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moonjxsung · 6 months

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Lost in Translation

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

#stray kids #skz smut #Lee Minho #Lee know #stray kids hard hours #Lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #request #requests open #Spotify

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kafeking157 · 2 years

Text

Road work ahead?

Uhhh yeah I sure hope it does.

#photo mode #video games #dear diary #the last of us part 2 #ellie tlou #tlou part ii #naughty dog #i’m sorry #but i had to #road work ahead #uhhhhh #yeah i sure hope it does #vine quotes

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sweetheartsaku · 28 days

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—HAIKYU!! various ; how deep is your love?

a/n ; [gn!reader] kinda fem implied in kawa's and kuroo's 😓 do yall like the new layout?? c: suggestive if you squint extremely hard in kuroo's .. i honestly dont know if im writing this timeskip or pre timeskip its 3am 😣

— characters : oikawa, osamu, tsukishima, hinata, sakusa, kuroo

part 2 ! ♡ akaashi, kenma, kita, semi, kageyama, suna

jade vine !

tooru oikawa ; SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE - tyler the creator, brent faiyaz, fana huez

has 'i love you' wars and he MUST win or he will tackle you (affectionate)

takes the BEST candid photos of you and puts so much love into the following insta post. has you as his wallpaper too (please match with him) (he'd also have a highlight just w pics of you😞)

please NEVER do that 'wipe their kiss off' trend because he will actually not talk to you for DAYS and gets all sulky until you apologize. (he will get all cocky all over again)

core memory from his teamates. bae was explaining to his teamates about new volley nerd talk blablabla and they notice his nails painted in a faint pink (for a fun date night, thinking no one will notice)

issei BURSTS out laughing and instantly points it out. now seijoh4 NEVER lets him live it down

always the first person to notice when you use a new shampoo or perfume.

cuddling, (you being the little spoon╰(*´︶`*)╯♡) you can feel his breath hitch when his lips reach your neck

before you could ask why he's stopped inching closer he's already manages to whisper out, "did you start using a new shampoo?" yes. yes you have

do his skincare with him please ! he loves it. he loves when he places you on the bathroom counter and you wrap your legs around his waist, he loves when you're so gentle with the toner, he loves when you graze your delicate fingers over his beautiful long lashes, he loves when you make sure you don't cut him when snipping the face mask so it fits a little more snug, EVERYTHING. (he is sunoo coded)

osamu miya ; good looking - suki waterhouse

loves your tummy SO much. doesn't care about shape or form, he just likes the feeling that you're being fed. squish. or pat. he loves it. have i mentioned he loves your tummy?

when his dad leave the twins at home its always osamu at the stove, please keep atsumu in a 5 mile radius AWAY from the kitchen

SPOON FEEDS YOU. please i need him. on days you're too tired to move a muscle, days where you're too sick to open your eyes, be prepared to feel his hand on the back of your head and one below your chin ready to feed you!! once you've sat yourself up he feeds you so gently... osamu miya i need you

when you're really tired from work, he will send meals to your workplace. if you work at home and sees you barely able to keep an eye open, you will see his hand under a spoon of your favourite meal. he's not the best with it, but he's trying 🥹 he means it with all his heart and hearing you say the food is really warm in your stomach, his heart feels warm too (о´∀`о)

my mans is SNATCHED. slide your hands around his waist, poke it a little do WHATEVER. your hands have probably been on his waist more than his hands on yours.

i think his core is pretty well built. have we seen it in the anime or manga? maybe. but from what i've seen, his physique is very 😳 (a tad bit better than his brother's i fear)

cooking together!!! different recipes each date, basking in each other's presence. its always so fun and the results are always almost flawless!

at one-point y'all were making cupcakes, it was literally osamu baking them and you decorated it.

AND OBVIOUSLY the basic, he would routinely give you handmade onigiri, in different shapes, flavours and whatever you like ✨

kei tsukishima ; the only exception - paramore

kinda scowls at you when you put your hands under his shirt but secretly really loves it so when you slither your hands away he instantly places your hands back and make sure your hands STAY there. bonus points if you have warm body temperature. he likes the feeling of your warm hands on his slightly colder body.

his wardrobe has drastically evolved from muted tones to slightly lighter and vibrant clothing ever since you insisted on getting matching stuff!!

WILL say he is not a jewellery person but collects, keeps and takes care of all the little trinkets you give him DAILY. he has a little sticker on the edge of one of his books and a little moon sticker on the end piece of his sports glasses

he also defineitely has really thick curly blond lashes. you say they are one of his charming points but he gets all flustered. when you insist to put clear mascara on them, he doesn't really look like he has a problem with it 🥹

what could his ahh possibly be listening to with those headphones on so often (real)

sends you playlists at an insane hour that go for insane amounts of time. but i KNOW his taste is immaculate. every song always gives you goosebumps or makes your heart tighten

please do a spotify blend with him (he was gonna ask you, but you beat him to it)(he was shy)

oh AND the shared playlists actually are insane!! so much good music all at once?? crazy yall 😭😭 (wave to earth, cody fry, the smiths, daniel caesar, rex orange county)

shoyo hinata ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

honestly, out of all these men HINATA SHOYO is the BEST candidate for taking care of a person except himself. has no limits in his stamina, and will only listen to you when you ask him maybe its time for a break. does he overwork? not necessarily. does he work too hard? yes, in a positive way. please remind him to eat because he will forget sometimes

he will NEVER admit he likes being the little spoon LMAO he finds being vunerable in your arms a tad bit silly, and it bugs him. after a long week of practice games and insisting kageyama and yachi to practice with him the instant he falls on the bed, he finds himself melting into your touch. your voice gets a little more buttery and he loves it, falling asleep instantly

hes probably a hard sleeper too 😭 he wont wake up till he feels your cold hands on his face or the sunbeams from the curtain literally bleed into the sheets and steal its colour

PLEASE STROKE HIS HAIR. he loves it. he absolutely loves it. again, melts into your touch like ice-cream. his heart will feel tight and he has a lil' blush 🥹 whats even more priceless is his lips slightly agape after hes fallen asleep... how can you NOT love this man

one of the only boys on this list who will LET you put little pink bows or style his hair in braids and clips. (if you're imagining timeskip hinata, you have attempted to put a little bow around his bicep but you underestimated its size and it BROKE. gosh what an experience)

DANCES WITH YOU EVERYWHERE!!! omg i love him so much. doesn't care if you have two left feet, he just loves the feeling in his heart when he sees your smile as he spins you around. in the rain, in big empty rooms, in the kitchen, anywhere.

loves the idea of promise rings or little trinkets that ensure he gets to have you forever!!

kiyoomi sakusa ; washing machine - VANISHING GIRL, rosemary fairweather

PLEASE braid this man's hair. 😞 he pretends to despise it and thinks you don't notice when he literally melts under your touch. he feels safe 'nd comfy and hopes it lasts forever, when your hand retracts he has a lil' pout

notices when you've been wearing your favourite hood for a couple days straight, has a little scowl under his mask and throws one of his jackets at you. he only gives you the wind-breakers that are 100% cotton or the ones he just knows you like.

he uses this as an excuse to share his clothes with you. its safe to assume its his love language under-cover!

