#weekly theme: love languages

[hmshermitcraft]

Grian’s love language is gift-giving, a common aspect of being an avian.

He is not used people actually treasuring the lovely-looking but ultimately worthless trinkets he gives them. He continues to give anyway, even knowing how they’re thrown away afterwards.

Then Mumbo enters the scene, and oh boy does he build a storage room just for his gifts from Grian, even going as far as to make a new one every season once they’re both on hermitcraft.

ft. Acts of Service love language Mumbo

-TeratoTomato

Mumbo even tries to reciprocate, buying small things he thinks Grian will like. He's not the best at it, but Grian appreciates the effort either way. Mumbo tries to help him pick gifts for other people too, sometimes!

Grian just likes to see Mumbo using the gifts he buys. Sure, maybe he bought one or two prank ones, but Mumbo treasures those all the same. They have good memories attached to them! Memories of shared laughter and smiles.

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison),  jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love). 

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only). 

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.” 

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.” 

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language. 

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.” 

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees. 

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it? 

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam. 

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him. 

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.” 

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction. 

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff. 

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband. 

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley. 

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school. 

Dear Jeon family,  Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.  It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.  Sincerely,  Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless. 

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life. 

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.” 

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school. 

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering. 

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache. 

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes. 

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands. 

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question. 

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person. 

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend. 

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?  

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”  “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”  “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh” 

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod. 

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month. 

“What do you think about this guy?” 

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.” 

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.” 

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?” 

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?” 

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app. 

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority. 

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines. 

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes. 

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice. 

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.” 

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations? 

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.” 

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence. 

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.” 

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.” 

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss. 

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again. 

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is? 

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that. 

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle. 

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are. 

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time. 

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen. 

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh. 

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring. 

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).” 

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him? 

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know. 

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone. 

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency. 

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet. 

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates. 

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.” 

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes. 

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood. 

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old. 

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her. 

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart. 

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?” 

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body. 

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter. 

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again. 

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body. 

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right. 

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution? 

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t. 

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips. 

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him. 

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers. 

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.  

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy. 

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness. 

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there. 

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek. 

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically. 

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really. 

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides. 

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation. 

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.” 

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?” 

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features. 

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?” 

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.” 

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips. 

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.” 

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word. 

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?” 

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.” 

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice. 

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks. 

Dammit. He’s cute. 

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip. 

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head. 

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.” 

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single. 

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes. 

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.” 

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news. 

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment. 

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with. 

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy. 

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?” 

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled. 

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness. 

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal. 

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it. 

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short. 

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched. 

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance? 

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions. 

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.” 

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.” 

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real. 

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the  board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.” 

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?” 

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.” 

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself. 

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.” 

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo. 

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー” 

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?” 

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.” 

“y/n!” 

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears. 

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag. 

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together. 

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.” 

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress. 

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief. 

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.” 

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts. 

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.” 

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!” 

Ouch. That hurts. 

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses. 

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes. 

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano. 

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.  

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man? 

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint. 

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing. 

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him. 

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act. 

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!” 

“And he’s hot!” 

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later. 

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about. 

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias. 

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this. 

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it. 

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase. 

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison. 

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile. 

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close. 

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward. 

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes. 

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk. 

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose. 

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head. 

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.” 

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength. 

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.” 

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile. 

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his. 

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action. 

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. 

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close. 

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles. 

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. 

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.” 

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out. 

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.” 

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.” 

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks. 

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle. 

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?” 

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.” 

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought. 

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question. 

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation. 

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you. 

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better. 

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions. 

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?” 

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?” 

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had. 

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe. 

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum. 

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core). 

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever. 

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms. 

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true. 

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.  

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day. 

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange. 

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required. 

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does. 

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!” 

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is. 

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire. 

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul. 

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy. 

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table. 

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you. 

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-” 

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.” 

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system. 

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family. 

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy. 

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines. 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump. 

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest. 

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept. 

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.” 

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?” 

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother. 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.” 

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does. 

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall. 

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.” 

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night. 

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.” 

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book. 

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff. 

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?” 

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room. 

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos. 

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?” 

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.” 

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.” 

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip. 

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand. 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives. 

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway. 

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts. 

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.” 

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine. 

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo. 

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire? 

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw. 

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board. 

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes. 

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.” 

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips. 

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder. 

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.” 

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him. 

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you. 

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there. 

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself. 

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.” 

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter. 

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to. 

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice. 

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. 

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed. 

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-” 

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks. 

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl. 

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises. 

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table. 

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.” 

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.” 

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying. 

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside. 

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.” 

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about? 

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you. 

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning. 

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?” 

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears. 

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts. 

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back. 

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.” 

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks. 

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-” 

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night? 

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it. 

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again. 

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception). 

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.” 

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back. 

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?” 

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned. 

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained. 

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no? 

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.” 

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again. 

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted. 

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.” 

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?” 

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him. 

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores. 

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night. 

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders. 

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.” 

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.” 

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top. 

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference. 

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now. 

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.” 

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.” 

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?” 

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day. 

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks. 

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction. 

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn. 

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life. 

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast. 

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right? 

 “Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream. 

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries. 

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.” 

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?” 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away. 

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe. 

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does. 

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely. 

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle. 

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?” 

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share. 

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.” 

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?” 

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?” 

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle. 

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?” 

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.” 

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers. 

This is still practice… right? 

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment. 

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly. 

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him. 

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush. 

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest. 

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?” 

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.” 

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you. 

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic. 

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you. 

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action. 

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want. 

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work. 

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper. 

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.” 

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn. 

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day. 

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Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.  My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.  I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.  Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.  But lately, being with him brings me to life.  Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.  Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other. 

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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.  Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.  Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.  Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.  But it’s not true.  I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.  I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.  It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.  There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem. 

Jeongguk is late. 

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong. 

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most? 

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat. 

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends. 

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face. 

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking. 

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay. 

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together. 

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place? 

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.” 

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.” 

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles. 

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out. 

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.” 

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace. 

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry. 

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently  move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband. 

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator. 

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago. 

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him. 

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring. 

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time. 

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape. 

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting. 

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.” 

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm. 

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?” 

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?” 

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it. 

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes. 

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that. 

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools. 

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing. 

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand. 

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship? 

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen. 

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while. 

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love. 

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?” 

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question. 

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks. 

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.” 

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs. 

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him. 

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.” 

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention? 

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess. 

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk. 

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex. 

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…” 

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-” 

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort. 

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.” 

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice. 

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.  

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away. 

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay. 

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care. 

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better. 

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors. 

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him. 

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room. 

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom. 

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face. 

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?” 

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine. 

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.  

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes. 

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck. 

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.” 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders. 

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.” 

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters. 

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out. 

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate. 

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.” 

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek. 

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming. 

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself. 

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you. 

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?” 

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders. 

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.” 

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?” 

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.” 

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth. 

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice. 

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart. 

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips. 

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading. 

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers. 

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were. 

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.” 

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control. 

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips. 

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.” 

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him. 

So you do. 

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment. 

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes. 

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips. 

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions. 

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.” 

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance. 

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?” 

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.” 

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do. 

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more. 

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to? 

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail. 

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips. 

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined. 

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him? 

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…” 

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.” 

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection. 

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?” 

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.” 

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together. 

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.” 

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges. 

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away. 

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him. 

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.” 

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs. 

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through. 

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs. 

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost. 

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor. 

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless. 

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?” 

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his. 

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom. 

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.” 

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body. 

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound. 

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.” 

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides. 

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.  

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off. 

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body. 

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours. 

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate. 

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional. 

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you. 

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love. 

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light. 

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.” 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting. 

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock. 

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste. 

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.  

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.” 

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him. 

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source. 

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before? 

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third. 

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers. 

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt. 

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody. 

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline. 

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head. 

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?” 

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch. 

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock. 

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.” 

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses. 

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur. 

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-” 

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt. 

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans. 

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy. 

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure. 

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires. 

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.” 

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls. 

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” 

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife. 

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him. 

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses. 

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him. 

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch. 

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.” 

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion. 

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion. 

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere. 

“How’s it, angel?” 

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth. 

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. 

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg. 

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.” 

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess. 

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. 

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess. 

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now. 

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow. 

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high. 

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.” 

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go. 

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length. 

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all. 

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four. 

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you. 

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?” 

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life. 

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel. 

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind. 

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?” 

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference. 

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives. 

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school? 

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family. 

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire). 

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment. 

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school. 

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-” 

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?” 

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper. 

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.” 

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table. 

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay. 

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask. 

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?” 

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement. 

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.” 

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills. 

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action. 

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace. 

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room. 

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle. 

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it. 

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.” 

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-” 

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you? 

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.” 

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?” 

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction. 

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did. 

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter. 

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey. 

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble. 

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.” 

[northopalshore]

🎐6th House Synastry: Acts of service

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Opener:

🍃 Someone's stellium in your 6th house & vice versa is honestly one of my favourite things to see in a romantic synastry chart. The amount of times I've seen this just written down as one person being enslaved to the other person is crazy.

🍃Of course it could be the case if other aspects line up or if this is a synastry chart between an employee and their boss but it's not going to be like that for every person reading. Especially not in a romantic/close relationship.

🍃Depending on the rest of your charts of course, this could also mean that both parties will make an excellent team i.e doing housework, handling chores, groceries and children if they have any.

🍃There is a theme of acts of service as a means to show how much they care for each other. At first, the stellium person/planet person will feel a natural pull to help the house person be it with the smallest things in their life. It sort of develops into a habit. As time progresses, this habit will also latch onto the house person as they see it is a natural way to reciprocate the appreciation towards the stellium/planet person.

🍃This is common in synastry charts of people who have been married for a very long amount of time.

🍃This is because the 6th house represents daily life. Having someone's personal planets in your 6th house means that part of their lives ( depending on the planet ) fits naturally into your daily routine. Common in couples who are mature & devoted to each other, not the fling type honestly.

Planets in the 6th house

🧤 Having their Sun in your 6th house:

means that their identity, their ego, and self expression align with your daily life. They could enjoy being around you every day even when all you're doing together is laying around watching a streaming service. It's important for them to feel needed & appreciated by the 6th house person.

🧤 Their Moon in your 6th house:

You'll love having each other around to cope with the stress of your daily lives. The moon person uses acts of service as a way to show their closeness or appreciation to you. Feeling loved by being cared for.

🧤 Their Saturn in your 6th house:

You'll feel like they bring stability into your life. If you're the type to lose track of your medication, they will be the ones to remind you or even buy you one of those weekly pill capsules. How cute!

🧤 Their Mars in your 6th house:

The mars person will be a motivator & protector to the 6th house person. They may encourage you to be more physically active, taking care of your physical needs. Going on walks together, going to the gym together. They may also be quite possessive of your time i.e prefer not to share one on one time with other people.

🧤 Their Mercury in your 6th house:

They love giving you advice on how to improve your health, work ethics, and routine. They could unconsciously be thinking about your wellbeing when you are apart.

🧤 Their Venus in your 6th house:

They could love to have dates at home, spa nights, their perfect date plan would include a long deep soak in the bath with rose petals & bubbles in the water after a long hard day at work. Both will be on similar wavelength in terms of love languages. Bringing home flowers, building furniture to help you organise your stuff.

🧤 Their Uranus in your 6th house:

They might shake up your routine in a way. (i.e before you met you just stayed home all day and now you're going out with them more often)

🧤 Their Pluto in your 6th house:

They'll change the way you live, or you work. They could either make it easier i.e taking all the responsibility away from you by providing so you don't have to work, or add an extra person to your routine i.e them lol.

🧤 Their Jupiter in your 6th house:

They could bring luck into your work life, & may expand your to-do list i.e adding events into your life. You'll find that they are very supportive of you & may spoil you with material things. They may add emphasis into this aspect of your life i.e overindulgence in healthcare, over exercising depending on other aspects. They will act as a friend & guide to you when it comes to work, chores & health.

🧤 Their Chiron in your 6th house:

Their presence is very healing to the 6th house person. They may teach you whatever has plagued your mind about chores will not harm you anymore i.e growing up in a misogynistic household where you had to do all the chores. They could experience some fatigue in this area however. Perhaps they may be feeling overworked too if there is no reciprocation in terms of helping the other with housework.

🧤 Their Neptune in your 6th house:

Playing music could be a theme when doing housework together or when on dates together. There could be an emphasis on religion or spirituality between the both of you. Their presence may be very healing or vice versa in your routine.

The difference i.e how this overlay plays out between the couple depends on the sign the 6th house is under.

🌬️ Aries:

6th house in the signs

They might be quite fussy when it comes to chores. Wanting everything to be done quickly & not necessarily tidy. They will be the first to do anything for the 6th house person however, even if they complain about disliking it.

🌬️ Taurus :

Very romantic. The planet person may love cooking for the 6th house person. They may prefer to do chores when they are together instead of doing it alone.

🌬️ Gemini:

The planet person may give a lof of advice to the 6th house person helping them find better ways to do their routine i.e teaching them better folding methods to save their time. They'll add more entertainment & enthusiasm to the 6th house person's routine.

🌬️ Cancer:

Very soft, caring & gentle. Both parties want to provide eachother with as much affection and comfort into their routine/daily life as possible.

🌬️ Leo:

The planet person takes a very romantic & flamboyant approach into caring for the 6th house person. Both parties will enjoy adding fun & romance into their daily routine.

🌬️ Virgo:

Similar to Aries in which they can act tsundere about doing chores, however, there is this natural affinity to wanting to do things for the 6th house person. Making sure everything is done perfectly. They want to be seen as valuable to their partner.

🌬️ Libra:

Similar to Taurus. Both parties make sure that nobody feels underappreciated. Meaning the 6th house person will do just as much as the planet person does for them.

🌬️ Scorpio:

When the planet person starts doing things for you, you better acknowledge that they consider you as someone to love in the long-term. They may prefer to do things that nobody else would do for the 6th house person.

🌬️ Sagittarius:

They may enjoy taking you out on spontaneous dates often. Getting you out of the house or out of a rut. When doing chores, they'll try to make it as entertaining as possible.

🌬️ Capricorn:

Sugar daddy/mommy vibes lol. The planet person will likely enjoy doing most of the traditional responsibilities in a partnership i.e paying for dates, taking care of the house.

🌬️ Aquarius:

Adding spontaneity into the 6th house person's life i.e unplanned dates. Being more rebellious & innovative in terms of work . Preferring to dress up strangely (costumes) at home while doing the dishes lol.

🌬️ Pisces:

They may romanticise their chores, daily life & routine. Adding more spiritual or religious aspects into the house person's life. They may prefer to indulge eachother in holistic healing over modern healthcare.

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*** entertainment purposes only: reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ⁠♡

@northopalshore

[carnalactivities]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : a lot :P

[ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬. ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : innocent y/n x priest Ransom Drysdale

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Ransom helps a young choir girl fulfill God's will.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Non/dubcon, religious themes, age gap, fingering, vaginal sex, virginity loss, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, corruption kink, manipulation, explicit language, slight dd/lg (mostly just dd), degrading, smut, 18+.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Do not copy, translate, or repost my work as your own. this book does contain dark themes. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you. i have had this plot for awhile and literally froze when i realized Ransom embodied this role. i took my time and care for this work. i know tis’ is long but please bare with me. since it is my first posted work, i wanted to make it count. all love and light ~ always, always, always ~ A

"He hath come to the bosom of His beloved.

Smiling on him, He beareth him to highest heav'n."

The youths choir singing echoed throughout the church. Not a corner free from their angelic tones. Though the choir ranged from ages, the difference of genders were noted by the boys standing tall in the back and the girls in the front. All of their faces were recognizable to him now, since he was present for most of their rehearsals before every Sunday, but your face had always stood out to him from the beginning. Even now you outshined the rest of your peers- by both voice and presence.

But even still Ransom watched you from the corner of the chapel, hidden in the shadows. Yes, he did appear every now and then during their rehearsals for appraisal or even just the view, which was always you. But when he watched you perform, he didn’t want to constantly be observing the other pupils as well. He wanted only to watch you and this dark archway was perfect for that.

Most nights he lay in his bed, trying to push out the thoughts of everything his life lacked now. Everything he had before, he quickly realized how much he had taken for granted during his first night in that dim and barely furnished apartment. To consider it a home would be charity in itself, but he couldn’t afford much more. He had lost everything when he came here a few months ago.

He came here on the run, wanted for murder though he wasn't responsible for it. It was an accident. A mistake.

Sometimes his brain got so clouded and he got aggressive. He always seemed to lose himself in those moments but he never mean't for Jonie to fall like she had. He remembered standing over her body, realizing what he had done. There was no mistaking the empty look in her eyes.

So he ran.

There was no time for alibis, he had a mile long trail of proof behind him, so he outsmarted them. His family all knew his patterns and lifestyle, and it didn’t make it any easier that they all probably would’ve gladly sent him behind bars. So he went to the last place any of them would’ve suspected: to church.

Tricking the deacons was a lot easier than he had thought. He figured they would've wanted some sort of resume, but they were so desperate for a new father that they were putting a robe on him that day.

Becoming a preacher was more work than he had signed up for though. He had to prepare a weekly sermon, bless the sick, baptize sinful, visit the poor, help the elderly- the list seemed to be never ending. Not even to mention he was paid a set salary, a percentage already taken out to help provide not only for the church but also for the poor and elderly. And on top of all the things he had to add to his life, there was about ten fold of things he had to remove : sex, language, drugs, alcohol....sex.

