronomy, gifting her a scientific telescope on her 10th birthday, which she still has to this day. Giulietta often took her on enriching outings to nature reserves and art museums, where she learned about biology and art history. Her mother also taught her the importance of domestic duties, showing her how to do her chores and clean the house. On special occasions, her mother would dress her up in pretty dresses and give her adorable animal plushies, which she still keeps.

She was bullied and exploited by the other children because of her wealthy status and overt politeness, but her father and teachers consistently intervened. As she grew, she discovered her own voice, learning to assert herself with courage and conviction. Standing up to her bullies with firm yet gentle confidence, she effectively silenced their taunts and earned respect. Like Marco, Fio excelled in all her classes, demonstrating exceptional academic prowess and a deep appreciation for effort and lifelong learning. However, her life took a devastating turn near the end of her secondary school days. A sudden and tragic terrorist airstrike, attributed to the Ptolemaic Army, struck Genoa, Italy, claiming Giulietta among its many victims. Her father was the most affected by this loss, turning to a life of alcoholism and self-isolation. Although Alessandro still cared about Fio and tried his best to support her, his alcoholism and newfound self-isolating behaviour made it challenging for him to do so.

It took time for Fio and Alessandro to heal from this loss, but they remained resilient. To cope with the loss of her mother, she turned to sewing, baking, and reading books on ancient and modern medical practices. Eventually, Alessandro sought help and went to rehab and therapy to address his issues with Fio's support and encouragement. After graduation, Fio was awarded multiple awards and scholarships, which enabled her to attend university. There, she pursued an interdisciplinary course of study, exploring chiropractics, acupuncture, physics, and astronomy.

Fio would eventually express her interest in joining the military after coming across a persuasive flyer to serve in the Regular Army. This revelation horrified Alessandro, as he didn't want to send his only child off to the battlefield, risking her life. He wanted to disregard the Germi's military traditions, believing that war is repugnant and a never-ending cycle of hate and violence. Alessandro tried to deter Fio from joining, but she persisted, driven by her desire to join the fight against terrorism and protect the lives of innocent people. He reluctantly agreed and sent her off to the military at the age of 19, but attempted to minimise her risk by using his connections and friends from his own military days to secure her a desk job, hoping to keep her out of harm's way and away from the front lines.

However, everything changed when a paperwork mistake caused by militant bureaucracy resulted in Fio's transfer to the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., a special operations branch of the Regular Army's Intelligence Agency known for carrying out high-risk missions. Surprisingly, Fio was ecstatic to hear the news as she had been eager to be deployed on the battlefield and make a real difference. In contrast, her father was furious and stormed into military headquarters, threatening officers in an attempt to prevent his daughter from being shipped to the front lines.

He would often try to extract Fio from the battlefield, but she consistently resisted. Eventually, she had enough of his overprotectiveness and bravely told him that this was what she wanted—to fight on the battlefield and provide medical aid. She assured him that she was capable of handling herself. Alessandro finally understood and let her pursue her life as a military woman. In return, she promised to keep in touch with him after each mission, providing him with reassurance and comfort.

Like Eri, she played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with useful intel on Rebel Army positions. She also dedicated herself to providing medical support for Marco's team, which led to her being recognized as the medic for the Peregrine Falcons Squad. Her countless battles against worldwide criminality, terrorism, and corruption enabled her to rapidly rise through the ranks, becoming the Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. However, her time in the military has taught her a harsh reality: even the good guys can't always protect the innocent or save their friends and comrades. She has witnessed many deaths and severe injuries that left people crippled and traumatised in each battle. Nevertheless, with the emotional support of friends like Eri and Tarma, she has persevered and continues fighting to this day.