HE IS SO ASS WITH PDA all you get is him giving you hand sanitizer before eating meals or snacks. its only you though, don't tell him that.

BUT sometimes when he feels like it, he will take your hand and put it HIS pocket so "your hands are always sheltered from germs" now what type of bs is THAT. (you love this bs)

can be snarky. sometimes he gets the slightest eenie meenie miniest bit cocky, and its very noticable. has the ability to be a little bit of a tease but not in a pestering way more like a little smartass way LMAO.

tetsuro kuroo ; never lose me - flo milli

always has his hand in the back pocket of your pants. that was it. thank you for coming to my ted talk. (to feel your butt? no idea.)

tutor sessions always unbearable. either you're too busy staring at his biceps, or you're sighing that he's made a little pop quiz for you!! tell him it sucks please

if he notices it gets a bit too much or overwhelming for you over the week or before study dates, insists to take you out instead (what a gentleman!! kuroo tetsuro come into my life)

extremely consistent with routine. good morning and good night text DAILY no matter how busy he is, he WILL find a way (i like to think its his way or the high way #kingofprovocation /hj). very good at getting the things he wants in a non-manipulative way but with simply logic and brains

yeah as captain hes no. #1 but he is also no. #1 waist CLUTCHER. his hands are always on you somehow even in the slightest way, but never pervy. he just likes having his hands on you! bonus points if you have hip dips, he loves it so much. he finds it as a perfect spot to place his hands on (btw ppl w hipdips yall are BEAUTIFUL!! 🥹)

i feel as he has a possessive side as well. small, but more noticable compared to someone else. will not hesitate to stare someone (or recite chemistry nerd stuff 🙁) down for looking at you a little too long :3

when he sees you post or sees himself in your instagram or tiktok dumps, his heart tightens a bit in the best way possible. when you mention him in the post he only reacts with a heart but he's actually going insane

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #oikawa x reader #osamu x reader #tsukishima x reader #hinata x reader #sakusa x reader #kuroo x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

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blue-blvd1949 · 10 months

Text

Lollipops On Cherry Lipgloss

Spencer Reid

a/n: part 2 out now here!!!

Summary: your desk is right across from Spencer’s time to time he catches himself starting at you. Today in particular you had a new cherry lipgloss that paired perfectly with a red lollipop against your lips and a low cut shirt, he couldn’t believe his luck <3

Word count: 2314

———

You didn’t know Spencer liked to look at you from across his desk and be completely mesmerized and enamored by you.

He likes, no loves the days you decide to try out new lip products from new lipsticks to lip stains and lipglosses. He always imagined you under him with your lips destroyed because of his and it being spread out and messy.

You were known in the office for always carrying candy of some sort with you and always eating candy. You were always chewing on fruity gum and sometimes eating small red vines. Yet nothing would prepare him for the view of you sucking on a lollipop with your new cherry lipgloss.

You were in deep thought working on your reports mindlessly. So was Reid or at least he was trying to, he was in deep thought about you and your lips it was definitely his favorite part about you.

In the middle of the report you instantly got out of deep thought and opened your desk drawer filled with candy and pulled out a red lollipop.

He was shocked and surprised as you rarely eat them. You took the wrapper off and placed it in your mouth tasting it instantly and a look of relief was on your face.

He got hard and it was hard to conceal it with his team surrounding him. He got his jacket and placed it on his crotch as discreetly as he can. He sunk into his seat watching you mindlessly lick and suck on the lollipop imagining it was his cock instead of the candy.

“Hey Spence” you said waving your hand on his face trying to get his attention.

“Y-Yeah sorry, what do you need” he said off guard hoping you didn’t realize how he was looking at you with pure lust.

“I have a question for cases like these when filling out the reports” you asked looking at him innocently with the candy in your mouth to the side making a bulge on your cheek.

“Yeah what’s the question?” He asked not realizing your shirt was showing the most cleavage he has ever seen on you. It was a pretty shirt, it was a white tank top with a cute bow on top sitting nicely.

“Well you see here it’s asking for… But for cases like these it’s a different situation and…” you went on asking at him leaning closer to his desk and propping your elbows on your desk showing his report to you.

Your tits were in full display for him practically begging for him. He could see your cute bra underneath the tank top as it was slightly sheer, it was light pink with white lace.

You got closer to look at the paper you were showing him pointing with your finger the section you were confused on. He took the paper off your hands as he was sinking even more into his seat if that was even possible.

“You don’t know what to write here since you… you need to move that information down here and…” as he was explaining it to you, you were listening carefully swirling the lollipop against your lips making your new lipgloss stand out. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realize Spencer was actually very attractive when he was explaining something. His hair was slightly messy with his veiny hands pointing at your report.

You knew boy wonder was kinda cute but you paid no though to it as you always thought guys who were older than you were at least slightly cute but Spencer was different.

He was considerate and super smart, he was always aware of other peoples feelings. As you were thinking about all his good qualities and how much he would make a perfect boyfriend to him you just looked lost in thought with your mouth fixating on a candy looking extremely hot and cute at the same time.

As he was done explaining it and you thanked him a hundred times telling him to ask you for any favors he needed. He couldn’t even stand up to make himself another coffee as he was extremely hard and his pants weren’t doing much to conceal it. So he asked you for his favor.

“Hey yn can I have my favor now?” his voice was lowly that sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah for sure, what do you need?” You said looking at him, he realized your lips were more red than he last remembered which was only 5 minutes ago.

“Could you possibly make me a coffee? I just don’t want to ruin my work flow you know” he said saving himself, he doesn’t even know what would happen if someone saw him the condition he is in now.

“Yeah totally, one coffee coming right up!” You said heading to the coffee machine on the back. He saw as your hips swayed side to side on the screen of his computer. You wore perfect jeans that were tight around your ass and thighs but loose at the bottom.

He knew it was wrong looking at you in such a way considering you were much younger than him and just finished your internship and started working 3 months ago. You were as fresh meat could possibly get at the BAU. You were a doe eyed deer on the forest surrounded by wolves ready to pounce on you any moment they could. That’s why Spencer felt some responsibly towards you, he knew how it felt but what he didn’t exactly experience was much much older colleagues with children and wives at home asking you out and flirting with you.