It was humiliating that a man of his stature had resorted to his right hand. He hadn’t used his own hand to finish since he was 16. Once he lost his virginity, and experienced real pleasure? There was no need to go back to such desperate measures. But here in this small town, there was no slew of women ready at his feet and word seemed to travel fast. He learned that when he had walked into the chapel and the whole congregation was waiting for him with open arms once they heard of their new pastor. He couldn’t risk his position now because of a few(most) horny nights.

But when he met the choir that day as well and your face eagerly peered up at him? It was a shimmer of light in his very dark tunnel.

He let his thoughts wander to you some nights and it helped him cope. How your voice rang higher than the rest of the choir. How your face scrunched in concentration when you sang. How sometimes when you would sing a solo or a particular high note your eyes would open and your cheeks would flush with embarrassment as if you weren’t stealing the breath out of everyone watching. How Ransom was sure you made the exact same face when you came as he fisted his cock at night.

Because though Random didn’t know your name, he had watched you long enough to actually know you.

You didn’t like the spotlight. You would much rather be apart or even behind the crowd rather than in the center-but never a follower either.

You were quiet, observant. When the director gave criticism you took it eagerly, always seeking to please. To improve.

You were never late, either. Never missed a practice session. You never complained neither. Not when rehearsals ran long or if the director was particularly impatient some days.

And all of these qualities came wrapped up in a cute lil’ innocent body. Because though Ransom noted these things about you, and saw the potential for his own personal use, it was initially your body that he had noted.

Your presence so delicate and naive. When his eyes had met yours for the first time, your smile had that perfect pleasing tilt. But your eyes had that glint in them. Knowing. Teasing. Practically speaking to him.

Take me.

Fuck me.

Break me.

And he wanted to. Right then and there. Even in front of your parents. But he just shook your hand and introduced himself. And because he was so occupied with how your hand felt in his, he had completely missed your name.

He regretted it that was for sure. He racked and racked his brain. Even tried to picture names just as perfect as you, but none fit. For months he wanted to rectify that. He needed a name for his little girl but he had yet to find it. But today he planned to change that.

Just your name, that was all he needed. And as Random stepped out of his alcove and headed past the pews towards the foyer door casually, he knew today was going to be that day.

“A little off key, altos but! I am highly impressed with how all of you have gracefully learned this song. I know when ya’ll are prepared, the congregation will love this hymn!” The choir directors voice called behind Ransom as he reached the last pew. He heard the movement of feet and knew the choir was already descending off of the stage towards where their belongings lay strewn in the front pews.

“Alright, great work today you guys! Remember to rehearse and memorize this Sunday’s hymns at least once this weekend. I will see you all Sunday at 9:00!” As the director finished speaking to his students, Ransom turned and tucked his hands into his pockets in a casual stance next to the opening of the foyer. The church opened before him and he watched as all the choir readied themselves to leave for the evening.

The students were quick to pull off their robes and stuff them in their bags that they brought, all chattering with each other. Some were already heading towards the entrance of the building, either with each other or alone but all still moving with quick steps. As they neared Ransom and passed him, a forced smile took over his lips and he gave words of encouragement and thanks to the choir as they passed him. Some responded, some simply just smiled in response to him but Random couldn’t have cared less.

His gaze kept returning to you, still at the front of the pews, carefully hanging your robe on a hanger and placing it in a bag you had brought with you. You weren’t in a hurry like the rest of the choir. Well not enough to crumple your robe in the process. Ransom loved that. You were patient. Sure minded. Never mind that you were the last one left, no, you would take your time.

Ransom watched as two kids, giggling and running down the center aisle, approached him. One chasing the other but as they headed straight for Ransom and the exit he heard your voice call out softly.

“Please don’t run in the building guys!” It was soft, silky, heaven to his ears. Sounding just like when you sing, and Ransom had to stop himself from letting a possessive growl escape his throat. He wanted to hear your words directed at him and even though he was craving your attention more than ever, he couldn’t help but note your words.

You had wanted those kids to listen to you, but you didn’t command them. You had barely even lifted your voice, you weren’t used to speaking above others. Ransom took it for what he knew it to be: you didn’t want to be the one to order others, you needed to be ordered yourself. Mentally Ransom checked off another box that you filled and he couldn’t help but think you were made for him.

You approached Ransom down the aisle and his hands curled into fists in his pockets as he took in your outfit.

You were wearing a form fitted top: a similar one he would wear when he worked out except he always opted for black whereas you wore white. And you paired it with a matching white tennis skirt. The skirt only reached down mid thigh and all that leg was going to be his downfall. Ransom noted your tennis shoes and socks that were also white and if he believed in angels- this was as close as he was ever going to get to one.

“I apologize for the kids running.” You smiled up at him, your eyebrows down in apology and your lips only slightly tilted up.

“Don’t be.” Ransom quickly responded. He forgot about his thoughts just heartbeats before and focused his attention solely on you for right now. “It’s not like it is your fault, right? Plus, I like to think of our church as a home. Though reverence is due, I enjoy to see when our members are relaxed as well.” His imsuchaforgivingandcomfortingmanbecauseimaholypriest attitude had always come naturally to Ransom since it was everything he was not.

“I love that.” Your eyes lit up as you clutched your robe to your chest as it rested over your arm. Though quickly your eyes lost the light in them as you seemed to remember something. Your smile slowly fell as well and your attention turned to your shoes below you.

Ransoms eyebrows scrunched and he couldn’t help but reach for you. His hand caught the bottom of your chin and he eased your face back up to meet his eyes again. Though portraying the perfect appearance of worry, Ransoms was fighting to urge to lift his thumb higher and catch your bottom lip. Maybe even to just cup your face. Anything, anything, to have more contact with you.

“What is it?” He asked you softly.

“I…” Your voice was so soft and hesitant. “I need to speak with you.”

Ransoms eyebrows lifted in surprise, that was certainly not what he figured you would say.

“Well i’m right here. You’re welcome to say whatever you need to.” Princess.

You turned your head, Ransoms hand falling from your chin, your eye line aimed at the choir director still at the pulpit.

“I was hoping it could be a private conversation.” You whispered and Ransom had to still his features as to not give off too much of what was running through his head from your words.

You wanted to get Ransom alone.

Ransom wasn’t so much delusional, he recognized when even his thoughts could take things too far. But here you were, wanting to be alone with him. You must’ve taken notice to him just as much as he had been watching and dreaming of you.

With a casual ease, Ransom smiled at you comfortably and nodded. “My office is just in the back. We’re welcome to speak there and no one will overhear.”

You nodded shyly in response. Your gaze averting his as you took your bottom lip in your mouth nervously.

You were nervous.

So, you had always had a craving for him just as he had wanted you. This must’ve been what a blessing was that he had always heard the members speaking on.

He let his hand fall to your lower back as he headed towards the hall that led to his office in the back. Gently he pushed you to follow beside him and he noted how you lowered your head and your steps blindly followed his.

Of course a pretty thing like you would be nervous, but you almost seemed ashamed. Ransom could handle nerves but ashamed? No. You should be honored. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. But then again, Ransom never really went for the plastic surgery and egotistical women. He always preferred the shy and inexperienced type. He always found more pleasure in taking firsts. Even after the night was finished Ransom always walked away knowing that the women he was with never would experience better than him and that was a bigger turn on for him than their pleading for more. Soon you would know. You would even plead. He would make sure of it.

As they passed the pews, Ransom caught sight of the choir director moving the lectern back into place in the center of the pulpit.

“We’re going to a chat in my office, Roy. Go ahead and head out when you’re done. I’ll lock up on our way out.” Ransom spoke to the man. He smiled in agreement in reply. “Of course, Father. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Ransom nodded and then headed into the hallway, just passing his spot from moments before.

In silence Ransom led you down the hallway. He had to calm himself every few breaths, restraining from the eagerness that overtook him. Ransom never got eager, especially not in moments where, though unspoken, both parties knew what was about to commence. But months of abstinence had made him impatient. He hadn’t let himself indulge in any past actions, but you never pass up a free dinner. Even Ransom knew that.

Opening the door for you he led you inside. “Go ahead and take a seat.” He cooly told you as he shut the door and made his way around the desk that your chair faced.

Ransom spent many days and nights in this office. He figured it better than his soulless apartment. Though full book shelves lined the wall and a computer sat at his desk 90 degree angled desk, he had barely touched any of the objects. Including the bible sitting idle on the desk corner. The only thing that showed his presence in this room was his coat hung in the corner and the name plate given to him a few weeks after accepting the job. Besides that, he got all of his sermons online and used his common sense for his role. His only use for this room was the occasional bible study or just simple mental escape. It wasn’t much, but his time alone helped.

As Ransom sat in his own office chair, he grinned at you. He was ready to quit the bullshitting and feel every inch of you and now that you both were alone, his dick was slowly starting to harden at the thought itself. God, he was desperate for you.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue before he realized it. For comfort or seduction- whatever you wanted to take it as- he didn’t care. Now that you two were alone, he wasn’t putting on a front anymore.

Your pretty little eyes roamed the room. Never going high enough to meet his own but quickly moving, just like whatever thoughts were spinning in the small head of yours. Ransom calmly licked his lips and couldn’t stop himself from slightly leaning forward and resting his clasped hands on his desk. Whatever words left your mouth next, he was gonna love.

“I…” A flush rose on your cheeks and you stopped yourself for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip. “I-I have a confession to make.”

Oh, you couldn’t even look at him as you said that. Your eyes had scrunched just to get those few words out.

“So, confess.” It came out more impatiently than he intended but he couldn’t help it. He was already imagining what your carnal sin was. That you had lusted after him. That at night you couldn’t help but imagine him there with you, feeding into all your desires and more. Probably fucking yourself dry with your fingers, just trying to curve the craving of his cock in you. Maybe even riding a pillow, desperate for friction on your small bud.

“I let jealousy consume me…”

That was definitely not what he was expecting.

His reaction was nearly physical. It felt like a slap in the face and pressed pause on all of his fantasies of you.

You came to him because you got a little envious of someone? That was your big confession. No, that wouldn’t do. All your doe eyes and coy smiles and now you finally sat in front of him, alone, all because you got fucking jealous. What?

He couldn’t mask the confusion on his face as he repeated your statement. “You got..jealous?”

“Yes, well. I mean…I did but it wasn’t only that.” You were talking so quietly now. Your hands nervously fidgeting with each other as you stammered out your words. Your eyes cast downward in shame.

“I let it affect me and my relationship with others. One day I came home and was short and said angry words to my mom. I ditched my friends in the mall last week because they practically called me crazy and just overa-“

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Ransom chuckled and shook his head, holding his hand up to pause you. “I guess i’m just confused because…well, what does a pretty thing like you have to be jealous about?” He tried to mask his irritation with a charming smile but it was half hearted and clearly forced.

Ignoring his compliment you cocked your head and went back to staring at your hands as you continued on with your explanation.

“There’s this boy that i’ve liked forever,”

“A boy?” His voice proceeded to get more agitated as he cut you off again. Ransom brought you to his office because he thought he was going to be able to bend you over his desk. Now you were plowing through his plans because you had a schoolgirl crush on some post-puberty prick?

“Yes, his name is Timothy. You probably,”

“Look at me when you’re speaking.” The command came out fast and the shortness of it even shocked Ransom. He was losing his composure much quicker than he realized.

He could’ve sworn he heard you squeak in surprise but immediately your eyes were on his and you didn’t combat his harsh tone. Clearing your throat you continued, your eyes never leaving Ransoms again.

“Timothy is on the choir as well. He sings tenor. We both grew up here together. Even playing tennis together, sometimes practicing with each other in our free time. For years i’ve had a crush on him and didn’t help that our families were close as well, so I see him pretty regularly. But then a few Sundays ago, he brought another girl to church with him. I guess they met somewhere on campus. N’ ever since then, Timothy has just been solely focused on her. And I just…I can’t help but be jealous of her. She is where I have wanted to be for years and I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Ransom tried to make sense of your strewn together thoughts. So what if your little boy crush found his own snatch? You were the prettiest little package just waiting to be opened. Ransom had never been selfless, he was aware, but he knew he couldn’t let you leave this room until you knew that you were deserving of so much more than that bare chested twig.

Licking his lips subconsciously, Ransom knew just how to convince you of it.

“Baby, you got nothing to be jealous of.” He enunciated his words with a casual cock of his head. Your cheeks heated and he grinned at your helpless reaction.

“She’s blonde and tall. She looks like a model!”

“Honey, I guarantee, whatever she’s offering him- you can offer better.”

“Well, no. It’s not like that for me. If Timothy likes her then I want him to be happy. I don’t think I can do anything better- I don’t want to.” Your words came out in a plea of defense and he just about groaned at your innocence. You were so fast to defend others, you would run yourself into a hole. You were so perfect, so clean- wanting nothing more than to do right by others. He needed to show you just how much you were worth.

“But you already have.” Ransoms statement clearly caught you off guard as you blanched back an inch. Confusion marred your face and Ransom took advantage of this moment to stand slowly, his eyes never leaving the prize in front of him.

“Here you are whining about this boy that broke your heart, but honey you have a man right in front of you.”

Your mouth formed into a perfect o and Ransom immediately wanted to see it filled. With trained poise though, he eased slowly around the desk and neared you.

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying, father.” Your eyes still didn’t leave his own as he approached you and he mentally reminded himself to praise you for that later.

“Baby, you offer so much more than you realize. He may not have noticed that, but I have. I’ve watched you for a while now and I know just how precious you are. A real man would never waste an opportunity with you. Lemme’ show you, honey.” He let his hand trace the side of your face as he spoke. Ransoms pointer finger catching a lock of your hair between his thumb and he let it ride between his fingers as they snaked downwards before he finally cupped your cheek.

“I…” You were speechless at his confession and finally your eyes left Ransoms. “Father, I”

A groan left his mouth so softly but he knew you heard it from your frozen features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just love when you call me that.” He rubbed coaxing circles into your cheek to ease his action, but having you wide eyed and below him because of the white collar he wore was turning him on more than he usually got. “Continue, honey. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

You peered up at Ransom in stunned silence and he watched as you nervously swallowed.

“I don’t think this is appropriate, Father.”

You said it so quietly but there was no sureness in your statement and Ransom knew he had you.

“Isn’t it? God brought you to me, baby. He knew what I needed and here you are.”

“Well, maybe but..but we shouldn’t let ourselves take our own preferences to what is before us. It could lead us to sin.” He tsk’ed at your response.

“You let me say what is sin or not. I’m the priest, remember?” You nodded in response and Ransoms smile was approving.

“I know how i’ve felt about you from the moment we met. Now, I know we’ve spent little time together but I know you’ve felt it too, princess. N’ I can bet there’s some proof of it coated on your panties, huh?”

Your response was a shake of your head. You tried to move your head out of Ransoms clutch but he was quick to wrap his hand in your hair at the bass of your neck, keeping you still.

“Lust shouldn’t cloud us.” You whimpered out to him.

“It’s not lust if we were destined for each other. I know this was in Gods plan to bring you to me.”

“Satan can tempt you-.” Ransom didn’t like your response and jerked your head forward.

“Nothing is tempting me. There’s temptation and there’s knowing. I know what I can do for you. I know that you can please me. Don’t you wanna please your father, baby?” Ransom was growing impatient with your protests. He needed you weeks ago and he wasn’t about to let this perfect moment slip from his grasp.

“We’re not husband and wife. We can’t.” You were whispering now. Your silent pleas laced your words but Ransom wasn’t going to let you go and resort to another night with his hand.

“God sent us to each other. He knew I needed you and He knew you needed a real man like me. So what does it matter if we wait until after a piece of parchment is signed. It’s all apart of the plan, honey.”

You nervously chewed on your lip in silence. Your brows were down in worry but he saw his words work its way into understanding behind your eyes.

“But we will be married then?” The question was hesitant. Your final resort and protest to your priest. Ransom just smiled in response, his grip on your hair turning gentler.

“Lord willing.” He stated.

Two, three, maybe four heartbeats passed before your chin dipped. It was barely a nod, but Ransom took it.

“Stand.” He demanded and you immediately listened. Fear or obedience, Ransom didn’t care what fueled your actions-just that you had obeyed.

Without releasing you, he swept the objects off his desk in one quick motion with his free arm. You gasped in shock but he didn’t care. His hands grabbed your waste and he planted you firmly on his desk in front of him.

You were right where he wanted you now. His for the taking, the breaking, and there were no more protests from your pretty full lips as you spread your legs so his hips could hit between them.

“Over here speaking about temptations, when you wore this teasing- skimpy outfit.” Pure want laced Ransoms voice as his hands traveled down your thighs. They met the edge of your skirt and he couldn’t help but slip them underneath, running his hands higher up your bare thigh.

“I-I had tennis practice before rehearsal. It ran longer than usual. I didn’t have time to-.”

“Shut up.” Ransom didn’t want to hear any more of your ramblings. He only wanted you.

In a rush of excitement, with less restraint than he usually practiced, he leaned forward and pushed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was hungry and demanding as your mouths slid together. You fought to keep up but it was impossible with Ransoms hunger.

His cock was already straining against the front of his slacks and his desperation got the better of him as he gripped the top of your thighs aggressively. You let out a whimper in protest to the pain and Ransom seized that moment to slip his tongue into your open mouth.

You tasted of peaches and mint and damn it, Ransom couldn’t remember when he had tasted of anything better. His tongue moved expertly around yours, catching a fast rhythm but yours was wild and inexperienced. Had you even been kissed before? Maybe, but properly like this, probably not. Being a girls first and knowing they wouldn’t have better was a huge turn on for Ransom, but even with a kiss? Ransom wasn’t sure he would be able to handle himself slowly when it came time for him to fully take your innocence.