He felt like he wasn’t any different from them but you felt otherwise. He was your first friend at the BAU and soon will become more than that.

“Here ya go!” You said placing his hot coffee on his desk making sure to not spill any.

“Thanks yn” he said taking a sip and surprised you made it exactly how he likes it.

“Hey Spence I have another question” you said shying away but still pushing through.

“Hmmm” he said making the noise against his coffee mug.

“I was wondering if you could help me some more with my reports after work and I could pay you back with favors just like now” you asked fully expecting him to say no or that he was too busy.

“Yeah I could totally help you, I have to stay either way I need to finish my reports too!” Both of you were excited for the late night and what it could possibly bring.

The clock hit 8pm and everybody started packing up their stuff and heading home even Hotch decided to go home on time leaving you and Spencer by yourselves.

You and Spencer got your files and started heading towards the meeting room suggested by Spencer as there is more space other than your small desks.

“Ok well the first case… and I just don’t understand this part…” you said asking away your questions.

He was in the same position as before leaning down on his chair blankly staring at you, you had the same light cherry color on your lips where you reapplied the new lipgloss, and you also had another lollipop on your cheek creating yet again another bulge against it.

The room was filled with tension that you were sure was just felt by you. It was a heavy thick layer of tension but not just any tension, sexual tension like if there were some hidden feelings between both of you that neither wanted to confess which was slightly the case.

He started to realize you had some sort of feelings for him especially some sexual ones. It wasn’t that difficult to deduct, you were staring at his hands and lap that was covered by his jacket yet again. He started to feel conflicted questioning wether he should even make a move on you.

When you would finish your questions he would immediately look down pretending to look at the report and answering your question swiftly.

The process repeated 3 more times, him looking at you and answering each and every question like if his thoughts weren’t comepletely sinful.

“Well that’s all my questions! Thank you so much Spence I really do appreciate it” you said looking at him with the doe eyes that remind him of the deer.

“It’s really nothing just helping out a pretty girl like you” he didn’t even realize what he said after seeing your reaction. Those doe eyes were wide with a shocked expression. That’s when you realized the tension wasn’t all in your head.

“So have you decided on what you want me to do for you?” You asked feeling shy not knowing what he would ask for.

Spencer decided to take initiative and make a move you’ve been waiting for.

“Yeah I know what I want you to do” he said patting his lap, telling you without words to come closer.

“Oh cmon don’t be shy sit down” he said with his rock hard cock in his pants on display for you.

“I-I didn’t know you were, you were having a problem down there” you said meekly pointing at it as you were sitting horizontally on his lap.

“I’ve been like this the whole day, you just know how to get me going pretty girl” he said whispering into your ear which sent shivers. Slowly he started rubbing your thighs that were closed to easing you. His hand inching slowly to your cunt that’s all wet and puffy just for him.

You got bold and got off his lap to take off your jeans leaving yourself with just your bra, tank top, and panties. You sat back on his lap this time facing him.

“Do you want to continue?” He asked into your ear. You nodded against his neck and he knew he could continue.

He pulled back slightly to see your face and it looked better than any perverse fantasy he’s had about you. Rosy cheeks with rosy lips, his hand on your face now slowly rubbing it his thumb playing with your lips spreading your lipgloss all over your mouth and lips feeling on fire all over your body.

As his hand slowly moved from your face to your neck just sitting there resting against your heart necklace you started grinding slowly trying to create any friction for your weeping puffy cunt. It didn’t take long for him to start kissing your neck and leave big dark hickeys.

You started moaning softly and he knew he had to have you right then and there.

“S-Spence please fuck me!” you said practically begging for him.

“Don’t worry I’m getting there pretty girl” he stated right before he picked you up and laid you on the big round table.

You looked like heaven to him, he was just standing in between your legs looking down on you and couldn’t believe his eyes.

Hair all sprawled out the table looking messy, arms on your side not knowing where to put them, panties obviously drenched with your hips trying to find some sort of touch, and obviously your pretty lips begging to be kissed again.

He got to work and started kissing you again more passionately not wanting to ever let you go.

He reached a hand down and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants the sound making your head fuzzy. As he took his cock out he put it on top of your stomach showing you how deep he’ll be.

“Look baby… That’s where I’ll be” he said rubbing the spot on you which is right below your belly button with his hand making you feel euphoric even though he hasn’t even been in you yet.

“Inside Spence” you cried out to him lowly going he heard you.

“I know just need to get rid of these cute panties you have” he said slowly sliding them off completely enamored with your cunt.

“God it’s so pretty baby, all wet just for me ” he said kissing your cheek almost as if congratulating you for it. He slowly rubbed your clit before entering his middle finger.

“So tight and puffy too” he said pumping it slowly.

Before you could complain again he grabbed his cock and aligned himself against you, feeling your drenched cunt ready to take him in. He started entering just the tip and it felt relieving to finally have him.

“More” you said meekly and crying into him but Spencer followed through your request and gave you more. He stood still not wanting to hurt you and for you to work at your own pace.

“All of it… please Spence all of it” you begged him, as he bottomed out you let out a yelp full of pleasure.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah I just want you to move” slowly rocking his hips they picked up their pace fucking you senseless on the BAU meeting table that might or might not have cum stains after using it. He grabbed your tank top and bra and pushed them up letting your tits free so he could play with them.

Moaning senseless as he sent you over the edge as your nipples were extremely sensitive, his hands were huge against you the size of him in every aspect made you go into a frenzy.

“Fuck I’m almost cumming” he said pushing his hips against yours looking like he doesn’t want to stop anytime soon.

“Inside… Cum inside please!” You said reaching your high, he let his load inside of you and watched it slowly deep out when he was still inside you.

Both of you panting against each other neither of you noticed it fall onto the carpet until the next day.

“I wanna stay like this forever with you Spence” <3

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huramuna · 4 months

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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fanaticsnail · 5 months

Note

I always am in awe and in love with your writing and wanted your thoughts on this. What do you think of the aloof Mihawk with an apprentice that he isn’t that close too. He still is protective, but doesn’t think much until he notices that the apprentice is getting weaker and assumes they are slacking. He tears into them about being lazy and goes to leave only to hear them collapse with the Hanahaki disease. 🫣

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling

Hanahaki: a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

Masterlist here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 1,466

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, Anon. I hope I fulfilled your request well. I am very new to the concept, so I have drawn this up as a drabble rather than a fully-fledged fic.