The thought alone forced a growl up his throat. His hand left your thigh simultaneously, cupping your chin aggressively. Pulling your suction on each other apart, he watched as your eyes slowly fluttered open.

Your pupils were blown, lips swollen from barely being kissed, and your cheek was flushed beyond measure. You were the perfect picture of innocence and Ransom needed to contain himself. He was so fucking turned on that his mind kept skipping 3 steps ahead and there was so much pre-cum coating the front of his boxers from you. But that wouldn’t do. No, he needed to make sure you fit him and if Ransoms anticipation kept growing he would actually end up breaking you, but he was tired of kissing you now. He just wanted to feel how tight he knew you were.

“Lay down.” He commanded you in a husky impatient voice.

Immediately your back was pressed against the table and your head was angled so that your eyes were still on him. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You were perfect.

Ransom let his hand release the hold on your face and slowly draw down your neck and fall in the middle of your chest. In reaction you gasped, your back arching off the desk slightly. But the movement had brushed your cunt with the front of Ransoms slacks and he knew you both had felt it when your eyes widened.

“My baby’s so eager, she’s rubbing herself on my clothed cock.” Ransoms body was out of his control now as his hand gripped your thigh and his hips rolled to firmly rub your clothed crotches together. Your whimper and response at his phrasing could’ve been enough to make him bust in his pants. He had just jerked off last night-what was wrong with him?

Letting Ransoms hips roll and press into you, he quickly made work of pulling your shirt off of you. Once he caught sight of how you looked laying in front of him without your shirt- he was on autopilot. In a frenzy your bra was next, Ransom only stopping for a moment to give one good squeeze to your tits and huskily saying:

“Baby, you fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.”

Before he was moving to the rest of you. Shoes, socks, and finally he was ripping your skirt down your legs before he stilled. Taking in the sight of you lying on his own desk, he was rendered speechless. This was perfection in itself, like his own fantasy coming alive- here. Naked except for your underwear. Your face already looked so fucked out and he had barely touched you!

You didn’t like his stillness and immovable gaze as Ransom watched you. You whimpered at him and your hips raised slightly as you were desperate to get back the contact you lost from him.

“Father..please. I need you, back.” You whimpered at him and Ransom groaned in response. He knew he would eventually have you pleading for him, but you were still innocent and shy. He didn’t think you would’ve used your words that quickly.

In answer Ransom let his hand cup your calf and slowly draw up your leg. You gasped in response. Your hands clutched the edge of the desk and your head fell backwards as the response of skin contact with you.

As Ransoms hand got higher and closer to the last clothed piece of you, you were impatiently writhing on the desk. A whimpering mess as his hand got nearer to your mound.

As Ransoms hand got just centimeters away, he pulled back and clutched your thigh instead. You whined in protest but he couldn’t give two shits what you wanted. Despite the constant throbbing in his pants, he suddenly had all the patience in the world.

“Tell me, princess. How often do you touch yourself?” He grinned wickedly down at you. You raised your head to look up at him, your body stilling. There was shock written on your face from his words.

“I-never, father! I promise!” Your words were begging of belief but Ransom knew better. Nothing was ever pure and certainly not a pretty thing like you.

“Don’t lie.” He grasped your thighs harshly and gritted his teeth at you. “I asked a question, now answer. Honestly this time.”

Worry took over your features and you shook your head at him. “I promise, i’ve never touched myself down there. Not like that.” Despite Ransom wanting to believe differently, he knew you were telling the truth. Holy shit. There was no way the universe let him get this lucky.

“Then what is the reason for these pretty lil’ panties, huh?” Your undies were pink with a white trim. Bikini cut and a little bow took place on the top hem.

“I just like them, that’s all.” Of course something as innocent as you would naively pick something that would have every guy on his knees at the sight.

“Well you’re ruining ‘em, baby. They’re all soaked in the front.” His index finger ran over the darker shade on your panties and he groaned as he properly felt how wet you were. Your body was craving and calling for him and to think moments before you were trying to tell him no.

You whined and bucked your hips at his contact and he pushed your hips down in protest.

“Sit still.” He commanded you and with a whine you obliged. Little pants left your mouth instead and he watched as your bottom lip slid between your teeth as he pressed harder on your cunt. Snapping your eyes shut, you jerked your head away but couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving your mouth.

So fucking reactive.

Ransom let his finger softly trail around on your undies, teasing and taunting you. He wanted more from you. He wanted to see your control slip. Finally, he let his thumb press into your clit and rub a slight circle.

Obeying Ransoms command to not move, you tried to keep your hips frozen but couldn’t help it as your back arched. Your grip on the desk tightened and a helpless sound left your throat as a spark ignited up your spine from his thumb.

You had never felt anything like this. Your whole body felt Ransoms one touch and you felt like you were vibrating. You needed more. More of him, of his touch-just more. The craving of friction between your legs was so strong and you wanted to close your legs so bad but restrained from fear of Ransoms reaction. But he was teasing you. His kiss was pure fire and lacked restraint, but now he was still. Every one of his moves intentional. Maybe if you asked he would oblige you, even though he hadn’t before.

“More, please, I need more.” Your eyes stared at his but he didn’t look up at you. He seemed to be in some sort of trance, his eyes seared wholly on his thumb as he gently nudged you. “Father…” You begged and finally he looked up.

Once his eyes met yours and he saw the eagerness in them, his resolve snapped. In a blink your panties were off and you lay bare before him.

You were so much more soaked than Ransom had realized. It was practically pouring out of your hole. He needed to fill you now.

Something between a groan and a growl left his mouth and he reached forward for you. Clutching the back of your neck he harshly sat you up. His other hand was already waiting and was quick to push past your surprised mouth.

“Suck.” You immediately took the two fingers around your tongue and obeyed, your wide eyes never leaving his.

Pulled his hand from your mouth, Ransom let it fall to its rightful place between your legs. Fuck him, you were dripping. Messily he smeared your wetness around on your cunt, “All of this for me, baby, and i’ve barely fucking touched you.” Your eyes flashed as you recognized his language but you didn’t do more than whimper at his assault on you.

In circles he rubbed your bud, abandoning the idea of two fingers and using his whole hand. You whimpered and panted as you looked up at him helplessly. Towering over you, he tightened his grip on the back of your neck and pushed you higher to meet him.

Just as your mouths met, he pushed one finger inside of you. Fucking hell, you were tight. Ransom didn’t think he had ever had a cunt this tight before. Not even mentioning the fact that it was untouched. He knew you were going to be the death of him.

You let out a low moan at his intrusion in you and he couldn’t help but let his need out by gripping the back of your head harder and his mouth moving against yours faster. As he moved his single digit inside of you, you let your head fall back and Ransom watched as your eyes fluttered shut. Tired of ordering you around but wanting your submission to him, he changed tactics.

“So fucking tight but you’re grinding on my hand like a bunny, baby. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t make you pure, honey. You’re a slut just like the rest of ‘em, huh?”

Because of his words or because he had slipped a second finger in you, harsh and quick, your eyes snapped open meeting his. Your jaw was slack but the only sound that left your lips was helpless moans and whimpers at his pace inside you. You shook your head no at Ransom but he only grinned in response.

“Really? ‘Cause i’m fucking you stupid with my fingers, haven’t even gotten my cock yet, and you can’t even form a sentence.” His tone was mocking and condescending and you couldn’t help but whimper. You shook your head at him harder in denial but with a curl of his fingers you were back to being subject to the onslaught of his fingers.

Ransom quickened his fingers rhythm and tried to add a scissor motion within you to help widen you out, but fuck. You were still sucking his fingers in just as much as his first one. Even if he had to tear you hole to hole, he was gonna make his cock fit. You would take him.

“Don’t fucking argue with me.” He seethed down at you and your response. You whimpered but Ransom gripped your neck harder, forcing your face up to his. “Your soaked cunt is sucking my fingers in like it just can’t get enough and only greedy whores act like that.” You whimpered but didn’t shake your head at his words this time.

“Admit you’re nothing but a greedy slut.” He ordered and you gaped up at him. At first your mouth opened and closed in shock but finally you swallowed and obeyed.

“I’m nothing but a greedy slut,” It left your lips so shamefully and was followed by a soft moan from the constant motion of his fingers and he growled. Fuck this, he wasn’t waiting any longer.

“Undo my pants.” He grunted out to you and his gaze dropped to his hand sinking into you. With fumbling fingers your hands met his belt and you quickly tried to undo it. It was haphazard and took you longer than you wanted but you blamed it on the two fingers inside you.

Once his belt was loose and his fly was down you looked back up at him expectantly. There was a glint in his eye as he licked him lips and focused back on you.

“Take my dick out.” Ransom watched as your throat bobbed nervously, your hands lacking less urgency as they moved to the waste-band of his slacks. With a slight push, his pants lay at his ankles and he stood before you in his black button down and boxers. “Take it out!” He ordered harsher this time and his fingers matched his cruel tone as they pressed harder inside you.

You moaned helplessly and obeyed. Pulling at his boxers until they slipped down his legs, you freed his dick. You didn’t want to look at him, at his most intimate body part, but your eyes couldn’t help but ogle.

Ransoms dick looked almost angry- all puffy, red, and dripping in need. But it was the length and size that made you gasp. He was big. Bigger than his fingers, big. You already felt so stretched from his two fingers alone, how were you ever going to take him? As if he could read your mind Ransom cut off your thoughts.

“I’ll make it fit. ‘N you’re gonna take every fucking inch.”

Like they were never there, his hands left your cunt and he mixed your juices with his as he stroked himself with the same hand he just had inside you.

You whimpered helplessly at his lack of contact on you again. Your body was alive, buzzing and burning, and you felt…close. Close to what- you weren’t sure but you knew you needed him back.

His hand dropped from around your neck and he pushed your chest until you lay back on the desk again. Nerves bundled up into your stomach as you saw him move himself closer to your mound. This seemed like a really bad idea.

Ransoms hand cupped your breast and squeezed as he tried to ease the tension building within him. He was stroking himself as he leaned forward and pressed the tip of him into your clit. You whined at the pressure, it was everything but not enough at the same time.

He moved his dick around on your cunt, groaning to himself at the sight. Your hips came up slightly as you sought for more pressure from Ransom and he obliged tapping quick, sharp slaps to your bud with his cock. This was about to be the best fuck of his life.

Finally, he lined himself up with your entrance. His hand pressing down on your pelvis to keep you still. His eyes flickered up to you for a split second and he cursed under his breath at the fear that was held in your eyes, as you should be.

With precision he rolled his hips forward and felt as just the tip slid inside you. You whimpered from below him and he couldn’t even blame you. He could feel all of you, wrapped around just that bit of him and he still had so much more to go.

With a little more pressure he pushed forward and immediately you gasped in protest.

“I can’t! It’s too much! Father, please!” You pleaded with Ransom and your eyes screwed shut at the pressure and pain at your hole. You weren’t ready, you were scared. He was too big.

“Shhhh…” Ransom shushed you and left your breast to cup your chin. “It’s okay. You just need to relax, baby.”

You shook your head at him. You couldn’t do it. But just when you thought it was already too much, Ransom pushed into you some more. A cry left your mouth and you moved to get away from him. Your hands came up in a flail, pushing at his shoulders and you tried to move your legs to gain leverage to push him off of you.

You couldn’t help the tear that left the corner of your eye as the pain sank down your legs. You wanted him off now, but Ransom was ignoring your resistance. He only held onto you harder as the pressure and pain became worse between your legs. In desperation you slapped at him and he growled angrily as he finally lifted his head to your attention.

“Stop fucking moving.” He ordered at you and released his hold on you to grab your moving arms. In a second, they were pinned at your sides, his breath heavy above you. “It’s only going to hurt worse if you don’t stop fucking moving. So when I tell you to relax-you fucking relax. Now stay the fuck still and take it.”

“But it’s too much!” You cried at him.

“Then fucking scream for all I care but stop moving.” He growled at you and you whimpered. Your breaths came up short as you tried to stop your crying but nothing helped. The pain didn’t fade, it only got worse as Ransom started to push forward again.

He wasn’t even in halfway and you were already a blubbering mess. ‘N fuck, he couldn’t seem to get any further. Your cunt was practically pushing him out but he wasn’t gonna fall for that.

In one stroke he pulled himself out and then gave a sharp thrust into you, your body heeding at his force and Ransom had to release your arms to catch himself on the desk. Fuck-he felt like he was about to cum. His thrust had worked, he was sitting in you almost to the hilt, but you were so damn tight around him he couldn’t move. How fucking pathetic of him if he got this far only to cum in one stroke.

Underneath Ransom though, you were not as happy. Your now free hands were gripping his biceps as you sobbed in pain underneath him. You felt him everywhere, was he in your stomach? He was so deep and you were so full but it didn’t feel good at all. It was nothing like the sharp tingles he was giving you earlier with his fingers-no it was pure pain and intrusion. Tears left your eyes and you mumbled incoherent pleads to Ransom to stop. You didn’t like this at all, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat inside you.

“Fuck, baby. Your cunt is gripping me like a vice. I don’t even feel like I can move, you’re holding me so tight.” Ransom lowered his forehead to rest on the desk above your shoulder.

Inch by inch he rolled his hips backwards easing out before slowly plunging back in until finally he sat fully inside you. You cried out loudly but it seemed to be drowned out by his loud groan. The movement burned and scraped your walls. Your nails dug into Ransoms shoulder as you tried to find some outlet for the pain but nothing was helping.

“Please, it hurts!” You tried one more time and you felt Ransoms breathe on your shoulder before you heard him chuckle.

Slowly he leaned back up above you, his eyes meeting yours again. His eyes held pleasure and mischief whereas you knew yours were full of tears and pain. How could be laughing at you, right now?

In a slow thrust he pulled out of you before pushing in again, harder this time. You cried out woefully as the pain bloomed again within you.

“Baby, nothing could stop me from fucking you right now. This is the best pussy i’ve ever been in and I would have to be fuckin’ crazy to give it up.” With his words he stood fully up again, seated in you.

He reached down and lifted your legs, locking them around his waist. Nervously you played with your hands again, unsure what to do with them now that they left his biceps. Ransom reached for them and lifted them above your head. He placed your grip on the edge of the desk you were lying on.

“You’re gonna need to hold on, princess.” His voice washed over you like water and you listened.

Your grip tightened on the edge as he pushed into you again. A whimper left your lips and you let your head fall back as you accepted your fate. Ransoms hands roamed your body greedily before he anchored them on your hips.

His thrusts were hard but measured as he started his slow rhythm inside you. He let his gaze wander from your pinched face to your tits. They bounced when his body found yours each time. He was in pure heaven. His cock wrapped by your tight cunt and the sight of you finally submitting to him.

He couldn’t help it as his hips started to roll into each thrust, desperate for contact with you. As he moved your eyes flew open and a gasp left your mouth.

“Fuck, I found that spot didn’t I?” He mocked you as he rocked and you whimpered in response. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as before and the feeling blooming in your stomach was better than just his fingers. Everything you were craving before seemed to be answered by his thrusts. As your body heated again, you felt that familiar buzz on your skin and you moaned helplessly as he started to pick up speed.

“Fucking milking my cock.” Ransom teethed out and you felt a sharp hold on your jaw.

“Open your fucking eyes.” You quickly obeyed and he pulled your face up, angling at the lewd act in front of you.

Blood coated the base of his dick and he let out a moan from the sight of your lost innocence.

You watched as he disappeared in you over and over again and moaned as each thrust hit home. Watching, as well as feeling him inside you, sent jolts across your skin.

“That’s right,” Ransom huskily said to you, seeing your reaction to him. “What would that prick Timothy think of you if he could see you being fucked, right now. Hm? That you’re a fucking whore? Being fucked by your pastor in the back of the church he attends every Sunday. Such a god damn slut.”

His words sunk deep and you tried to deny his proclamations but they only fueled the fire in you. He was so deep and you felt every single thrust. The buzz in your bones reached further and you helplessly tried to meet each of his thrusts. Your clit caught on his pelvis at each rock of his hips and you couldn’t stop the little noises that left your throat as the feeling within you reached a pinnacle.

Ransom felt your pussy spasm around him and he grunted at each thrust. Releasing your face, you fell limply back flat onto the desk and he rutted into you harder as he grabbed onto your waist again. He knew you were close and it was all but animalistic how he chased it for you. He wasn’t gonna let some wimp bastard steal your first orgasm. It was going to be him, all of your first were going to be with him and, fuck, that made his hips roll harder.

One moment you were present, the lewd claps and sucking sounds echoing through your head, and the next you were in the heavens. Your body arched off the desk as blood rushed into your ears and you barely heard as you cried out from the feeling that overtook your body. It was pure electricity. Running from your toes to your skull and you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want it to stop though. No, you wanted to live here. In this constant state of pleasure and stars. It was the best feeling you had ever experienced and it consumed you whole.

“Hol-ly shit!” Ransom shouted. Your cunt squeezed his length as you came and he knew he was right fucking there. You grasped him perfectly, every inch being swallowed by you and watching you come around him was all it took for him to find his own nut.

He fucked you through your shivers and spasms and you still whimpered underneath him as his thrusts became faster and irregular.

“Fuck, fuck-FUCK!” He grunted out as finally his orgasm overtook him. At his dicks first flex within you he fell on top of your still body. His hips still moving as his cum bursted out of him in quick ropes.

His own orgasm seemed to last for hours. His dick still twitching as he finally got the hearing in his ears back. Never in his life had he came that hard. Even when he was a virgin, pussy didn’t feel that good. Cumming didn’t feel that good. No, that was all you. Ransom gave you that credit.

You moved beneath the weight of Ransom, your breathing slowly starting to become normal again. You couldn’t help but let your hands fall onto his back, slowly feeling the muscles that were hidden beneath his shirt. Realization struck you as you both settled down from your highs.

You had just lost your virginity. Had sex before marriage. Let him curse and mock you as he took it from you and you couldn’t help but feel…content. You knew you should be regretting your actions. Shoving him off of you and leaving the room in a hurry, but you didn’t.

It was the priest who took it from you. He knew much more than you and you couldn’t help but feel pride that it had been with him you gave yourself to. Still worry pinched your stomach.

“Am I going to get pregnant?” You questioned. It was more of an inward thought but you had whispered it aloud to Ransom.

Fuck, he had forgotten a condom and of course you wouldn’t be on birth control. Never had he been so consumed by pussy that he let safety slip.

Ransom groaned as he pushed himself up on his forearms. He was rarely ever spent after sex. Maybe on very drunk nights he lazily passed out or even after multiple rounds but you had exhausted him just from that one cum alone. Looking down at you he took in your state. Your hair was a mess around your head and your cheeks were still flushed from being fucked. He had the urge to take you again but the urge to sleep was stronger.

“I’ll take care of it.” He responded. He didn’t really have it in his budget right now to pay for a fifty dollar pill but it was better than the thousands spent on a kid.

Pushing himself fully off of you and standing, Ransom eased out of you and you hissed in protest. Your walls were sore from the sex and he knew he had done his job properly. Hopefully you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a couple of days.

Tucking your elbows under you, you leaned up fully taking in the sight of you. Faint bruises laced your hips from his grasp and you gasped. Had he really been gripping you that hard?

Ransom moved to tuck his dick into his boxers as he pulled his pants up, quickly tightening his belt. He tossed you your under things and clothes and you stared at him in confusion. That’s it? So much had just happened and he was giving you your clothes like it was casual. This was not casual.

“But,” You moved to sit up as you quickly worked to cover your nude state. “we’re gonna be married right?”

Ransom turned to you. The question catching him off guard. No one had ever asked him such a wild question before and it brought reality back to him. He was a priest, you were his pupil, this could spread like wildfire and his whole position could be threatened. He didn’t want to stay here permanently but until things cooled down for him, it was his safest option. Marriage, on the other hand, was a little too permanent for his liking.

But as Ransom took in the sight of you, wincing as you stood and frantically trying to put on your undies, he was reminded just how perfect you were. You were easy and convenient. You had obeyed his every command without fail and none of his previous fucks had ever gotten him off like you had.

He smiled at you and moved to cup your face with his hands. Pulling you up to your toes he let his lips press into yours. So different from the previous times he had kissed you, he put meaning and care into this one.

“Baby, you were made for me. Of course we’re getting married.” You smiled at his response, leaning back into his lips.

But you missed the glint in his eye when he spoke. He wasn’t gonna marry you because it was the proper way for you to be treated. No, he was marrying you because there was no way in hell another man would ever touch you again. You were his. For whenever and wherever he pleased. An object for his pleasure, not yours.

Ransom released you and let you return to finish dressing. He desperately needed to shower off the sweat that had collected on his back and go to fucking bed. Your pussy had drained the life out of him but he couldn’t complain if every time he fucked you it left him this spent.

“I’m all sticky and wet. It’s uncomfortable.” You whined as you finished putting on your last shoe. You moved awkwardly as you stood. Your face scrunched at the feeling of cum running out of you. Ransom wished he would see it dripping out.

“Let it sit, baby. I want you to remember me for a little bit longer.” He grabbed hit coat off the rack and folded it over his arm.

“Can I tell my parents we’re engaged?” There was so much hope in your voice as you collected your belongings yourself.

“No, not yet.”

“But they’re gonna be thrilled by the news!” You eagerly looked up at him and he felt irritation climb his spine. Maybe a sweet cunt wasn’t worth this much annoyance. Youth was also an ignorant curse.

“Some people won’t understand us, princess. Won’t understand God joining us together. Just give it time and i’ll let you know when we can tell them. Together, hm?” He cupped your cheek and even appeased you with a kiss on the forehead. You still sighed in complaint as you both head towards the door, but stayed silent.

Ransom knew you would abide by his word and wouldn’t tell a soul. Maybe one day you would realize the fault in letting him command you, but it wasn’t today. ‘N he knew it wouldn’t be for a long while. He had you whipped good. Especially when your soreness passed and you were craving only what he gave you, you would come to him begging for more. Probably go down on your knees for him.

Blood rushed to his dick and the thought and he grinned to himself. It was only after he had flipped the light switch and closed the door behind ya’ll, sealing the memories of your actions in the room did he realize he didn’t even pick up the stuff from the floor that he hurriedly shoved off.

He didn’t even catch your name.

[inexplicablymine]

GET RECC’D - TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY

welcome to “get recc’d” my themed fic reccomendation lists if you follow me on Twitter, you might recognize that I do threads and fic recs quite often ~ thought I would bring it over here as well for some more fun.

Themed lists: Get Recc’d

Daily Rec’s/Weekly Rec’s: The Fandom Feasts

NOW THAT THE BOOKKEEPING IS OUT OF THE WAY

Happy Trans Day of Visibility!

Today I thought it would be pertinent to highlight some wonderful Trans!Firstprince fics, now this is a non exhaustive list as there are 154 fics tagged / mention “trans” in their stories (finished and in the English language) you can click through those here.

BUTTT WITHOUT FURTHER ADO SOME DRUMROLLS PLEASE (and in no particular order)

Longer Than Most by @happiness-of-the-pursuit (26K/E)

Seahorse Dad Henry and accidental Baby Daddy Alex, this work is handled with so much care and is the kind of soft emotional happy feelings that you just want to roll around in

You love me! You love me? by anarchyat4am (28K/T)

Trans!Alex College AU where Henry and Alex end up at UT Austin together and become accidental roommates, when I tell you this fic is one I come back to repeatedly? Yes this is so soft it made me cry in a good way the first three times I read it (back to back of course)

Anything You Want by somuchworse (5.7K/E)

This is where things pick up into steamy territory, transmasc Henry has never had the big O and Alex helps him see the light. The kind of care and conversation and delicacy in which the discussions are had on top of the steamy hot conclusion make this one a repeat offender on the reread list

say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) by @coffeecatsme (21K/T)

The softest shmoopiest 5+1 of Henry coming to terms with who he is and Alex falling in love with him the entire way through

the reason comes on the common tongue of you loving me by ncfariouvs (3K/E)

Henry brings back so many people to the apartment but according to him he never gets off, Alex is there to help, a trans!Henry roommates, friends to lovers speedrun that is delicious

T4T First Prince by @cactusdragon517 (10K/E+G)

THIS SERIES my lord go run skip jump dance on over to it and then just stay a while because man is this one of those series that makes you smile through the happy tears of how soft and happy and joyful it is. T4T Henry helping Alex post top surgery and falling in love + bonus second fic of them IN LOVE LATER IN LIFE

snapshots of you and me by @thedramasummer (7K/E)

Post Top Surgery Trans!Henry hires a Boudoir Photographer (shocking news it’s ACD) to do some self affirming photos, and this is such an affirming gorgeous glorious story of that process experience and of course the steamy happy ending

seahorse dad Alex by @jackzimmermemes (3.5K/G+E)

Another Seahorse Dad series! This time with Trans!Alex, take a look at these little slice of life stories of firstprince as they navigate their lives and parenthood and feel full to the brim with joy

long live (the walls we crashed through) by breakmytears (2.5K/G)

Alex and Henry’s son comes out to them as trans and let me tell you if you thought the tears were flowing before there is NOTHING on this fic for the soft unwavering support that is threaded throughout

I Wanna Swim Between Your Thighs by Alex20 (2.4K/E)

Teacher!Alex with a tremendous crush on single!dad Henry (also trans!Henry) and this is the delightful fun filled story of their coming together (in more ways than one)

If I missed an author tag here for their tumblr I tried to find them all but please let me know and I’ll add them in directly!

And with that I bid you good reading! Until next time I hope these recommendations recc’d you in the worst possible way, please support these authors when reading their works by giving kudos and comments! It helps vocalize support and show that readers love what they are doing!

[bitsofshanshine]

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🌷 Workspace: Work Progress, Work Files, To-do List, Quick Notes, Important Links, Clients, Meeting, Ideas

🌷 Journal: Monthly Journal, Yearly Journal, Affirmations, Photo Archive

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🌷 Book Library: Currently Reading, Reading Tracker, Monthly Reading Goals, Book Wishlist, Book Reviews, Notes & Quotes

🌷 Movies Log: Currently Watching, Watch List, Links, Movie Reviews, Movie Recommendations

🌷 Language Learning: Weekly Schedule, Study Notes, Study Goals, Study Materials, Quick Notes, Pomodoro Timer

🌷 Self Care: Morning Routine, Night Routine, Self-care Check, Skincare Routine, Period Tracker, Meditation & Affirmations

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[fruity-fruition]

Future Wondershow!!

Everything is amazing and ideal because I cannot handle a sad ending between them they're my lifeline

--

Tsukasa and Nene are young skilled up-rising stars in both theatre and film industry who both are rapidly growing at an incredible rate due to their natural charisma, their history of already having a quite successful troupe in high school, mixed with both stubborn hard work and willingness/ideas to do insane shit due to being under Rui's direction for so long.

Rui is also an up-rising director who took the world by storm at how innovative his directing is in a field that's lacking in passion recently. Mixed with everything I've stated for Nene and Tsukasa too.

Emu took over the theme park business kind of. She's sharing with her brother's still, who's showing her the ropes and the actual mechanism of how everything works. Shosuke and Keisuke had fully embraced Emu's bright ideas and cheery attitude now, both thanks to working with WxS for so long and Emu showing them how capable she actually is, despite her optimistic naivety. The park is running to be as successful as ever, now Emu finally has power to make the changes she knows her grandpa would be proud of.

--

Tsukasa, Nene, and Rui often work together on projects which lead their fan community to be merged in a way. It started off divided, with Tsukasa and Nene fans fighting near constantly due to the two coming into the field at the exact same time, but eventually most of the public know that if one is there, the other two won't be that far behind.

--

Tsukasa, Rui, and Nene often get invited to those fancy parties, (they absolutely do not like it. It's too boring. But they go anyway because they need to build connections and stuff apparently) and every time they have the opportunity to invite a plus one, they drag Emu with. None of them stay at the main hall for long, and they'd drag each other outside to either the balcony or garden and just hang around.

This ALWAYS results in them going viral on some sort of social media, with the press never failing to capture a photo of all four of them hanging about and laughing with each other.

--

Their work often brings them apart a lot of times, and even though they still meet weekly in the SEKAI, it's just not the same.

So once every year, they all clear their schedules completely for a full week or more so they could go on a holiday together. It doesn't really matter where. They could stay at home a lounge for the whole week for all they care. But they still do it just to physically be there with each other.

(bonus point if they invite other friends too. Saki, Toya, Mizuki, etc)

--

Again, schedules and overseas work contrast each other a lot of times if they're all working on a project.

But whenever Rui, Tsukasa, and Nene end up home all at once, unplanned, they all collectively decide to just drag Emu to go out with them to their old restaurant that they always go to after a show in high school.

Emu's employees have gotten used to seeing Emu piggyback riding Rui/Tsukasa at full speed leaving the office that they have an entire protocol that Emu and her brothers made for when it happens.

--

Wondershow would do random livestreams together. Either gaming, or baking, or painting each other's nails. They have no specific genre. They just do it for fun.

Nene would still do singular gaming livestreams still, because it's one of her passions.

--

I have more but the rest is kinda shippy and I wanted to keep this PURELY Wondershow friendship because I love Wondershow friendship so much guys they're everything I hate them

(you can so clearly tell that English isn't my native language in this post. Wow. I'm so sorry I hope it's coherent enough)

[static-symphony-fm]

you are in love (true love)

now playing: you are in love (taylor's version)

pairing: magnus chase x fem! reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: 5 people who knew magnus was in love with you before you did + 1 sword

an: FIRST FANFIC LETS FUCKING GOOOOO this took so long to write! I love how I accidentally made it blue themed even though that's magnus's least favorite colour 😭 its ok we all know he's canonically a 1989 girly

fun fact i actually took the first picture! i shit you not I was on a road trip with my family READING MAGNUS CHASE and I look up and see THAT SIGN and i SCRAMBLED to take a picture

content/ warnings: 5+1 things, background blitzstone bcs c'mon they're basically canon, shitty writing, kissing ooo spooky, magnus being a simp, there actually isn't a whole lot of reader in this x reader fic, minor allusions to sex stuff, a lot of swearing, weird use of perspective, i was trying to go for third person limited but magnus is the one it's limited to not reader? but reader is referred to using second person? sorry if it's confusing.

1. samirah al-abbas

  if someone had told magnus a year ago that in a couple month’s time, meeting for coffee weekly with one of his best friends and not getting kicked out of the overpriced coffee shop was going to be the most normal thing in his life, he wouldn’t have believed them. probably would have flipped them off, too, and stole their wallet as he walked away. but he’d like to think that he was a changed man, seeing as he was, in fact, in a hipster café in boston, trying not to make fun of all the fancy menu options. like, seriously? who orders a dragon fruit, pomegranate, and kale smoothie?

he realized he’d been thinking for too long and returned his attention to samirah, sitting across from him and discussing wedding plans for her upcoming marriage to amir as she sipped her latte. he noticed the way her eyes seemed to get brighter, and her entire body language conveyed how excited she was as she talked about him. magnus had a fleeting thought about how good it must feel to love someone so unconditionally like that, and have them love you back just as much. 

as if reading his mind, samirah finished her sentence and studied him, tilting her head as she seemed lost in thought, peering at him like he was a calculus problem she couldn’t quite figure out. 

after a few seconds, magnus broke the silence. 

“alright, it’s getting weird. why’re you looking at me like that?”

samirah snapped out of it, focusing on what he was saying.

“nothing, just… do you think you’ll ever get married?”

jeez, that was a loaded question. magnus narrowly avoided choking on his black coffee, swallowing and burning his throat before answering.

 “sam, i’m dead.”

“so? people get married in valhalla all the time. i have been to a very disproportionate amount of weddings in the two years i worked there.”

“yeah? how many of those end in divorce?”

samirah took a long drink of her coffee, swallowing it slowly as she responded.

“forever is a very long time, and no relationship is perfect, but wouldn’t it be better to have someone to spend that time with?”

“…i guess.” magnus accepted, lost in thought. truthfully, samirah was right, like always. if circumstances were different, if he hadn’t died at sixteen, he could imagine himself getting married. settling down. living in a cabin in the forest with two kids. 

a thought came into his mind, entirely of its own accord, of doing all of that with you. your laugh, your soft hair, the way your lips curled up and your eyes widened when you smile. you’d probably be a great mom.

whoa, what the hell? he should definitely not be thinking about getting married to his friend, what the fuck? that is not normal. 

he pushed the weird thought out of his mind as best he could, gulping his coffee and focusing on the burning in his throat and not what he was just thinking. samirah had gone back to talking about amir, and magnus was not going to think about marrying you any longer.

2. alex fierro

after nearly getting his head cut off by alex’s garrote for the third time that day, magnus needed a break. alex had decided that magnus needed to learn to fight without the help of jack, and it wasn't going too well for him. he collapsed on the bench next to alex, chugging half a bottle of water before even taking a breath. alex rolled her eyes. 

“it’s not that hard, you just aren’t fast enough.”

magnus managed to control himself and not say a snarky comment back, but it was a close call. instead, he ignored her, staring straight ahead and not engaging. unfortunately, you were in his direct line of sight, sparring with mallory only a few metres away. alex picked up on this quickly, nudging his side. 

“you like watching y/n fight, huh?” she teased, smirking. damn, why did she have to be so perceptive?

“what? no. shut up.” magnus replied quickly, trying to hide his blush. “i mean… she’s a good fighter. not like i like her or anything like that.” 

“mhm. suuuure you don’t.” alex replied, definitely not believing him. fuck.

“i’m telling the truth!” magnus protested. god, how was arguing with alex harder than physically fighting her? 

“yeah. did you see her necklace today? pretty, right?”

“she’s not even wearing a neck- fuck.” magnus said instantly, before catching himself. 

“go to hell.”  he swore, glaring at alex, who was grinning at him in a way that reminded him a little too much of her mother. 

“you first.”

      3 + 4. blitzen & hearthstone

“magnus? magnus?”

a pale hand reached in front of magnus face, waving and then snapping its fingers, bringing him back to reality. he blinked and looked around at hearth and blitz, sitting across from him in the dining room of the chase space. hearth took his hand back to sign finally, raising his eyebrows sarcastically.

“your head’s way up in the clouds, kid.” blitz remarked, drumming his short, well manicured fingernails on the table, his silver engagement ring glinting.  he was right. magnus definitely was pretty out of it lately. 

probably thinking about y/n, hearth signed. jeez, why did every conversation he had have to be about you? and no, he most certainly was not thinking about you and your pretty eyes and your delicate hands and the way your ass looked in those jeans you were wearing yesterday… jesus fucking christ, he needed to stop.

 he buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly, then raised his head back up so hearth could read his lips, hoping that his blush wasn’t as visible as it felt. 

“i am not thinking about her.” he lied through his teeth. 

“there’s nothing wrong with having a crush, you know.”

ugh, why did they have to act so much like his dads? 

“i don’t have a crush!”

“kid, you’re a terrible liar. everyone can see the way you stare at that girl. now remember, if you’re doing anything intimate, you gotta use protection…”

that’s it. magnus couldn’t stand up from the table fast enough

 “nope! this conversation is ending right now. good talk!”

5. annabeth chase

magnus and annabeth had been walking around new york for the past three hours, trying to make up for the ten years spent apart.  annabeth had shown him her favorite library, and pointed out a bunch of cool architecture in nearby buildings, with a promise to show him and his friends camp half-blood in the summer.

 they were currently taking a break, stopping for lunch at a falafel place that wasn’t quite as good as fadlan’s, but it was still falafel. magnus was enjoying listening to annabeth talk about her architecture projects– she was taking online classes to prepare for the higher level of new rome university’s program. 

magnus loved listening to her talk about things he didn’t understand. as a child he’d always thought she was a genius, the way she always solved puzzles and math problems easily. ten years later, that theory still held up, hearing her go on about a bunch of terms he didn’t understand.