Song Accompaniment: Luminary

“Pick up the pace, Fledgling,” Mihawk directed you, his drawl laced in boredom and indifference, “try to at least be better than you were yesterday. You’re growing slack or, dare I say, lazy.”

It had been this way for the past three years. You had initially sought out the mighty Dracule Mihawk, warlord and world’s greatest swordsman, to train you to become an expert in skilled swordcraft. Initially, he refused your request; shutting the door in your face as soon as you uttered a simple: “Lord Mihawk, I have come to humbly request-.”

His eyes bore an intensity, an aloofness and disinterest about them. The honey-colour irises within the darker rings indicated he was exactly the strength you needed to train under to become an expert in your field. As soon as your gaze was halted by the large wooden door, the large brass handle swinging to nearly hit you; you became resolved in not moving from your place atop his staircase until he was willing to take you in.

He made you wait seven days. Your body was overcome with exhaustion, dehydration and malnourishment when he finally stepped aside to welcome you within his darkened and gloomy halls to await further instruction.

Your training began by vigorous routine: waking, eating, training, sleeping – all with the broody swordsman lording over you; criticising every aspect of your routine. Your apprenticeship was joined alongside the demon and bounty hunter: Roronoa Zoro. He was an amazing peer; his strength and agility was akin to your own, alongside his mantra to become stronger than the person he was yesterday. Mihawk paid you and Zoro the same amount of attention, his ward: Perona, also offering you guidance and comradery with her unwavering support.

“You slept in, Fledgling,” the warlord would utter, flicking the back of his newspaper to straighten the pages. He did not look up to acknowledge your presence in the slightest, opting to raise a glass of red wine to his lips instead.

“No protein with your breakfast? You’ll never achieve your goals by living on simply bread – I don’t care if Perona informs you otherwise,” he would utter, brushing past you to reach high up on the kitchen shelf and thrusting the jar into your hands, “at least balance it out with almonds or pumpkin seeds, Fledgling.”

“Sloppy,” he would comment, gesturing to a particular maneuver you were working with against your peer, Roronoa Zoro, “pick your feet up, Fledgling. Rabbit, aim for their calves to make them move.”

Each jab, taunt and criticism had your resolve to train harder and stronger more cemented within your chest: a chest that became weighed down with a feeling of suffocating tightness. The brush of a correcting hand, the whisper of his shoulder on his way past you, the feeling of his guidance on your lower back throughout the halls had your heart bound within vines.

Fighting the feeling with furrowed brows and clenched jaws, you pinned it as anxiety under the hard traineeship you sought with this undertaking with the swordsman. You thought you had trained yourself too hard: coughing uncontrollably, clutching your chest to relieve you of the tight feeling that followed with a spatter of blood falling from your parted lips into your palm. A trickle of saliva connected your lips to the pool within the creases of your hand: a small petal white and pure going unnoticed within your outstretched palm.

You strengthened your resolve, opting to train harder to break yourself from the weakness you were experiencing. You chose not to inform neither Perona, Zoro nor your boss Dracule Mihawk of the overexertion you were sure you were suffering.

Battling with Zoro became harder and more difficult with the amount of exhaustion you found yourself overcome with. The feeling never ceased, and appeared to be becoming worse the more your eyes met with the disapproving gaze of your mentor. Mihawk would shake his head and look away from your stance in disappointment, opting to praise Zoro for his ability to take down someone akin to you.

It was not until you felt the feeling overcome your chest completely that you collapsed under the pressure of your heart. The feeling of overexertion was too much. The passion was too much. The love?

Love.

You were in love.

You were in love with Dracule Mihawk.

A man you knew you could never have.

His gentle touches: firm enough to guide you, soft enough for it to be a suggestion rather than an order. The way his eyes would linger, unblinking and harsh. There was no softness, only correction and disinterest. He was not interested in you, not in the slightest - that was a fact you were certain of. A man of his stature had no awareness, desire, or need for something as simple as romance or love.

Collapsing within the vineyard, drawing your hand up to your mouth and coughing under the uncomfortable weight within your heart; your eyes rose to the feathered hat atop the warlord in front of you, wide and frantic.

“Lazy again, Fledgling?” he uttered, turning to face you along the clay row of the cascading vines, “and here I thought-.”

His words were cut short, his eyes widening at your form and brows immediately rising. Hunching your back over, you hung your head as a fit of uncontrollable coughs overcame your body in a fit of wheezed breaths. The vocal chords within your throat stung within the chasms of your oesophagus, a trail of white petals once again falling to your palm under your coughs. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the pain you were experiencing, looking in horror towards your mentor.

“What is-,” he began, turning in his sprint to join you at your side, “-what is wrong with you?”

Drawing his right arm to collect your shoulders, he embraced you against his chest as you continued to struggle to gulp down breaths of air to fill your lungs. Utilizing his left hand, he withdrew your hand from your lips and stared his amber eyes down to your palm.

“Hanahaki,” he whispered in a low growl. His teeth clenched tight against each other at the thought of the disease overtaking your form. His honey-coloured gaze scanned over your body, staring at the risen veins like vines rising in a trail from your heart to your clavicle as his breath hitched in a light hiss.

Releasing your hand from his left, he laced his left arm beneath your body and thrust himself upwards to cradle you against himself. His embrace was strong, his support of your respiratory system within his arms relieved some of the tension falling from your heart in waves of caged interwoven vines.

Blurred sentences falling from his lips, your ears nor eyes are able to focus on a single word uttered.

“-How long-.”

“-When did-.”

"-Fledgling-."

“-You didn’t say-.”

“Let’s-... -a doctor.”

You felt your body be placed onto a firm, wooden surface. Your chest felt weighed down by the amount of earthy and binding roots you felt entrapped by. Your jaw ached with how hard you had clasped your teeth shut to halt the release of more petals. Pure, white and teasing was the nature of the flowers falling from between your parted mouth. The ache never ceased within your chest the longer your mentor remained with you.

Your dizzying mind only regained focus at the next utterances falling from the lips of your mentor.

“I will send for the green-haired rabbit. Perhaps I can persuade him of the charm you hold and convince him to fall for you,” he took a long breath inwards and uttered in a tone just above a whisper, “if you can convince someone as hardened as I am wordlessly to harbor affection for you, the brat should have no such trouble.”

He exited the room, the wooden door to the kitchen swinging behind him in a slow, creaked ‘click’ as it met its handle against the brass latch. Immediately, you felt your heart began to release the tension folded around the organ. Although your mouth was dry, the flavour of metallic blood lingering in a cocktail against the floral texture of something akin to jasmine flowers, your body was relieved of the tension for the first time in three years.