“sorry, i’m probably boring you to tears. you wanna talk about something else?”

annabeth offered.

“no, it’s fine… i really don’t have a lot going on.” magnus replied, smiling politely.

“come on. there’s gotta be something interesting.” an idea seemed to come to annabeth.

“you have a crush on anybody?”

magnus swallowed. 

“no.”

but he was too slow. those steel gray eyes that matched his own were locked on him like a hawk, or maybe an owl. 

“yes, you do. come on. spill!”

magnus stayed silent. he was not telling his cousin about his crushes, but those metallic eyes stayed locked on him. he eventually gave up. annabeth could be scary when she wanted to be.

“fine. fine. her name’s y/n…”

+1. jack

 it was movie night at the chase space. was magnus ever gonna stop calling it that? no. it was cool. shut up. the credits were rolling on some disney movie that alex had insisted on, and everyone else was slowly but surely making their way to their rooms, yawning as they said their good nights. you had been sitting next to magnus on the couch the whole time, and suffice it to say that he had had some trouble concentrating on the film.  

it was just you and him, you in your nirvana t-shirt and gray sweat shorts, and in that moment, he decided to tell you.

 you got up to leave, waving at him, and in a feat of bravery so incredible it would be studied by historians for centuries to come, magnus managed to work up the nerve to speak up. 

“hey, uh, can i talk to you for a sec?”

“sure? what’s up?” you asked as you sat back down.

jesus, what had he gotten himself into? it’s ok, magnus, you got this. you beat loki in a flyting. you can talk to a pretty girl. 

“uh, i was just thinking… i just…” off to a great start, aren’t we? fuck off, voice in his head. he can do this. he took a deep breath.

“i really like you. you're gorgeous and funny and so insanely smart. i’m an atheist but i’m praying to god you feel the same way. will you be my girlfriend?”

you bit your lip, breaking eye contact as you looked off into the distance. fuck. you were gonna say no and then he was never gonna be able to talk to you again and he was gonna have to change his name and move to canada…

“can i kiss you?” 

what.

there were a million things magnus expected you to say, but that was none of them. he managed to stutter out a simple “please…” and then you leaned forward and your lips were on his and magnus chase died.

this felt more like the end of his life than being knocked off a burning bridge and drowning did. his heart was beating a million times a second, and he seemed to have forgotten how breathing worked. your lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

 he managed to reciprocate a little, mostly acting on instinct, and all he could think about was how astronomically better this was than jackie molotov in the seventh grade.

what was he supposed to do with his hands? he was pretty sure that keeping them at his side was the wrong answer, so he moved one to your waist and the other one to the back of your neck, tangling it gently in your soft hair as his lips moved against yours.

gods, he could have stayed like that until ragnarök, but his stupid sword had to ruin the moment. jack started buzzing on his neck sleepily, seeming to have been woken up ungraciously. he hoped that you couldn’t feel it, but that was pretty unlikely, considering how close you were to him. jeez, he was blushing more and more every time he thought about that. 

eventually, you pulled away, smiling a little. 

“good night, magnus.”

he nodded, unable to form words, and managed to stand up and walk back to his room, wide eyed, operating on autopilot. he walked into his room and immediately collapsed backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling without blinking, completely still. not a thought passed through his mind for at least ten minutes, till he finally was able to reach up and pull jack’s pendant off of his necklace.

“dude, what happened to blades before babes!?!”

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have nine fics dealing with Grief or Mourning -dealing with the losses in the recent episodes of Critical Role, older losses, and imagined losses still in these character's futures. Check them out beneath the cut, and remember to comment and kudos if you like them!

divorce the first by Ink_Beneath_Her_Fingernails (3496,Not Rated) Warnings: Brief mentions of Molly's death, but it's not a focus. Pairings:

Common is the only language all of the Nein share, but it's not the first language of any of them.

Reccer says: There's such an aching sense of longing and grief and mourning in this fic that leaves you with the feeling of an old pain, almost too small to bother dealing with, not that you even could, but every day it sticks around like a rock in your shoe. It manages to slip under your defenses in a way fiction about things like death can't always do, while still touching on loss. There's also some really excellent development of worldbuilding and Wildemount here.

Proud by awaytobeunshaken (557,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast

Beau isn't sure how to feel after her father's death. Caleb tries to comfort her anyway.

Reccer says: I liked it

a white and soundless place by BeatriceEagle (7064,Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Pairings: Una Ermendrud & Caleb Widogast

A portrait of grief, from either side of the thing.

Reccer says: Una and Leofric feel like people, rather than saints.

psychopomp by hydraxx (3357,General) Warnings: Pairings: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Essek comes back to visit Blumenthal over the centuries after Caleb dies, while a long series of local innkeepers observe his mourning process.

Reccer says: It's a really sweet look at how Essek processes losing one of the people important to him, with background worldbuilding!

A Wisdom Without Face or Name by violettressed (17280,Teen) Warnings: major character death Pairings: Caduceus Clay & Jester Lavorre, Jester Lavorre & Essek Thelyss, Artagan & Jester Lavorre

Jester Lavorre spends a lifetime learning how to let go.

Reccer says: A great fic if you need a cry - there's little sparks of humor left by everyone being in character that make the entire thing even more heartfelt

Things to Do in Whitestone When Your Best Friend is Dead by untropicalisland (3038,General) Warnings: major character death Pairings: Ashton Greymoore & Laudna, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III & Ashton Greymoore

Ashton tries to make sense of FCG's death while the party regroups in Whitestone following their return from Ruidus.

Reccer says: Ashton and FCG's relationship was so great, it's nice to see something that's got Ashton processing their death. And the Percy and Ashton's dynamic is pitch perfect and *chef's kiss*

Synonym for Tragedy by thetickingclock (1060,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Orym/Dorian Storm, Fearne Calloway & Orym & Dorian Storm, Dorian Storm & Cyrus Wyvernwind, Dorian Storm & Dariax Zaveon

Dorian and his brother. The music is different now.

Reccer says: Beautiful and haunting

like wildfire, it starts in my chest by ellis (ellabellachicketychella) (1523,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Dorian Storm & Cyrus Wyvernwind, Dorian Storm & Dariax Zaveon

If this is grief then the poems got it wrong-- or, i love how dorian's grief is rage so much. i wrote a little about it

Reccer says: A brilliant character study of Dorian after episode 93

To hold, to cut by thetickingclock (1665,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

A series of vignettes about the coping with grief through shared work

Reccer says: It felt true

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be focusing on Fjord Stone! Know of something focusing on his backstory, or maybe his interior life during the campaign, that orphanage heist that happened after? You should rec it!

After that, we'll be changing things up a bit. Mentorship will be happening on the 15th, but after that, we're going to switch to a twice a month schedule - starting with Scanlan.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

Oh! Also! Critter Gen Week is happening! We've been using the themes for our reclist - so if you're inspired by what you're reading, consider writing (or making art) for that week!

[hmshermitcraft]

Bdubs’ love language is phsyical touch, and Etho could tell right from the start.

The way he’d lean into Etho’s side any chance he got.

The way he eagerly grabbed hold of Etho’s hand when he got excited.

The way he subconsciously would scoot closer to Etho if he thought they were too far apart.

Etho takes extra care to return with the best hugs he can give, just for Bdubs.

Physical affection was a bit of a foreign concept to Etho before Bdubs entered his life. Etho supposes he gives off some 'don't touch me' vibes - with his heavy coat and mask and minimal skin showing. He never disputed that reputation, either. But, it never seemed to bother Bdubs.

Bdubs makes it obvious, with his dramatic yawns as he drapes over Etho. Etho never realised how heavily Bdubs can sleep until he started clinging to Etho whilst he did. Nor did he realise what it was like to be tugged along by the hand, or have somebody jump on his shoulders.

Etho finds he loves it just as much as Bdubs does.

[fizziepopangel]

“I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything…”

Touch and words of affirmation are his top love languages. He’s been through a lot that’s really shaken his confidence and his beliefs. Hearing someone actively reassure or compliment him is a huge boost for him, as is feeling something solid and consistent in the form of touch (especially when these come from someone he cares for).

Lucifer absolutely blasts show tunes and sings at the top of his lungs while he’s in the shower.

Flirting goes straight over his head sometimes since people often use the “did it hurt when you fell from heaven” bit on him and it usually results in him trauma dumping and showing them the actual physical scars he has from literally falling from  heaven…. He never understands why people seem to drop out of the conversations after since they did ask him.

He frequently uses the phrase “I knew him personally, so I know that God only lets things grow until they’re perfect. Some people get there sooner than others.” when someone makes fun of his height.

He sleeps in duck footie pajamas that Vaggie gifted him on his first father’s day since he and Charlie began talking again. Though she was embarrassed to give him a gift, he was absolutely over the moon excited since this means that his daughter’s girlfriend likes him.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the inhabitants of the hotel, Lucifer has a rubber duck that resembles them all. He often has to remake Alastors because when he’s upset with him, he tends to take his anger out on the Alastor-themed duck. At least one radio demon duck gets destroyed a week.

Eats candied apples religiously

He only wears the hat to look taller. Alastor knows this and frequently steals his hat and then pokes fun at his height as the king of hell wanders around looking for the accessory.

Lucifer loves animals so once a month he gathers all the pets (this included Razzle and Dazzle prior to Dazzle’s death) of the hotel for a little playdates. He buys them cute little outfits, takes them to pet parks to play, buys them each a new toy, and gets them hell’s version of a pup cup.

Yes, he did try to take Husk once because he does in fact view the man as a giant kitty that he really wants to win over…. And yes, Husk does go once, he regrets it immediately.

Despite them not exactly seeing eye to eye (partially because of the height difference), Lucifer and Alastor both enjoy cooking and get together with snacks to watch their favorite cooking show once a week. It started by accident, but since it became a weekly occurrence, they put aside their differences for the one night to enjoy the show together.

Lucifer bakes muffins and banana bread every weekend. He even teaches Niffty how to do it, she’s a flour covered mess by the end of it and her bread usually comes out rock hard and her muffins rarely rise, but Lucifer actually really enjoys the company and he finds the tiny woman rather amusing to spend time with.

After reconnecting with Charlie, Lucifer made it a point to have father/daughter dates once a month in an attempt to get to know her again. After realizing how big a role Vaggie plays in her life, he would start inviting her out with them too and referring to her as his future daughter in law.

He absolutely hates geese.

Lucifer keeps his wings tucked away for most of the time when they aren’t needed, but he usually sleeps with them unfurled and spread across the bed when it’s warm out, or with them wrapped around himself when he’s cold.

While most people would think that the big boss of hell would be the all business type that drinks his coffee black, he actually prefers a soothing warm tea to coffee when given the option…. But if he has to have coffee, he usually has a cup that tends to be more creamer than coffee and it has to be tooth rottingly sweet.

There’s a cabinet in the Hazbin Hotel kitchen full of mugs. Lucifer has 4 duck themed mugs in that cabinet… there were 6 but Alastor “accidentally” broke two.

Lucifer keeps one of Charlie’s baby photos in the pocket of his jacket, but as their relationship improves, he keeps a newer photo of the two of them together in his pocket with it too.

There’s a cabinet in the Hazbin Hotel kitchen full of mugs. Lucifer has 4 duck themed mugs in that cabinet… there were 6 but Alastor “accidentally” broke two.

Lucifer keeps one of Charlie’s baby photos in the pocket of his jacket, but as their relationship improves, he keeps a newer photo of the two of them together in his pocket with it too.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Tea for Two

Amelia Shepherd x g!nreader* Warnings: some explicit language, just hella fluff, seriously so much fluff, mentions of hospitalization (duh) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: You go to Grey-Sloan Memorial once a week to hang out with the kids on the pediatrics floor, but more and more you find yourself going there for one particular doctor: Amelia Shepherd. But can you work up the courage to make a move? And if you can, will she reciprocate?

*Reader & Gender. Gender is a slippery, tricky thing. I feel like I kind of straddle the line between being a girl and being nonbinary, so my x reader perspectives will shift depending on which I'm feeling more that day. But please feel free to insert whatever pronouns/gender identity fit you best! I try to keep descriptions of the reader to a minimum so you can see yourself in them regardless. <3

You checked in at the front desk of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital and pressed your guest-pass name tag onto your shirt. You had your instrument case on your back, and several familiar nurses waved at you as you made your way to the elevator and up to the pediatrics floor. You were there for your weekly music hour with the kids. It had started last summer, when your brother had open heart surgery and spent a month of the pediatrics floor. You'd often brought your instrument to play and sing his favorite songs for him and, more often than not, other kids on the floor would crowd his room and request songs and sing with you.

By the time your brother had gone home with a clean bill of health, you'd gotten attached to the kids, to the nurses who wheeled patients into the rooms you played in. You went home with song requests and learned how to play Encanto and the Bluey theme song and Simon & Garfunkel for them. It had quickly become one of your favorite parts of the week.

And not just because of the kids. Of course, there were always doctors around, but most of the time there was one particular doctor around, and you both loved and hated it.

"Dr. Shepherd," she'd told you, on the third or fourth post-concert elevator ride which, for whatever reason, you almost always ended up on together. "Or, well, Amelia. I'm not your doctor."

"Y/N," you'd replied, shaking her hand like an idiot businessman. God, she was pretty. You hoped you didn't look as flustered as you were.

"Are you on Spotify?" she asked.

You laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut. "No! No, it's just for fun."

"Well, you're really good at it," Amelia finished, as the elevator opened on the floor before yours.

"Thanks," you said, trying your very hardest to make eye contact.

"See you next week?"

"Yep," you nodded.

"Cool." She gave you a double thumbs-up and walked out the elevator doors.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, turning back to hold the door open. She pointed at you. "Pronouns? Mine are she/her."

A bright smile flashed across your face. "They/them. Thanks for asking."

"You got it." Another thumbs up, and she was gone. You sighed. Pretty and asked about your pronouns? It was gonna be really hard to convince yourself you didn't like her now.

Amelia was there next week. And the next. And the next. Always in the back. Always in the elevator with you afterward. And you just talked. Never for more than a few minutes. But those few minutes added up after a while. You learned that she was Chief of Neurosurgery. That she'd grown up in New York. That she lived with her sisters and her nieces and nephew. That she loved boba tea and cats.

One day, in a moment of reckless confidence, you stopped at Seattle Best Tea on your way to Grey-Sloan and picked up two boba teas, one for you and one for Amelia. As soon as you stepped through the doors of the hospital, you knew it was a mistake. Fuck, you thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Friends don't bring boba tea. Especially elevator friends.

But then, of course, you had to give it to her. Because otherwise it'd look like you brought two bobas for yourself, and that was even weirder.

She was already in her corner of the pediatrics lobby when you walked in. Trying to act casual, you approached her and held on the tea.

"Hey," you said. "Do you, uh... do you want this?"

She looked at you, surprised, and took the cup. "You brought me boba?"

"No." You shook your head and shrugged. "I had an... extra?" It was a stupid excuse. You knew it the moment it left your mouth.

A smile crept at the corner of Amelia's lips, and she raised her eyebrows at you. "You had an extra milk tea?"

"No," you admitted, flushing slightly and running a hand self-consciously through your hair. "It's for you." You felt like you were digging your own grave.

"Well, gotta get up there," you said quickly. You avoided her eyes and headed quickly toward the little stool they'd set up for you at the front of the room.

You'd never been so distracted during a set, especially with the Grey-Sloan kids, who usually took up all your attention. At first you tried very hard to not look anywhere near Amelia, but then you thought that might be more suspicious, so you just tried to look in her general direction.

As you packed up your instrument, your heart pounded. You knew, you just knew, she was going to be on that elevator and that she knew. Your damn little boba gesture had almost certainly given you away. And she was going to say, Sorry, I'm not into women. Or kind-of-women-kind-of-not, which is where you usually landed. Even worse, she might say, Sorry, I'm not into you. Or the very worst of all, she wouldn't even be in the elevator, and your time at Grey-Sloan would be unbearably awkward from here on out.

Your heart sank as you got onto the elevator and Amelia was nowhere to be seen. You puffed out your cheeks and exhaled. You'd fucked up. You were glad the elevator was empty this time because you were sure the disappointment showed on. your face. You were not good at hiding your emotions, and you'd prefer to be left alone with this one.

The doors had almost creaked shut when a hand shot out to stop them. An out-of-breath Amelia stepped in, smiling, and leaned against the wall.

"Wow," she breathed. "Almost missed you."

You shuffled your feet and tried to act normal, even though your heart was in your throat.

"Thanks for the tea," she said, nudging your shoulder.

"Yeah!" you replied, probably a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, no prob."

"So... do you buy boba for all the girls or just me?"

You felt blood rush to your cheeks. "Uh..."

"Because I really hope it's just me."

You glanced at her in surprise and found her grinning at you, a little embarrassed, a little self-satisfied.

"Really?" you asked, not quite believing what you'd heard.

The elevator door opened on Amelia's floor, and she slipped a business card into your hand, her fingers lightly grazing yours. It felt like a bolt of electricity shooting through you.

"Call me and you can buy me dinner, too," she said, before stepping off the elevator, giving you a little salute as the door closed.

You looked at the card in your hand. On the front: all the usual business information. Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. Amelia Shepherd, M.D. Chief of Neurosurgery. On the the back: a phone number, scrawled in messy doctor's hand, with a little heart beside it.

Your heart swelled and you couldn't help but smile, bouncing on the balls of your feet. It worked! The boba worked! Seattle Best Tea didn't know it yet, but they'd just made you a regular for life.