No longer hardened by what you assumed to be mild anxiety, you knew you would be able to train harder still to achieve both yours and Dracule Mihawk’s impossibly high standards of yourself. Discovering what harbouring the affections of a warlord of the seas truly meant while training was something that filled your once constricted heart with a soaring freedom you yearned for.

You would have much to discuss upon his return, especially with a green-haired apprentice in tow.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 6 months

Text

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner.

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly.

What are the chances…

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either.

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone.

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #yup! we're moving away from the labyrinth but fret not! the shenanigans shall continue and relationships will be built!#i forgot how fucking terrifying the fireys are and i now remember way labyrinth gave me nightmares as a kid #twst labyrinth au #also i shit you not i went to go eat at a burger joint last week and 'magic dance' was playing and i lost my fricking mind #like HELLO?! WHAT THE HELL?!#apparently the radio was telling me to fricking work on this fic...#i should really start posting this on ao3 as well... but idk where this is going to go #also posting a standalone fic (oneshot?) tomorrow; you guys will be eating good for a bit. here some crumbs for you and for you and for you

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Being the youngest member of 141 (platonic)

Codename: Shark/Sharky

Age: 20

Part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Inspired by the many works of this concept! But most specifically @meatonfork and their grim stories!

Being the youngest member of a task force of grown men who’ve stared death in the face around every day of their lives is an accomplishment in itself

Getting close with them though is an entirely different goal that you’ve somehow accomplished in your time at 141

Your kinda not sure how it happened

Like you were brought on as additional support on a mission of theirs. Unlike the others though you’d stood out

Partially due to your smaller stature cause of your young age compared to literally everyone else (even Gaz)

He’s the most hesitant of the bunch to get closer to you. Afraid that his presence will be like a curse that leads to your life being cut short.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

It starts with small improvements you could make in simple stuff like your stances. He sees it during some training and he takes the time to show you what to do.

He tries to leave it at that but you come to him asking for more help in other areas you thought you could do better in. A small smirk on your face as he agrees with a bit of a sigh.

You talk to him during these times. Never shutting up about something funny you saw on tiktok or some weird story.

He appreciates how you don’t ever really expect him to respond, just to silently listen to your ramblings. Knowing he preferred to listen rather than talk.

It’s nice. He begins to look forwards to your training sessions and also starts indulging in joking with you.

His sense of humour doesn’t scare you off, in fact you seem to make more fucked up jokes than he does.

“Damn that hits harder than my parents expectations” the moment after you say this an awkward silence fills the training room. Ghost staring down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, dark eyes peering down from behind his edgy mask. “Kid are you ok?” The moment he asks this your instant response is “no”

Is reallly fucking worried for your mental health. Like he’s constantly checking on you after missions and is the first to volunteer to be at your side if your experiencing something wrong

He’s seen allot of people older than you be permanently scarred by what they’ve seen and end up on dark paths. He’s attached now and refuses to let that happen to you

He hasn’t been on the internet in years so he has no fucking clue what a “vine” is or whatever the fuck is going on your “tick-tack” or whatever the hell that app was named.

But he bears it for your smile and giggles as you show him a video of a puppy

He won’t mention it but at some point he gets a tattoo of a small nurse shark circling his forearm.

A symbol of your impact on his life

If you steal a mask of his you’ll find one tailored to properly fit you a few days later slipped under your door with a small note

Calls you “kid, brat, and (when he’s feeling soft) Sharky or ankle biter”

On missions with you he tends to try and have you in eyesight unless it’s completely necessary not to

A subtle way of keeping his protective side in reign but also let you do what you do best

Be prepared if you get injured though cause he’s ripping and tearing whoever’s in his path to get to you.

Price on the other hand is also worried but isn’t afraid to get close. In fact, he goes out of his way to welcome you as best he can.

Every morning he greets you with a polite “hello” and “how’s your morning” before offering a cup of tea

Not coffee though. He says it’s bad for your health and your too young to start drinking that shit

You can’t fight him on this either, he goes full dad mode on your ass and places the coffee container somewhere you can’t reach

He often stays up late doing paperwork so if your restless you end up curled up in his office on one of the couches.

He talks about some old stories, snuffing out his cigar so you don’t breath in the smoke.

His voice is perfect to listen too and has an almost instant knock out affect on your sleepy mind

You’ll wake up in your room the next morning, one of his hats snug on your head.

He’s the only one who knows any background information of your upbringing and guards that unless you don’t really care. Even then he’s still very hush hush about your past.

He likes to give a lot of verbal affection.

Just telling you that “you did a good job!” or a “great work out there kiddo”.

Plus a pat on the back and ruffling of your hair to add onto the affection. Will also give hugs if your comfortable with them

Buy him a hat or mug with “ 1# dad/captain” and you’ll see him tear up slightly

“Surprise!!” You place down the small mug that had “worlds best dad captain” written on it, onto his desk. He goes silent, carefully taking it into his hands with a certain gentleness only reserved for moments such as this. “Thought you needed a new one” he still remains silent, staring down in Aw at the mug “thought it would also go good with the “women fear me, fish fear me, men turn their eyes away from me-“. You stop seeing as his eyes begin to gloss over slightly.

“Thanks kid” “no problem old man”

He’s always wanted kids but due to the profession he’s never had the chance to settle down. So getting something like that helps with his lingering feeling of longing and bitterness of knowing he’ll likely never fulfil that dream

But he’s has you now, along with the family he built with the others and that’s good enough for him.

As the youngest you abuse your youngest child privileges on him a shit ton with Gaz.

He just can’t stay mad lol

Unlike Ghost he’s a bit more adept to modern tech though social media has him a bit lost.

Show him all you want but he still won’t be able to comprehend why a dude screaming about something is funny

On missions he already knows Ghost is watching over you so he kinda lets him take the lead in being protective. Though if ghost isn’t there he definitely has either himself or whoever else is on the mission nearby

He also almost always makes sure for missions your paired up with at least one other person.

Soap is immediately becoming your buddy whether you like it or not

After that first interaction he kinda just mentally said to himself “aight this lil shit is sticking with me now” and went from there

Jokes. Holy shit does he have an arsenal of jokes that he tries out with you.

Once he finds your somewhat dark and weird sense of humour he sticks to it, learning what would make you laugh the hardest and feeling super accomplished in succeeding his task

Definitely makes aquatic jokes and tries to buy you sea themed souvenirs

Eventually you gift him a seahorse keychain and it now hangs from his belt. He buys you a shark one in return that you hang from your com.