[d-criss-news]

See an exclusive first look at Darren Criss’ return to Broadway in Maybe Happy Ending

The "Glee" actor stars as a Helperbot named Oliver, opposite Helen J. Shen making their Broadway debut as Claire.

There’s nothing new about an awkward meet-cute turning into a love story… But what if that love story is between two robots?

That’s the question posed by Maybe Happy Ending, a new musical coming to Broadway this fall, starring Emmy-winning Glee and The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story actor Darren Criss. The show also marks the Broadway debut of Helen J. Shen (The Lonely Few) and Dez Duron (The Voice). Featuring a book by Will Aronson and Hue Park, with music by Aronson and lyrics by Park, Maybe Happy Ending is helmed by Tony Award winner Michael Arden (Parade, Once on This Island), with scenic design by Dane Laffrey (A Christmas Carol).

Ahead of its debut, Entertainment Weekly has your exclusive first listen to the show, with a music video of Criss and Chen’s emotional duet, "When You’re in Love.”

Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen in "Maybe Happy Ending". MAYBE HAPPY ENDING THE MUSICAL/YOUTUBE

The musical — a big hit in its native South Korea, winning six 2016 Korean Musical Awards and the Richard Rodgers Production Award for the English-language version — made its American debut at Atlanta’s Alliance theater in 2019. Now the show is coming to the Great White Way with Criss and Shen as Oliver and Claire, two outcast HelperBots whose initial awkward encounter evolves into an unexpected relationship.

“There's a real pathos that kind of snuck up on me with these two,” Criss told EW of the HelperBot romance. “You think, 'Oh, cute, like androids falling in love, that sounds sweet.' But there's a lot more to that when you start to examine what it is to not only love something or someone, but the inexorable, unavoidable back end of love, which is loss.” Oliver is living the simple life of an outdated HelperBot when the story begins, tending to plants and listening to jazz in his one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Seoul. Then Claire comes by to borrow a charger, and changes everything. The video finds the HelperBots united by emotion, yet far apart as they process the swirling feelings of being in love for the first time. “When you’re in love, you’re never satisfied,” they lament. “The thing you want is always out of reach.”

By the end, they’re piecing together both the joys and painful realities of their newfound feelings. They sing, “Now I’m hoping that you feel all the things I feel / Wishing that you want me to sit beside you /Wanting now to learn all the things you are / Waiting for a chance to invite you in my heart.” If the prospect of seeing two bots find love isn’t enticing enough, Criss jokes that empathizing with the characters will at least give audiences a leg up in the AI apocalypse. “If there's any incentive to come see the show — other than a wonderful theatrical experience with a lot of beautiful universal themes and all that great stuff and fantastic music, and hopefully good performances — if not that, it's at least to soften the punishment and wrath of the AI takeover,” he laughed. Maybe Happy Ending begins previews at the Belasco Theatre on Wednesday, September 18. Tickets will go on sale to the general public beginning on Thursday, June 6 at 10AM.

Watch the "When You're In Love" music video above and read more of Criss' thoughts on the HelperBot romance below.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Can you start by telling me a little bit about Oliver and what's at the core of this character for you? Well, I'll tell you what, this is the first time I'm ever really doing any kind of talking about a show that I haven't had much familiarity with yet. And I'm not saying that to avoid talking about it so much as to highlight the unique nature of my involvement in this show because, at least if we're talking about the theater, specifically Broadway Theater, every show that I've ever done came with something of a legacy and was a show that I would have been very familiar with, and I think audiences at large, for the most part would've had a history with it.

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was my Broadway debut, massively popular, classic Broadway show, people knew it. Second one was, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I grew up as a teenager loving that show. And then the revival of American Buffalo, that's now a standard contemporary American classic and studied that in drama school and yada yada yada. So when talking about the show, I had a really good handle because the show had lived with me for most of my life. [Maybe Happy Ending] is a brand new show, which is wildly exciting. But I have yet to figure out that answer. I can tell you what his core is on paper, which is that Oliver is a Helperbot, something like a hundred years in the future where our technology helpers — in the way that we have our Alexas, and our Siris, and our digital systems, and our smart assistants — have evolved into more humanoid representations. He is a Model 3 in the world of Model 5's and is very much outdated, and kind of running the last of his powered up life in the world that we're watching him and coming to grips with the things that left him behind.

We got a little taste of it in the music video, but what do you think it is about the Oliver and Claire relationship that people will respond to? Or what did you respond to? There's nothing like being able to look at ourselves by looking through the eyes of things that aren't us. I find the most I'm ever moved about the human experience comes from animated films where you have non-human characters trying to figure out human emotions. It's a really great way for audiences to subconsciously look at their own experience objectively. It's funny that it takes inhuman characters to examine humanity in a way that feels somehow accessible. If you see yourself up there, it maybe hits too close to home. But you might think about it a little differently if you're suddenly looking at things through the objective lens of a true outsider — be it a cartoon fox or a mermaid wanting to be human.

So having said that, this is a story about two HelperBots, two robots “falling in love." Of course, they're not human, so they can't physically, literally intimately actually fall in love, but they have to sort of figure out what that means by way of how they've experienced human beings themselves, by cues they've gotten from their own owners and from the world around them. And when you start examining things like love, things like loss through the eyes of non-humanoid things that are trying to computationally analyze and synthesize those things, you sort of start to look at them in a different way. There are many things about the show — the premise was very interesting, and I think the design is exquisite, it's a wonderful theatrical experience. Getting to work with a longtime friend, Michael Arden is such a joy, and there's so many things about that that make this appealing to me. And of course the music is fun, and it's cute, and funny, and charming. But there's a real pathos that kind of snuck up on me with these two. You think, 'Oh, cute, like androids falling in love, that sounds sweet.' But there's a lot more to that when you start to examine what it is to not only love something or someone, but the inexorable, unavoidable back end of love, which is loss. And how do we deal with that? How and why do human beings willingly enter this contract if we know that on the other side of it, there is something that will hurt and that can hurt because love does come with loss, whether it's loss of self, loss of wholeness.

And this show really shows a really beautiful balance of these beings trying to suss out thousands of years of human meditation — of all the hundred thousand songs and poems and stories that have tried to help us understand this balance of love and loss, and the highs and the lows of it are pretty profound. er. In “When You’re In Love” there's the sentiment that being in love is the loneliest you can be. Is that something that you immediately connected with, or was that surprising?

I think that song's very interesting because it's them putting the pieces together. Many lines in the song that talk about how being loved does just constantly leave you with a sense of longing. Which I think goes back into the main thesis, which is love in many ways is loss. They kind of coexist in this yin-yang. It's just one's much more fun and more accessible to talk about, but they kind of come hand in hand. Again, the systematic exploration of all of the ones and zeros of what love is — it's a lot of ones, but it is also a lot of zeros, and one of those things is being lonely and the feeling of not being whole without a certain thing. Which I think is a really good connector to what this show talks about, which is the function of the things in our life that we lose. It is funny that we are getting closer and closer to the realities of what this show presents and suggests. The idea that Siri could be a person in a hundred years isn't absurd, it's not a crazy idea. Even talking about things like robots or artificial intelligence, it's an immediate thing that is part of the cultural fabric and a continual discussion about how and where and why it's going to be part of our life.

But even without talking about those sort of more sci-fi leaning things, technology is in many ways, like people in our life. I mean, people treat their phones like babies. We have attachments to our phones and the way that we need them in our lives and the way we care for them and the reliance we have on them. And the idea of shelf life and things being outdated, we're pretty comfortable with. It's more comprehensible with tech and objects. But it's funny that we have this cognitive dissonance between that and the idea of things being outdated and out of its prime is harder to grasp and a harder pill to swallow with people, and it's a harder journey to go on with people. But what happens when our objects become closer in likeness and experience to people? How are we going to wrap our brains around that and how will they wrap their brains or their programming around that? And how will they feel? Will they feel at all? How will they feel about their impermanence as it relates to ours and vice versa? So there's a lot of really, really nice questions being asked in this show.

Are you finding that it's changing your relationship to Siri and Alexa and your technology? As of now, absolutely not. Well, maybe in the future. Maybe. I'll bite my tongue… In a few years, who knows? She's listening. I'll be nice to you Siri, I promise. As long as you're nice to me when you decide to take over the planet. Well, after you've played a Helperbot, you've got an in. Hopefully that'll soften the AI takeover, they'll let us loose. If there's any incentive to come see the show — other than a wonderful theatrical experience with a lot of beautiful universal themes and all that great stuff and fantastic music, and hopefully good performances — if not that, it's at least to soften the punishment and wrath of the AI takeover. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

[whoahoney]

i’ll always be here…

Steve Harrington x Reader Request

Summary: Reader is late for her period and Steve comforts her

Content Warnings: pregnancy scare, mentions of sex, mature themes and language, pining, love confession, fluff, comfort, slight angst, ✨gets a lil spicy at times✨pervy thoughts

A/N: requested by one of my lovelies, please enjoy this sweet fluffy fluff just for you! I’m so glad everything worked out! you know who you are 💖

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

‘How late is late enough???’

She’d wondered yet again, staring at her closet where the pregnancy test stayed hidden at the back, wrapped in a plastic sack, stuck in a brown bag, stuffed inside an old shoebox of rocks she’s kept her whole life. Granted it was a great hiding place for weed, she really didn’t need to hide it from anyone.

She just didn’t want it staring at her.

And now she was left wondering, over and over again if she could take the test yet. And then into the rabbit hole of ‘If I could, would I? Could I?’

Approximately five weeks ago, Y/n partook in a drunken fling, a cute boy from her psych class who happened to be at a party her friend dragged her to. She’d been especially mopey since she hadn’t heard much from her good friend Steve— otherwise known as the love of her life.

The beginning of the school year was always busy for both of them, Steve going to trade school closer to home and her going to a state university in the city. They’d kept up with their weekly phone calls, sometimes skipping one in between every once in a while, but around Halloween things kinda fell off on Steve’s end.

She’d spoken to his answering machine too many times to try again, beginning to feel like a desperate ex.

“C’mon, he’s not your boyfriend, why don’t you come to the party and get one?? It won’t be hard for you! Maybe then Harrington will wake the fuck up!” Her roommate Brandi cried from the front door, her blue shimmery dress matching her eyeshadow perfectly. She sauntered into the living room and looked over her friend's state.

“If you come with, I’ll get us cookies after.” She proposed, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Y/n weighed the offer and sighed exasperatedly, “You know I can’t turn down drunk cookies.”

Brandi celebrated as Y/n trudged back to her room to make herself presentable.

When they were at the party, Brandi spotted Cole Walker and waved him over, his stunning smile set on Y/n. “Look who’s coming over.” Brandi murmured in her ear. When Y/n saw Cole she blanched, catching the sight of his quaffed hair and square chin, believing him to be Steve for a moment as he took off his dark sunglasses. When she realized it was Cole, she felt a different feeling; first disappointment but then… opportunity?

Cole nodded at the both of them cordially, “It’s good to see you! I didn’t know you came to these.” He’d said to her. Y/n chuckled and shook her head, “I don’t!”

And three hours later, she was sneaking out of his dorm. He’d passed out seconds after he came, and neither of them had even stopped to think about protection.

So today, she sat here and waited; welcoming any and all incoming cramps or maybe an unexpected gush when she stood.

Anything. Please, God, anything.

And suddenly, her phone rang. She jumped and took a deep breath before she picked it up carefully, placing it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“There you are! God, have I missed you.” Steve breathed in relief.

Y/n stifled her gasp, tears welling up in her eyes at his voice alone. “Steve! Hi! Oh my god!” She smiled before her heart dropped back into her stomach. “Where have you been?!” She asked urgently.

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry.. I know I’ve been kinda MIA—“

“—Kinda?!”

“Okay, really MIA,” He edited. “This shits a lot harder than I thought it would be, Y’know? The workload is double, I still haven’t made any friends—my charm is not working, like at all,” she could practically see him counting off the reasons his life was going out of control on his fingers, “I have signed up for every study group I possibly can and by the end of this I am determined I will be the greatest pharmacist you’ve ever dreamed of.” He promised, slumping back in his swivel chair at his desk in his bare apartment. “It’s just gonna take all of my sanity, time, and money.” He chuckled.

For a moment while he rambled she forgot all about her troubles from the last month and some, just listening to his voice over the line was comfort enough. “So, what have you been up to?” Is all that brought her back to earth.

“Oh, you know…” she fiddled with the cord as she searched for an answer. She wasn’t the best with lies, let alone lying to Steve. “This and.. and that.” She cringed.

“This and that, eh? You been staying out of trouble?” He joked, though he waited for her response to gauge her answer.

“Oh, you know me.” She chuckled half heartedly.

And that’s how Steve knew. “Cut the crap, L/n, talk to me—what’s wrong?” He asked quieter.

“Nothing, Steve, don’t worry—“

“So there IS something!” He accused.

Her mouth ran dry and Brandi’s boyfriend knocked on her door to tell her they were home with dinner. “Hey, Steve, I gotta go, but, uh, I’ll call you later!” She said and hung up without a goodbye before she could catch herself.

Steve sat dumbfounded and had no other choice than to wonder why she shut down so quickly.

There had been a man’s voice in the background, was there someone else? Is that why she had to go so fast without saying goodbye? The anxiety began to eat him from the inside out, standing him to his feet and pacing the room for a bit. After another long and grueling internal struggle, Steve hopped in his car and drove the three hours to see the girl that lived in his head rent free from the moment he met her.

By the time Steve was knocking on her door, Y/n and Brandi were in their pj’s and watching the X Files on tv, the thumping making them jump and cry out in fear. “Fuck! This alien shit has me too wound up.” Brandi shuffled quietly to the hallway, waiting to grab her baseball bat until after Y/n looked through the peephole.

“It’s Steve!” She whispered and turned to her equally surprised friend. Brandi motioned for her to get the door as she scurried away to her room to give them privacy.

Y/n looked down at her large shirt and slippers, pushing her hair behind her ears and straightening her glasses before she opened the door. Of course he had to look like that. All perfect and smiley and happy to see her with that special glitter to his eye that seemed to only be present when she was around. “Steve.” She said easily as if she hadn’t checked.

“Hey, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” He asked, scanning the apartment behind her for any trace of a visitor. She shook her head, “No! No, Brandi just went to bed.”

Steve nodded as she stepped to the side and allowed him into the house. He lingered in the small kitchen as he waited for her to lock the door back.

“I’m really happy to see you, but what are you, uh, doing here?” She asked.

Steve chuckled and cleared his throat uneasily before asking for some water, to which she obliged immediately. “Can we, uh, go to your room?” He asked after a sip. Y/n’s eyebrows raised, though it wasn’t a strange request, only strange circumstances.

“Yeah! Sure, right this way.” She attempted an easy joke as she led him through the dim house. Her heart pounded in her chest, wandering—spiraling into fear. Was this impromptu visit coming with news? Is that why he wants to be even more alone??

She shut the door behind him, smiling lightly when she saw him flop onto the end of her bed, his hair bouncing with him as he snatched a pillow from the head of the mattress and held it to him in a snuggle. “Okay, will you tell me what’s going on now?” She asked, joining him on the opposite side as she normally would.

Steve shot up, “I was gonna ask you the same question.” Y/n began to chew on her thumbnail as she pondered the possibilities.

It’s just a scare, he’s your best friend, the last person to judge you or hate you.

He wouldn’t hate her, right?

As she lost herself to her thoughts, she didn’t notice Steve right himself and scoot closer, their thighs touching. “C’mon, honey, talk to me. Are you okay?” He held her hand tenderly, sparks shooting up her arm at the contact. She took a soft gasp between her lips before exhaling with a tremble.

“I-I don’t know how to tell you, Steve.” She shrugged, waiting for the right words to formulate in her head on their own. Steve took a worried lip between his teeth as he waited.

This was it. She found a boyfriend and couldn’t be his friend anymore.

He prepared himself for counter-arguments, thinking of examples to show his honor and integrity. He thought about the many years spent together doing homework, getting food, late night phone calls when they couldn’t sleep. Did he know she whenever there was Steve, there was Y/n. And he couldn’t bear to let that fall apart over some guy.

“You don’t have to, Y/n/n, I-I shouldn’t have come until you asked.” He shook his head at himself.

“No!” She blurted. Steve looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, his ears tuned in to hear everything she had to say. “—No, I want you here. I’m so glad you’re here, Steve—“ she choked on an unexpected sob.

Steve looked at her strangely and scooted closer, placing a hand on her bare knee. “Then what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He stared at the side of her head, his brown eyes desperate and shiny.

She turned to him, her eyes already tinged with pink, and sighed, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip until it was bloody. “I’m late for my period.” She uttered.

Steve nodded, though nothing seemed to register in his mind— as long as he’d known Y/n she hadn’t mentioned any guys, let alone sex. He’d known she wasn’t a virgin, but through their friendship she hadn’t shown any interest in hookups. She placed her hand on his and sighed to keep herself from throwing up.

“It was some holiday party Brandi invited me to,” she explained slowly, Steve’s eyes snapping back up to meet hers. Where was this headed? “This guy from my psych class was there, and we talked and like…hit it off…” she shrugged, absolutely loathing herself for having to tell this story. This is the moment she should’ve been thinking about when she was walking back to Cole’s dorm at the end of the night. Steve’s face was full of confusion and disappointment, in her or for himself, she didn’t know.

He’d tried desperately to get over her, no amount of one night stands or bottle blondes could dissolve the hold she had on him. And she didn’t even notice it. Not even once. Steve eventually accepted she wasn’t interested in him farther than being a good friend. He quickly decided if he was stuck in the friend zone, he’d be the best friend she ever had.