He has some social media accounts but their relatively bare. He just doesn’t have the time to update them or when he’s not busy he forgets to post anything

You quickly change that and he ends up basically becoming a meme account to piss off ghost as you, him and Gaz team up in talking in slang that makes Ghost and Price so fucking confused.

You and Soap sit side by side with shit grinning faces as Ghost sits as still as a statue with the aura of annoyance. You whisper to Soap something which makes the Scottish man giggle and glance back at ghost. Personally it’s getting on ghost’s nerves but he knows if he asks his ears are gonna be assaulted by some ungodly array of words he was 100% sure wasn’t in the dictionary.

During leave he’s definitely inviting you over to stay with him back in his flat. It’s somewhat small but it’s cozy, definitely a nice stay as he takes you to a football game and gets somewhat rowdy while watching it.

He kinda has the suspicion that you might’ve not had the best home life considering your age in which you voluntarily enlisted. But he doesn’t ask incase of it being a sensitive topic.

Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong but it’s an offer you occasionally take since it makes him more happy than you know

100% teaches you Scottish slang for fun

Is probably the one who calls you “Sharky” the most out of the group and is the one who insists that everyone calls you that

Price has banned him from teaching you on how to make bombs no matter how much either of you plead

That doesn’t stop him from showing you how to set them up though

And that unfortunately (for him and everyone else) also leads you to setting up better pranks due to the knowledge he taught you.

He gets the side eye from ghost every time he wakes up to find a new elaborate glitter tripwire you set up

Gaz needs a moment to warm up to you but once he does he’s joining in on the shenanigans

For the longest time he was the youngest so now he has a chance to be a role model/mentor to someone!

Gaz knows what it’s like to be the metaphorical baby of the team (he still kinda is) so he understands if your feeling overwhelmed by the other’s protective streaks

Will 100% be the only one to understand half the shit you say and be given the title of “shark translator”

“Gaz for the love of Christ please translate that”

“It basically means “I’d rather gouge my eye out with a rusty shit covered spoon than eat any more of the broccoli” honestly same”

“What the fuck”

That just gives him the excuse to make them think that what you said is a whole lot worse tho

He occasionally takes his hat and places it on your head to see it be way to big and obscure your eyesight

Don’t offer instant ramen to him cause he has ptsd from eating a shit ton of it when he was in high school

He has an Xbox 360 and a sega Saturn locked away in his room. He only lets people he trusts know of it’s existence let alone be able to play on it

Your one of the few

He does not judge if you talk to him for an hour about the most obscure piece of media, he’ll probably find it really interesting and end up down the rabbit hole of watching it.

Both of you send the creepy stories chain email to random people on base just to see what’ll happen

Like everyone he kinda assumes you probably came from a shit background. He doesn’t ask about it unless you bring it up, but he always reminds you that him and the team are there for you if you need a place to crash at or talk to

Gets pretty nervous about you on the battlefield cause of the fact your going up against men that are usually 2 times your size. But he doesn’t try to admit it since he remembers when the others felt the same about him.

Is probably the only one who doesn’t get worried about any self-deprivations humour but does kinda get worried about suicide jokes

As a joke y’all call everyone old and make jokes about getting Price a cane next Christmas (which results in about 20 sets if push ups)

He sends random low quality memes you sent to him at 3 am to Price to see if he’ll ask the next morning what “me and the boys at 3 am looking for beans” fucking means.

Like soap he encourages your shenanigans but if he thinks you might get hurt he’s stopping that shit

He carry’s around kids bandaids with characters on them for you as an inside joke

Overall their protective but they don’t overstep the comfort line.

You’ve grown on them like a parasite and now they refuse to cut you off, luckily for them you just seem to latch on even harder.

#platonic #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain price x reader #modern warfare x reader #call of duty x reader #Sharky y/n

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farwayloner · 2 months

Text

"Sweet Gardenia": The Bloom 🌺❄

Bi-Han X Cold!Reader

WARNINGS:

F!Reader, Pre-MK1 Campaign, No use of Y/N, Kinda slowburn, Overworking, a lot of flower metaphors, Mention of Starvation Tomas slander :( , Reader being stubborn, Bi-Han being soft.

For a better experience, listen to this song while reading. :)

A/N Note: THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC. ANY FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED.

Seriously, this is the third time I've had to re-make this. I accidentally uploaded it first then I deleted it by accident.

This took forever to write! But thank you to my friend Gutsie for the feedback :)

I have had other projects that include writing so this not my first writing project.

A part 2 could come out if I have the motivation.

I might open a request page if not.

Expect many metaphors! I use a dictionary to enhance the words I occupy! Yeah i'm so good⁉️

My native language is not English, expect countless grammatical errors.

Enjoy!

-🌺

Gardenias, flowers that flourish and bloom with an inmense amount of rain, letting them bloom to fulfill their entire potential. Keeping their beauty far away from the sun, in solitude and coldness to fullfill the promise under the white shining moon. In a way to sink down back to the roots.

That is how you can describe yourself as, instead of broken piece of glass lying in a withered flower field that you truly knew you were.

A delicate flower, pushed to the edge by a will of steel. If not, a withered away chrysanrhemum.

You had endless ideas of what you could describe yourself. A total failure.

You saw in yourself a weed that needed to be pulled away by grief, to wither away. And stop existing.

That is what you only wanted. You had fulfilled your potential and that is what mattered the most. What more is there to this garden of existence? Your heart will still be locked away.. a cold persona taking it's place as a façade.. Hiding the true self you have inside. The frozen you, the one that needed to be thawed.

Yet here you were.. The grandmistress of a rising clan, built from the ground and already in the riches spectrum. It was nothing, but honest work.

A work fueled by your frustration of the past events, it already bloomed into success.

Under many stacks of paperwork, graced by the finest silks and materials.. You were yet unhappy. A productive life and success made your way, yet most would call you ungrateful, insecure..

Or ambitious.

You always kept up most nights if you didn't have the exhaustion to fall asleep instantly after a long day of working, to keep the utmost pace of your life. Yet you never slept. Never rested as if you were a.. stubborn camellia.

No one to walk beside you. This wealth made you more than unhappy. But no one was worthy of your affections. Other gardens tried to kindle with you and it caused you to push more away.

In younger years, you were a root that needed to grow, in a healthier way. Winding vines only made you slowly wither away, taking what you had at your sleeve.

Your heart. Locking it down tightly and never opening it again, for the sake of your happiness.

This pace would rather destroy what you have built rather than strengthen the bond.

You were going to last as long as a bee at this pace.

"It is not enough." You always thought to yourself.. keeping it deep inside the roots of your existence. It would forever be locked there until someone pulled the weeds.

A cold heart like yours isn't deserving of love.

That's what you always convinced yourself.

Undeserving.

Not enough.

Reassurance wasn't enough.

It never was.

-🌺

You stood beside your quarter's window, a view right to the beautiful-tended to garden and those foolish blood-colored gardenias outside your window.

They seemed to be communicating in a way to you, enjoying the calming sun as they bloomed and enjoyed the last clutches of autumn. As if their secret passion would let them survive the soon coming winter.

"Beautiful. Yet foolish." You muttered to yourself. Even after being alone, you kept to yourself.

Patience is key.

Flowers were always a fascination to you, you had decorated the gardens with many beautiful flowers that bloom around all year, but those gardenias.. they couldn't stay through the winter.

It only reminded you of yourself.

You knew that those flowers were beautiful, the red color was one of the most beautiful. Yet you felt jealousy at the bloody flowers. You wouldn't indulge in those.. passions that they are meaning to, love.. partnership. The thought made you scowl, your façade falling apart.

Your clan was utmost important. The only sense of independence you had at the moment after escaping your planter's clutches, it gave you the position you have now. And you couldn't afford to lose it.

Ever.

Yet those frivolous arranged marriage proposals arrived each day at her clan's gates. How foolish to think that she would accept them. They only want her power, and her wealth. It only makes your patience wither away.

With a sigh, you returned back to work. Yet your thoughts kept going back and then. Was love truly deserving of one like you? Or that façade would bring you nowhere near a friendship?

You wouldn't indulge in those senses.. yet. As none have ever captured your heart after it has been locked away. The way to thaw it is unsure to you as well.

This continuous delusional thoughts kept you away from your work. You wouldn't tie yourself until your demise over a man who does not appreciate you. It would be a quick demise.

Yet,

You are losing hope on expanding the power and control you have over the lands. Even as you keep overworking yourself. You will have no other choice to marry the leader of another influential clan. It would be the true bad end.

But it is not alright to give up, yet. As hope will start. Winter is starting to arrive and it always arises new opportunities.

And your thoughts will always keep you to the bloody-colored flowers that mean passion and secret love. A visible furrow of eyebrows and scowled appeared on your face. You could already hear your mother scolding you due to the

"Not lady-like mannerisms".....

You really started to hate red.

-❄

The Lin Kuei.

A formidable yet stealthy warrior ninja clan that specializes in defending Earthrealm.

It's former grandmaster, had been very influential on the up-rise of the Lin Kuei. And brought it to the highest-bloom point.

Even at a low-profile state, the clan bloomed into a successful amount of wealth and power.

But the grandmaster's first-born son: Bi-Han, a snowdrop in a human mantle that was trained his entire childhood to become the grandmaster.

He did not seem to have his father's ideals.

He matured earlier than expected in a will of steel. Cold, calculating and unforgiving. Commonly referenced to a demon in human skin. His childhood being something he is ashamed off.

Bi-Han resents his father for his harsh treatment during his roots: Being referenced that weaknesses are a horrible mistake, relationships and friendships will only be distractions and cause weaknesses.

"Weaknesses are failures. Failures are unacceptable and you know of it." The former grandmaster's words were imprinted in Bi-Han's head. A common echo of reminder in those roots of his. How he resented that.. doddering-old man.

Bi-Han's frustration often caused him to snap at his brothers, who didn't receive the harsh training their father gave to him. Yet he felt guilty at his usual hurting words, but his duties and stress would be constantly eating him inside.

After the former grandmaster withered away, Bi-Han had taken the mantle of his father, wanting to bloom the Lin Kuei into a better glory than to protect Earthrealm.

No time for friendships, relationships.

Or his brothers.

His duty was the most important aspect in his life, trained for it since his birth. Having to constantly work on financial situations, scold recruits and warriors for the unsatisfactory performances. It was a harsh job.

But these recruits needed a vine to pull them back together. To teach them a lesson,

That they wouldn't forget.

Yet here was Bi-Han, in the cold winter of Articka, sharing a meal under the shining moon with his brothers.

He barely made time to "discuss duties" with them. But due to the accomodate weather and temperature, he made an up-most exception. Not that he would admit.

Bi-Han was deep in his thoughts, while his brothers enjoyed the steaming buns right in-front of him placed on the dinner table.

Though he made an attempt to ignore the simple delicasies. Bi-Han's concentrated gaze was staring right into the soul of a newly-grown nearby tree,that increased snow started to fall from.

He had a work-loaded week, and now he could enjoy respite digesting steaming buns with his brothers. A quiet respite if he could just enjoy it.

"Winter is very close by and times will get harsher." Bi-Han though to himself. Even after mastering Cryomancy, he must prepare for the harsh climate.

Not only for himself, but for the rest of Lin Kuei warriors.

Bi-Han was brought out of his thoughts when his blood-brother, Kuai Liang, spoke to catch his attention.

"I was analizing the climate. I apologise for the distractions." Bi-Han tried to dismiss the subject with a wave of his hand.

He despised being seen as vulnerable. As if he was compared to a flower. Bi-Han scowled at the thought.

"Continue, Kuai Liang." Bi-Han said coldly, staring with thorns of long-frozen impatience at his adopted brother: Tomas, for a second.

Then back at Kuai Liang. With the same gaze.

Kuai Liang cleared his throat, his high body warmth due to his Pyromancy abilities, was now warming the garden of the conversation.

The frozen flowers showed cracks and they shattered due to the unusual cold. Which Bi-Han managed to ignore with no hesitation.

"Now that you have become grandmaster,

I believe that someone could join to command the Lin Kuei by your side, Brother." Kuai Liang sounded slightly hesitant.

Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. His icy malice fading by the moment.

"Explain yourself, Kuai Liang." Bi-Han crossed his arms with a questioning look, any more nonsense and he would explode, as a caterpillar out of it's metamorphosis phase. A resentment about to push out in an avalanche.

"..." Kuai Liang sighed.

"A partner by your side... Someone to be there.. emotionally and physically." Kuai Liang sounded more confident. Bi-Han allowed himself to root a strange.. considering glint in his eyes.

But before Bi-Han could respond with a snarky comment as usual, Tomas chided in.

"By what he means, is a wife by your side, Bi-Han." Bi-Han stood up abruptly, startling the two brothers.

Bi-Han glared at the both of them, and more harshly at Tomas. His tone was meant to bite deeply.

"Dismiss that nonsense, Tomas!" Bi-Han said while pointing a finger to the two of them.

"You know nothing of what is good for me."

Bi-Han directed his finger to himself.

"Only I do."

After the harsh snap, Bi-Han sat back down and digged into a steaming bun. His gaze moving away from the brothers.