“Oh!” He managed, quiet surprise lacing his voice though his eyes turned away from her, the simple action driving a stake into her chest, “So… does your… your boyfriend know this is—”

“He’s not my boyfriend—I haven’t even looked in his direction since— it was a mistake I was just—“ she cut herself off before she could further spill more embarrassing information to the boy she craved so desperately. Lovers or not, she needed his support. She had no idea how she managed before him.

Steve met her eyes again at her revelation, his shoulders and head looking lighter than before. “Just what?”

She breathed regretfully, knowing things couldn’t possibly get worse from here. “I was just—lonely?” She shrugged, her eyes on the floor.

There was a thick silence between them, the tv was audible from the living room on the other side of the wall. Steve took a deep breath and listened to the ache in his chest; thinking about the guy that got to have her in ways he’d only allowed himself to imagine.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered right as she did. He looked at her with the most confusion he’d worn all evening. “Why are you sorry?” He asked.

She shook her head, “Uh, I-I dunno, Steve. I just—I dunno, I felt like I was lying to you, I don’t wanna do that.” Tears pricked her eyes as she fought them with teeth sinking into her lip. Steve noticed the white knuckles on top of her balled up fists and scooted closer until they touched. He took her hand and uncurled her fingers, running his thumb over her palm to soothe the indentions she’d left.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, honey.” He urged in a whisper, his other hand coming up to her face to stroke the red and worried lip she’d just set free. “H-How… late are you?” He asked tentatively, still looking down at their intertwined hands.

“Three days.” She said quietly.

Steve cracked a small smile, “Hey, that’s okay! That’s only three days—and y’know, I read in a magazine one time that ‘stress can deter a woman’s cycle’, is that real??” He asked with a pointed finger.

A weight had been lifted off her as she thought about it. “I mean, yeah, that would make sense…” she nodded.

“See! Maybe take some time and next week if you’re still late, take a test. But I want you to know,” he said, his manner shifting as he looked her intently in the eyes again, “No matter what happens—with this or anything else— I will be right behind you.”

She sighed, tears welling up in her eyes at the affirmation. “Y-You promise?” She could only ask in a rasp, her eyes glittering with tears and her face crumpling. Steve’s brows wrinkled and he pulled her in for a tight hug.

“I got you.” He whispered to her. “Even if you didn’t want me.” He mentioned, though he wasn’t sure why he did.

His mind still floated back to the guy she’d shared the night with; What had he looked like? What was his major? Was he funny? Charming like him? Did he know she made funny face pancakes when she was sad and took walks on pretty days when she was happy? Did he know there’s a spot at the crook of her elbow that is unbelievably ticklish and that he wished so badly to plant relentless kisses there until she was choking on her own laughter.

“I’ll always want you, Steve.” She said without thinking, burying her nose in his shirt and breathing in the hints of coconut from his soap and contently sighing her exhale.

His eyes perked at the sound of that. “Really? Y’promise?” He asked before releasing her so he could see her face.

“Always.” She nodded sincerely.

Steve spent the night, happily taking the open spot in her bed. They laid facing each other, leaving a generous distance between them. Things were quiet but comfortable since their big conversation. The air was thick with silence in her dark bedroom, the blue hue of night streaming in through the open blinds and exposing the moon.

“Y’know…” Steve began carefully, still mapping his words, “If worst comes to worst… the kid could be a Harrington.” He shrugged.

Y/n crinkled her brow, studying his almost hopeful eyes. She shook her head, “Steve, no, that’s not—that’s so not fair to you. You don’t have to save me from my mistakes. Whatever happens I’ll figure—“

“—We. We will figure something out, like we always do. Y’know how many pickles you’ve gotten me out of?!” He asked incredulously, as if he were offering to put her name on a project or gift she had no part of. Not offering to raise her theoretical bastard child with her and sacrifice his own love life and happiness to protect and support his friend.

“Steve this is more than just a pickle— this isn’t distracting your grandma so you can sneak back into your room, okay? This is- this is your dream! If you do that for me, you won’t get your-your brood of Harringtons or a barbie doll housewife, and you deserve to have those things! I don’t want you to waste your life on someone you don’t love that way.”

Steve shot up in bed and looked down at her with bulging eyes. “Are you kidding me?! Is it really not obvious?” His brows were skewed with his fluster.

She shook her head and sat up on her elbows. “What?”

Steve scoffed a laugh of disbelief and covered his face with his hands and groaned while flopping back onto his back. He sighed and covered up. “Nothing, it was dumb—you should sleep.” He sighed and rolled over, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“No!” She sat up again and tapped on his back gently, even just feeling the warmth of him under her fingers had her heart stuttering. “No, it’s not dumb, I-I’d love nothing more than to have you with me through this. I couldn’t do it without you, believe me. But it’s not fair to let you c-commit to me that way.” She explained.

Steve looked over his shoulder with hurt in his eyes. “Y/n/n… being with you is my dream. Whatever we’re doing.” He shrugged simply.

Y/n gaped, her eyes blinking as she processed his words. “What do you—but why would—“

“Oh, Christ.” He said as he sat up, bringing his hands up to her face and pulling her to him to envelope her lips in a warm and firm kiss that had her insides thundering and melting beneath his touch.

Cole hadn’t felt like this. Not one bit.

Steve released her lips with a sharp click, keeping her close and looking in her wide and now realizing pupils. “Honey, c’mon.” He urged quietly, waiting for her to say something—anything that could tell him he didn’t just fuck up years of friendship.

He released her cheeks slowly as he watched her heavy breath heaving her chest. Her cheeks were pink where he’d held her, and her eyes looked glassy and her mouth gaped, like she’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Steve?” She barely whispered, the sound of his name slipping between her teeth and lips with hardly any breath behind it.

His eyes met hers again, the usually warm brown was cold and dark in the room, moonlight shining through her windows illuminated his frame in silver. The open blinds cast shadows over her, their careful, gliding descent down her face was the only indication she was moving closer to him, to press her lips against his. He caught a gasp in his throat right as their lips connected, her warm, soft hands caressed his face like he had hers and he relished how gentle every one of her touches were against his skin.

“Oh, god.” He mumbled against her, the sounds of their breath struggling against one another and the feeling of her tongue brushing against his lips was easily pushing him farther and farther over the edge of logic. He wanted her. He’d been wanting her. He’d waited for so long for this moment, and all he could think of was what would be next.

But then he remembered himself and why he was here. His hands gently slid up into her hair, around the back of her neck, the warmth making her moan into him before he disconnected her lips from his.

“Y/n/n… I’ve always—I love you.” He nodded. She held onto his hands that held her as she nodded in agreement. “I love you too, Steve. I always have.” She leaned in again, and who was he to deny her another kiss from his lips?

After managing to keep their hands to themselves despite the lost time, the two agreed they would stop here for the night. Until they knew what was waiting for them in the next weeks.

The next morning the two found themselves intertwined in the middle of her bed, legs tangled and arms encircling each other's bodies. The slivers of exposed skin on skin stuck to each other, a feeling she would sit in until he moved first. The orange morning light streamed in on them, his deep morning sigh and stretch was evident of his waking, a small smile stretching on her face at the sound.

When he relaxed again, his arms wrapped her back up gently, stroking her shoulder under his hand. He peered down at her to see if her eyes were moving and he was delighted to see his Y/n was awake. She turned her head to him, her puffy morning eyes still squinting a bit as she smiled at him.

“Hi.” She greeted quietly, laying her cheek on his chest and letting her hair splay down his stomach. She would see the chest hair peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and couldn’t wait to find out how it felt if she ran her hand up the plain of his torso.

“Hey.” He smiled, the fingers on his other hand finding her scalp for a soothing head scratch. She sighed and smiled at his touch, her content face was one he wanted to kiss. And kiss. And kiss.

“You okay?” He asked after a moment. Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded, “Never better.”

It was decided Steve would stay through the weekend, neither of them explicitly mentioning their night as they went about their regular business, sweet and soft touches mixed in more often. When Y/n made them lunch, he’d stand behind her with his hands on her waist, his mouth planting soft kisses on her shoulder as she worked and tried not to turn into a puddle of warm mush on the floor.

When Steve offered to help her with some frames she’d been wanting hung up, she watched him from her bed as he hammered the nails into the wall, happily listening to him grumble about landlords and their policies, about how he would fill a thousand nail holes for her if it meant the pictures made her happy, and of course admiring the way his ass looked in his jeans.

She didn’t discount the way her heart fluttered more fiercely when he’d say words like ‘we’ or ‘us’, the way he’d reach over and hold her hand in the car or on the couch, or how she kept catching him staring at her with a faraway smile on his lips before looking away with a blush and chuckle.

They sat together the next night, eating take out and watching some re-run. Brandi was spending the rest of the weekend at her boyfriends house, leaving them completely alone.

The normalcy was warm, the way they leaned against one another as they ate, sometimes asking for a bite of the other's food, the way they chuckled quietly at the same things. Steve would sneak a peek at her, her full chewing mouth quirking up in a small smile before chuckling through her nose at the skit that played on TV.

The night turned darker but the two remained on the couch, her legs over his lap and his arm around her, keeping her in place. Her favorite blanket covered them as they stared at the screen, still not bringing up the true matters at hand. “I’ve—ahem,” he cleared his throat of the rasp in his voice, “I’ve had a great time this weekend, Y/n/n.” He smiled softly, his fingers now playing with the soft ends of her hair.

She smiled brightly at him, “Me too. I-I couldn’t tell you what I’d be doing if you weren’t here, Y’know?” She said quietly. Steve placed his hand back on her cheek and tried not to grin too big when she leaned into his touch like a cat.

“I’ll always be here.” He said, her eyes snapping to him as he did.

She knew he was telling the truth just by the way he looked at her. Simple words that carried a thousand pounds each. Just the one word alone, ‘always’ sent a shiver through her.

The breath left her as his eyes turned darker and hungrier. She couldn’t tell if she pulled him closer by his hand or if he pulled her to him, but it didn’t matter. Either way resulted in their mouths clashing together and her straddling his lap.

She kissed him like she was starving, licking into his mouth and tenderly sinking her teeth into his bottom lip being the only way to satiate the hunger burning in her core. Steve groaned openly as she released his lip and dove down to his freckled neck to resume her affection there. His fingers dug into her back and upper thigh, and she hoped he’d leave small dime sized bruises for her to cherish after he went back to school.

Until she got to see him again. The idea burned unpleasantly inside of her, provoking her to suck the spot just above his collarbone into her mouth, running her tongue over it soothingly before biting.

“Ah! Oh, shit—“ he exclaimed, making her jump back in alarm.

“Was that-was it too much?” She asked behind her flushed cheeks. Steve shook his head adamantly, “No! No, come back.” He breathed, pulling her back to his lips, “I love you—I’m yours, do whatever you want to me, baby.” He whispered against her mouth before taking her lips in his again. Her eyes burned with tears at the sound, along with her throbbing core he grinded her down onto his lap.

Suddenly, a gush appeared between her thighs. Nothing carnal, nothing crazy, but it made her eyes shoot open, and before his eyes could adjust from their closure, she was off his lap and in the bathroom. Steve cocked his head as he heard the door slam. He froze. What just happened?

“Uh, Y/n?” He called, abandoning his place on the couch to approach the bathroom door. Did she change her mind? Was that too much?

“I DID IT!” She cried happily.

“What?” He asked in momentary confusion. The door in front of him flew open, and she wore a bright smile and her eyes were wide. “I got my period!”

“You got it?!” His eyes popped wide open, his arms slightly raised and open in front of him for her to walk into as she nodded eagerly.

“I’ve never been so happy to bleed!” She cried and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly to him, a smile of relief flooding his face. “Oh thank god.” He whispered in relief.

Her heart sank in her chest at his words. “So, what-what does this mean?” She asked as she pulled back to look at him. He shot her a curious look. “What, your period? Means you’re not pregnant, right?” He asked with slight panic.

She shook her head, “No, no, I meant what does this mean for.. us?” She shrugged one shoulder.

“No-Nothing, honey,” his hand found her face. “Always here, remember?” He leaned closer, placing a peck on her lips. “I love you, maybe even more now that I know you aren’t gonna have someone else’s baby.” He joked.

She rolled her teary eyes out of habit at his antics. He swiped his thumb under her eye to catch the falling tear. “I must say I may have been a little excited at the thought of watching you get all.. big.. and… round..” he trailed off dreamily, his hands sliding down her shoulders and to her waist, his gaze landing on her chest and stomach as he sighed.

“Someday, though.” He nodded, speaking to himself more than her. He looked back up to her eyes and smiled at her blushing cheeks.

“Someday?” She asked, stepping forward and into his kiss as he nodded.

The next weekend, Y/n made the trip to surprise Steve, hoping to stay the weekend at his apartment close to Hawkins. She’d been vibrating with excitement as she stood in the hall, hearing footsteps pad up to the door where she had her thumb over the peephole.

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Why don’t you open the door and find out?” She said, unable to keep the smile from her voice. The locks immediately slid and clicked, one right after another. The knob jiggled before the door flew open and Steve stood shirtless with a gaping mouth and a smile that lit up his whole face.

“Y/n/n!” He said as she threw her arms around him, he buried his fingers in her hair and kept her close with his other arm wrapped around her back.

“Surprise!” She said quietly, taking in the scent of the left over cologne on his bare skin. He chuckled against the side of her head and pulled her inside, shutting the door with his foot. His hands found her cheeks and pulled her in for a thousand small kisses with words scattered in between.

“What are you—doing here?” He asked across her cheeks and nose. She held onto his wrists and giggled, “I thought it was my turn to surprise you, you know?” She cut herself off by pulling his cheeks down for a sprinkling of her own kisses. “—Missed you.” She mumbled against his lips before releasing him, her eyes wide with anxiety as a thought clicked, “I-If that’s okay?” Her lips ghosted over the skin of his collarbone, driving him wild as he felt her breath tickling him.

“Oh, honey, of course it is!” He implored before kissing her forehead, “—I missed you too.” He said with a flirty lilt to his tone as he stroked her back and found her lips back on his neck.

“And—“ she deepened her kisses at the crook of it, her tongue getting involved before she pulled back, “—wanted to tell you—“ she moved to the other side and backed him to the couch in the center of the room, “I’m off my period.” She grinned as she pulled back.

His eyes widened before he spoke, “So—so we can—“ she pushed him down to sit on the couch and nodded as she straddled him. His hands found her ass immediately and finally noticed she wore the plaid skirt he’d always dreamed of. Her tits were perfect and rounded in the black sweater and he palmed them through the cashmere.

He’d waited so long—so long— for this moment. Spending night after night imagining the way her tits looked: if they hung lower, if her nipples looked different ways or straight on, how big they would be and if there’d be any freckles for him to befriend if he ever had the pleasure and blessing of seeing them. Steve held no preference, as long as he could put his hands and mouth on them, he didn’t care one bit.

But tonight would be the night those thoughts and questions would be put to rest. Tonight the veil would be lifted and he would see her in all her glory. “Oh my god...” is all he could mutter as she picked up the hem at her waist and peeled the sweater off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple months later, Steve walked the short distance from his girlfriend’s apartment to the building of her last lecture of the day. It was another Friday where Steve was to come to her, except this time he wanted to surprise her again.

He’d been coming to her apartment every other Friday at 7 pm for their weekends to begin, so this week he thought he’d start things earlier by picking her up from class and walking her home. He looked at his watch, the class due to be dismissed any moment now.

He made the leisurely trip to a large tree in the middle of the campus yard, not fifty yards from the entrance. He leaned against the tree and tried not to smile at the thought of her face when she would spot him. Then he thought back to how he’d found the cafe she was always praising, and hoped to buy her a cup on the way home.

Y/n was approaching the dark doors at the front of the school when she heard her name called from behind her. “Wait up!” Cole said loudly from the end of the hall as he jogged to her. She reached the doors and shoved them open, leaning on the door for him to catch up.

“What’s up?” She asked blandly as he approached, his hand holding the door open for her as she continued her walk. The yard was full of students at this point, making Steve’s presence against the tree unknown.

“I was uh, just wondering why I haven’t seen you around the dorms lately.” He shrugged, “And was hoping I could borrow your notes on last week's lecture—I was sick.”

She nodded as they reached the last steps and opened her binder to carefully remove the three pages he requested. “I went to Trisha’s party a couple weeks ago hoping to see you there.” He mentioned.

She didn’t bother to look up, didn’t notice Steve approaching from behind his great-value-wannabe. But he couldn’t help but slow down once he was in hearing distance to see how the rest unfolded.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.“

“—thought we had fun…” Cole shrugged discouraged, looking at the ground between them.

“I did have fun…” She said with an unsure lilt in her voice. “It’s just, well, I’ve been spending time with my boyf—Steve!” She dropped the conversation and a smile broke out on her face at the sight of her boyfriend against the returning green of the courtyard. He grinned as he approached, noting how she stepped around Cole and ran into his arms, binder, bag, and all.

She looked up at Steve and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, “I missed you! What are you doing here?” She gushed.

“Well, I was getting too predictable! And the weather was too nice to let my girl walk home by herself.” He smiled down at her, stroking her cheek delicately as he answered.

She blushed and chuckled in response, “You are the sweetest, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Steve blushed and looked back up at the poor guy getting let down by his sweet girlfriend when he noticed the striking resemblance between them. The boy was handsome, but his square features didn’t quite fit together like Steve’s did. Though, the hair—the hair was on point. They both carded a hand through their perfectly tousled locks as they eyed each other.

“Oh! Cole, this is my boyfriend, Steve.” She smiled as Steve took the binder from her arms and slung her bag over his shoulder. He sent the boy a friendly nod though his eyes were hard and trained on him. Cole sent a nervous nod back, “Nice to meet you man. Anyway, thanks for the notes.” Cole held them up in gratitude before walking away briskly.

“I need them back before the quiz next week!” She called after him, Cole turning and throwing a thumbs up.

“Or else I’m gonna have to kick your—“

“He’s kidding! He’s kidding.” She said with a hand clasped over his giggling mouth as he fought against her, “No I’m not!” He called once he freed himself from her hand, laughing harder the faster the boy ran.

Once Cole was out of sight, the two studied each other. “What was that?” She asked with a chuckle as they began to walk.

Steve shrugged. “I may not have gotten into university but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that was the guy you slept with.” He snorted and threw an arm around her as she blanched and gaped. He laughed again at her fluster and pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her head. “C’mon I thought it was cute!”

She rolled her eyes and unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders to pull him along with a groan.

“So tell me… do you have a type or is your type just me?” He asked smugly, his heart melting as she covered her face in embarrassment—her blush stroking his ego much more than it should’ve, and then offered to buy her a cup of hot chocolate.

-

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Taglist babies 🤍

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade @marvel-sw-lover

[georgiapeach30513]

When I Hear Your Name

Summary:  You should have never left.  Things were perfect.

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit, dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD, kidnapping, somnophilia, non con/dub con, degradation, bondage, fingering, squirting, creampie, pussy plug, breeding kink, holding people captive, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.7K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

A/N:  My entry for @the-slumberparty Week 1 Challenge.  My random generator theme was ‘Descent into Madness’ and the setting was ‘Military’.  

Steve Rogers was a lot of things; he was strong, charismatic, a natural leader, righteous, handsome, sweet, and stubborn.  He was different before he went off to war.  He was always about making you giggle.  Holding you tight when you got scared.  His sweet lips nipping at every inch of your skin.  His body had yours memorized.

Things were harder when he came back.  There was this odd quality about him.  He wasn’t mean, he was just…distant.  It was like he was living from afar.  Never completely present with you.  He didn’t talk to you.  Barely looked at you.  He was just there taking up space.

Once upon a time he showered you with gifts.  Even if you didn’t have much, Steve managed to get that diamond bracelet that you had eyed for years.  Surprised you with his own homemade bouquets of flowers.  It became a weekly thing to see these adorable, if not crudely put together, flowers.  He tried, and that’s all you cared about.  Even would hand deliver them.

His romance was gone, as was his will to enjoy life.  There was no passion behind his actions.  He was but a meat suit with little to no emotions.  No excitement, no love, no passion.  It was infuriating.  It was worse seeing Steve like that.  You couldn’t explain it.  Couldn’t make sense out of it.  And you felt yourself losing your joy everyday.  

You tried getting him the help he needed.  Tried to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough.  

“Moonbeam,” Bucky whispered in your ear as the two of you watched a blank Steve staring up at the ceiling, “you don’t deserve this.”

“But…I love him,” you look up at Bucky, and only then does Steve stir.  His eyes glaring straight at his best friend.  “He doesn’t deserve this either.  Bucky, what am I supposed to do?  He barely eats or sleeps.  Won’t go to therapy.  Won’t talk to me.  I want our life back.”

“Have you ever thought it wasn’t coming back?” Steve sits up in the bed, and you flinch, taking a step towards him.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, he sighs, leaning more into it.  This was proof he was still in there.  He always leaned into your touch.  You pet around his face, giving him a tearful smile when he looks up at you.  Opening his mouth, but no words came out.  It was heartbreaking to see this great man become a ghost of his former self.  No smiles were ever present on his beautiful face.  He was lost.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky says again when you turn to leave.  Steve’s feet bounced his legs around, but you couldn’t do it anymore.  It was eating away at your soul.  Your hope was nearly dwindled down to nothing.  

“Moonbeam?” Bucky races out to grab your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Back home, Buck.  I can’t,” you cry up at him, giving him a tight hug.  Blind to your boyfriend’s darkened eyes peering at the two of you.  “I tried.  He’s never coming back is he?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I hope he does.  I hope he finds himself.  But I can’t do this.  I can’t see him like this anymore,” giving him a kiss to his cheek, you leave everything behind.  You didn’t need a reminder of how happy your life was.  How many dreams you and Steve had made come true, and how many you were still waiting on.  You wiped your hands clean, and it was the hardest thing you had ever done.

“What did you do?” Steve screams as he races towards Bucky.  “She left me, and it’s all your fault!” He knocks Bucky onto the floor, crawling over him to slam his head into the floor over and over again.  “You did this!”

“You did this, Steve!  She wants you, and you won’t fix it!”

“I can’t.”

——

“You got another package,” the girl at the front desk snips, smacking her gum, feigning annoyance.  “You know the boss is mad about all these personal deliveries.”

“They’re not personal when I don’t know who’s sending them,” opening the box, you gasp at the forever roses that were supposed to keep for over a year, and one in the center was a pure gold rose.  

‘I’ll love you until the last rose dies,’ ugh, so cliche.  If this was for you, he didn’t know you at all.

“You have no idea who’s sending you these,” she smacks her gum right beside you, and you have to silently count to ten.

“Nope.  Not even dating.  Probably someone gave them the wrong place of work.  Throw it away,” you didn’t care about gifts anymore anyways.  You didn’t care about love or happily ever after.  You cared about peace, and yourself.  You vowed to never fall in love again.  And you wouldn’t

“Some man just spent hundreds of dollars and you think he doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope.  Clearly a mistake.”

“Your name is on the address,” giving you an incredulous look.  She believed you were bullshitting her and everyone in this office.  “No man is going to go out of his way to do this, along with flowers every Friday, if he wasn’t sure it was you.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, turning back to look at her.  “What did you say?”

“You get flowers sent to you every Friday,” she blows a giant bubble with her gum, and you march back to the box, grabbing it up.  “So you know who sent them?”

“Nope,” you lie.  It wouldn’t be Steve.  This was a cruel joke.  You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few years.  These weren’t hand delivered like Steve did it.  They had it all wrong.  

You go out the back door, and slam the box into the garbage.  Your chest heaves with frustration.  “God, I can’t get away from him.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” before you can scream, someone’s thick hand has been placed around your mouth as he drags you into a van.  You try kicking and screaming.  Try for anyone to get your attention, but it was useless.  

“Any second now,” your assailant grunts as your vision goes blurry.  “There ya go,” he hums, watching your eyes flutter close.  “Sweet dreams, Moonbeam.”

——

Your eyes pop open quickly, as you blink your vision back into view.  Tugging at your arms above your head, and your feet, but you were not going anywhere.  Hands tied above your head, while your legs were spread eagle.  Taking a deep breath to keep from crying, you look around.  

“Welcome home, darling,” Steve says sweetly, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water.  “I worried that you weren’t going to wake up.  It had been too long.  Your pulse was still steady.  You must have needed that extra bit of sleep.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse, like you had been screaming.  “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you asking questions?  You’re home, you should be happy.  Look, I’m talking to you again.  I tried sending you flowers, you didn’t thank me.  I had plans to hold you while we walked on the beach and talk for hours, but you didn’t call.  Had this big night planned for a romantic dinner, and then to take you dancing, but…yeah, you didn’t reach out to me.  So, I had to do what I had to do.  We’ve traded diamond bracelets for leather cuffs,” he gives the binds on your wrist a little tap.

“And they look so pretty on you.  Water?” You shake your head no, but he lowers a straw to you anyways.  “I suggest you drink some water.  You’re tired,” with his free hand he slaps at your core, chuckling when you yip.  

“What have you done?”

“You took too long to wake up.  I wanted what you promised was mine,” you cock up your eyebrow, needing him to go on, “You said that your pussy belonged to me.  So I took it.”

“You fucked me while I slept?” You growl up at him.  Disgusted that this was the man you had once loved.

“Yeah,” he answers easily.  “It’s my pussy.  It was just glistening with your juices.  If you weren’t turned on why were you so fucking wet?  Face it, Moonbeam, that cunt was made for me.  So I gave her what she wanted.  You needed a good hard fucking.  You were pitiful.  You still say my name in your sleep, too.  You know that?”

“Who was driving the van?”

“Hmm?” Steve smiles, looking down the expanse of your body.  Cupping your mound, moaning at the feeling of you, “Still wet.  You’re a slut for me, you know?” His hand slides up and down your split, and you try not to react, but damn if it didn’t feel good.  He knew your body.  Steve studied your body like he was being graded, this didn’t change.

“Who was driving the van?  There was someone else.  Was it Bucky?” You croak, letting a desperate mewl rise up out of your chest.  

“Why do you care so much about fucking Bucky?”

“I didn’t say anything about fucking Bucky.  I asked who was driving the fucking van,” Bucky was a sore subject for him.  His hand moves a bit faster.  A bit too hard on your sensitive nub.  “Steve,” you whine, anything had to be better than this.  “Steve, I wanna feel you.”

“No, you don’t.  You’re asking about Bucky.”

“No.  I…uh…I just wanted to know who was with you.  But…all I want right now is you.  I forgot what you felt like, and,” you bite at your lip as the pleasure starts to build up.  Getting a devilish smile from Steve.  He slows down his motions more, and you whimper out his name.  “Steve, I can’t remember.”

“I’ll make sure you remember.  I’ll make sure you feel me for a month.  You’ll take a step and be so sore that you’ll know my cock was buried so deep in your greedy little cunt.”

“Yes!  Yes, that’s…that’s exactly what I want.  Steve,” you breathlessly answer when he takes off his shirt.  Silver scars crisscross over his arm, and you can’t stop staring at the odd pattern of them.  

“Steve,” moaning out his name when he jerks his pants down.  His cock springing free, looking just as godlike as him.  Dripping of precum, and he crawls in between your legs.  Rubbing his tip through your arousal before slapping his cock over your clit.  “Steve!”

He continues playing with you, until strings of sticky arousal connect the two of you, and you jerk at your cuffs, needing to feel him.  “Yeah, you get forced to take whatever I give you,” he laughs as you try to bring your thighs together.  “Pathetic.  Trying to deny yourself an orgasm,” he tsks at you, changing to slapping you with his hand.

The sharpness was sending euphoria that you had never felt through every inch of your body.  Flowing through you like your blood.  Continuing until you were screaming out his name, and he crams two fingers into your tight channel.  Curling his fingers as he stabs into you.  There was no time to rest as he chases another high for you.

Your cunt was making the most vulgar squelching sounds that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.  The noise echoing through the rest of the house, and Steve hoped he heard.  “Just.  Let.  Go,” he demands, letting his calloused fingers hit over a sensitive spot in your core.  

“It’s…it’s….there she fucking is!” Steve screams as you squirt onto his chest.  Your juices being catapulted to your stomach, and still he didn’t stop.  “One more time.  Then I’ll give you what you need.  Go…on,” he pulls his hand out while you soak his thigh.

At lightning speed he had his cock driving into you.  Hips thrusting his fat cock in your warmth.  You were already speaking in tongues.  Head tilted back as you worshiped at the altar of Steven Grant Rogers.  My god, he was hitting every single spot that you had.  This wasn't sweet love making.  This was an urgent need to have you say his name like a prayer screaming off your lips.  A deep desire to destroy you, break you, so that you would never leave him again.

More arousal spews out from around his length as you clench down.  Your walls missed him.  And they were hugging him tightly.  So tight you start to see stars.  “Don’t you give out on me.  I missed your pretty eyes!  Missed the way you looked when you were taking my cock.  Look at you…right where you were made to be, taking my cock.  My little sexdoll.  It’s what you were designed for, huh?”

You give him a head nod, trying to catch your breath.  It was too much.  “I told you to drink your water.  Maybe next time you’ll listen.  Molded to my cock.  Gonna keep you in here so I can play with you whenever I want, Moonbeam.  I do miss the way you scratched down my back though. Just like you’re doing with your hands.”

It was true, you had your hands in a fist so tight, your nails had brought blood to your palms.  “Fuck,” Steve growls, railing into you harder.  “One day, when you don’t try to leave me, I’ll let you ride on top of me.  Okay?  Let that pretty little ass ride on my dick.”

“Steve!”

“Yeah, I know.  I know, you missed me just as much as your pussy.  I mean, my pussy.  She was always mine, wasn’t she?”

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” You scream out again as he drives into you hard.  Making your body jump up the bed.  You felt him in your throat, and you wanted more.  “Steve!”

“I know!  Right…there!” One more final thrust has you both coming hard.  Your creams mix together as Steve tries to catch his breath.  “Beautiful.  Now,” he groans, pulling out of you.  His hand shoves up against your ruined cunt and he reaches over to the bedside drawer, grabbing a plug that he shoves into your mouth.

“This is extra important,” he drags it down your body before removing his hand, and pushing it into your sex.  “There, that will keep that in there while I take care of something.  When you have my child, you’ll never want to leave.  We’ll become a family again.”

He kisses you hard on the lips before leaving you in a state of partially awake, and halfway asleep.  Walking down to the basement where he sees the chair, and two angry glowing eyes.  “See?  I told you she wanted me.  Now, I’m going to take your muzzle off and feed you.  When she stays freely, I’ll let you go.  Hey!” He shouts when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Is that anyway to treat me?  I know you two had something going on.  This is to make sure you never think about fucking Moonbeam again.”

“It’s an expression.  I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck her.”

“Liar!” Steve shouts, clenching his fists together.  “She even said fucking Bucky.”

“I’ve never touched her!”

“Eh!” Steve holds up a glass of water with a straw, “Comply, soldier.  Quit fighting it.”

“You’ve gone fucking mad, Steve.  Let her help you.”

“I am,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a creepy smile as he puts the straw to Bucky’s mouth, “She’s going to give me babies.  I have my cum waiting in her snatch right now.  She’ll never leave.  And neither will you.  Not until you comply,” there was no use.  Bucky knew that Steve would keep him here until he gave him what he wanted.  It was over.

“Steve!” You scream from upstairs.  “Steve, please, don’t keep me here!  My parents have…they have…Steve!  I have somebody who needs me,” Steve slams the glass on the ground, knocking Bucky’s chair over.

“What was it that you didn’t do again?”

“I didn’t know, Steve!  I didn’t know!” Setting him back up right, Steve stomps up the stairs.  “Steve, let her go!  Steve!” Was the last thing Steve listened to before slamming the door closed, leaving Bucky to wonder, and Steve to brood, while you prayed you could get out of this.  Maybe.  At least this time you had a reason to fight, and a bigger reason to leave.  He could never break you.

Next

Masterlist

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[bakuhatsufallinlove]

I love your translation posts, they give great context to some moments! I’ve seen chapter 348 translated with Toga’s confession as almost being narrated by Bakugou but I’ve also seen it translated as a more generic voice. Is there a correct version?

This is a complicated question, so let me put it this way: while there is less uncertainty in Japanese about who is narrating 348, that doesn't mean there is no uncertainty. In general, I think English audiences are responding with much more scrutiny to something that is not particularly notable in Japanese manga.

We don't have a lot of information about the narrator that refers to Izuku in the third-person. "Midoriya Izuku" is not how Izuku narrated the story when his internal voice was dominant, he always used first-person pronouns to tell "the story of how I became the greatest hero."

In the series, there are inner monologues that convey what the characters are thinking in the moment, and then there is "framing narration." Framing narration positions the story in the past tense, implying a future person is relaying this event with more knowledge about its conclusion than the audience has.

Inner monologues have distinct clarity both in visual cues (who is on-screen) and how they speak.

Ochako's inner monologue during 321 is indisputably Ochako; the opening words are placed over her image, and the Japanese audience is already familiar with the fact that Ochako calls Izuku "Deku-kun" and uses the personal pronoun watashi (私), so when she says "we," it's watashitachi (私たち), pluralizing her own pronoun. If this were Shouto's monologue, we would have had Midoriya and orera (俺ら) or oretachi (俺たち) instead. The audience would have understood the distinction, although the visual cue centering Ochako would feel a little odd, like Shouto is looking to her while thinking this.

Framing narration, of course, has little-to-no visual cuing, so we have to rely on speech patterns, and thus end up with subjective interpretation and predictions.

348's framing narrator uses kare (彼) to refer to Izuku as he. This is not a pronoun we have ever seen Katsuki use for him. Katsuki exclusively refers to Izuku in the third-person with aitsu or soitsu (あいつ or そいつ), both of which mean "that guy" in a rude way consistent with his typical speech pattern.

There is the possibility that the audience is supposed to be surprised by the use of "shitty nerd" following the pronoun kare, because the two contradict each other, and "shitty nerd" is put at the end of the sentence like a zinger. This might imply that, sometime in the future, Katsuki starts using kare for Izuku, and that really would be a shocking change, because it is extremely polite and non-confrontational compared to how he normally talks. I don't think that is what is going on, though, for the following reasons:

In manga, framing devices are not always explained or particularly thought of as noteworthy. Some series use a framing device at the beginning, and then completely abandon it by the end. Some series have very inconsistent framing devices, sometimes due to the intense workload of weekly chapter output and sometimes because the author just wants it that way, and they use the inconsistency as a way to be poetic, develop story themes, or conveniently convey information.

English language media, especially in recent years, has much more strict rules and expectations about framing devices. I don't think Japanese audiences are as concerned about who this narrator is because the expectations are different.

That said, from both a writing standpoint and the experience of the audience, Katsuki's words being brought up in the middle of a love confession is not meaningless. The literal identity of the narrator may not be that important in the end, but what the narrator conveys is absolutely still important.

There are a lot of ways you can interpret Katsuki's words being brought up here, but it is undeniably intentional. If he wanted the "nerd" meaning without connecting it to Katsuki, Horikoshi could have just called Izuku an otaku, since that term carries an implication of "indifferent or ignorant to human relationships" in Japan. If this were just about how oblivious Izuku is, he could have said that Izuku 空気を読めない (kuuki wo yomenai, can't read the room).

But he chose the words Katsuki alone uses for Izuku--words that were historically derogatory but, as their relationship has improved, could almost be read as friendly or affectionate.

I personally feel like it is foreshadowing, but we'll have to see how it shakes out!