Kuai Liang gave a "I am used to this" stare, and then gazed assuringly at Tomas who seemed taken aback.

Kuai Liang stood up and approached Bi-Han, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Brother.. It could give the clan more glory. The freedom you truly want it to have.. It is not a weakness, but a benefit." Kuai Liang said reassuringly while Bi-Han only responded with an unamused stare.

Then Bi-Han looked down, considering.

"The Lin Kuei requires my focus more than anything else." His tone was more composed.

"Any weakness or distraction will cause failure." Bi-Han continued still composed, the iceberg seemed about to break. "And all types of failure are unacceptable."

Tomas went in to defend Kuai Liang. His tone more.. Desperate and he gulped afterwards.

"Bi-Han, I am aware that you are seeking perfection.. yet you fear failure more than everything else." Tomas tried to reassure Bi-Han, but the latter responded with a glare and a slam on the table.

He had enough.

"Hold that tongue if you wish to keep it, Tomas." Bi-Han said very harshly. "I have no intentions of discussing this." Bi-Han left the icy gardens.. Leaving Tomas and Kuai Liang with disappointment.

Bi-Han was sat down on his office.. Feeling guilty after snapping again to his brothers. On that same damn chair that he always hunched over and got all his back pains from. How he'd wish to freeze it, and throw it to somewhere else to be never seen.

How he'd wish he'd get out of his head those foolish delusional thoughts. To stop snapping at his brothers and not consider Kuai Liang's proposal.

Bi-Han really thought.. Is he really ache-ing for a love he probably doesn't even know he really requires? Or.. deserves.

If he did, he only wished for a loyal partner.

A woman fit to his needs.. Not someone weak, someone who had a will of steel similar to his. A gaze that defies nature. Someone who he would trust entirely, to the point of worship. Yet he didn't wish to show it as a weakness.

He wanted to nurture those seeds if he did manage to get attached. He knew it was unlikely, but all he wished is for the new blossoms to open.

Appearances were everything.

It truly made him want to rip everything apart.

But his duties are always the up-most important. Nothing will change his ways.

Maybe another day, another life or another moment, he could indulge in those thoughts. But for now, the Lin Kuei were up-most important.

Even if it cost him everything.

-🌺

You held in your hands yet another rejected arranged marriage proposal.

The sun had fallen, and the sweet breeze of the evening had turned to the strong yet comforting mantle that arrived each winter.

Yet another clan has tried to bring down yours after you rejected their arranged marriage proposal.

It is not a surprise either. It has happened way too many times to count.

"These power-hungry fools." You knew you had no chance at this point. You had to marry into a clan and bloom ever more.

As a clan leader, your duties were always destined to benefit your future and not handle the past.

Yet you had to find the proper one.

You decided to check onto the many arranged marriage deals.. many were asking for 75% of revenue from your clan. That made you wince.

You have denied the blossom of any deep feelings, causing many of your stress and emotional unhappiness.

The gardenias outside your window didn't have the "positive" aura they once had. As if the cold winter had affected their once up-bright bloom.

Reminded you of someone.

And it kept you intrigued, contemplating the idea to investigate flowers once you have cleared your duties out of your schedule.

You will never catch a break at this point.

But for the sake of the clan, you will start to meet the one who will thaw that frozen flower within you.

To find the only worthy one, but only time would tell.

Once dawn arrived,

You would be ready to let the seeds grow.

For your sake.

-❄

The Lin Kuei temple was bustling with noise of the recruits trying to blossom their fighting techniques. On the quieter side,

Bi-Han was working on his office, handling important matters that were very indeed important, but not very important enough to mention. When Sektor entered his office with a paper on his hands. Bi-Han welcomed him in with only a stare and let him speak,

Crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze unamused as prepared to hear Sektor's usual ramblings.

"Well then." Bi-Han said slightly impatient.

"Grandmaster.. I assume you had accepted Kuai Liang's proposal?" Sektor said calmly as he placed the paper on Bi-Han's desk, letting him inspect the paper.

Bi-Han quirked an eyebrow.

"This, is a clan that Cyrax and I have been observing for the past 3 months." Sektor explained calmly once again, with backups of evidence slipping by. "Their financial debates and the way they continuously continue to grow is outstanding." Sektor looked Bi-Han, asking for approval on to keep rambling.

"...Very well. Keep explaining." Bi-Han's tone was one of interest. He inspected the paper, and nodded as Sektor spoke.

The lower part of the paper read as:

'The only way to affiliate as such is for the current leaders of the clans to conclude a marriage.' Bi-Han furrowed his eyebrows and then looked at Sektor who continued on rambling about how the clan's leader intellect was one of "other realms".

Yet, Sektor continued to explain.

"It is run by a woman. We haven't managed to collect any information from her. But from what we have.. investigated, is that she is a formidable business-partner.

It would make her intellect run the financial parts, and your strength to run the troops."

"This plan would make the clan bloom intensively, Grandmaster." Sektor added,

As if trying to convince him. Sektor stood tall, a hand to his chest. He was loyal to his Grandmaster, no matter what.

Then grew another sentence asking for Bi-Han's approval. Snapping Bi-Han out of his considering thoughts.

"This is a chance we can't afford to lose."

Bi-Han thought for a moment. He knows he can't refuse. Yet Sektor's proposal echo'ed on Bi-Han's head.

This could be the greater chance for the Lin Kuei to have the freedom it deserves. Growing inmensively in power would bring it to what he always envisioned..

And to... accept Kuai Liang's proposal.. He wasn't completely against it.

It was perfect.

Bi-Han placed the paper back down on the desk and signed it.

"Very well. I will be looking forward to meet this.. Grandmistress." Bi-Han said with stoicness laced with unusual interest and handed it to Sektor.

"Send it to the Grandmistress of that clan and report if she accepts an arrangement." Bi-Han continued, he was shivering with anticipation.

This was the best chance he had gotten this far.

And winter had just started. And soon after, it would all bloom.

But together, perhaps, two steel willed lives like a gardenia and an icy snowdrop might shape their lives and their clans into a sturdy netherrock, undestructible and strong.

Only if the meeting went the right path, that was. Only time would tell if an alliance could bloom where only distrust once reigned supreme, or if these two flowers were destined to remain tied forever, until their demise.

Bi-Han couldn't wait.

-🌺

"Lin Kuei?" You repeated your advisor's words with a scowl.

"You are naming it as if it was stupid. It is not, my lady." Your advisor said reassuringly.

"This traditional Chinese clan is a very low-profiled one. Truly focusing on strength and power." You gazed at the signed paper by the grandmaster, Bi-Han.

Ninjas, you thought. Even though it referred at the members as "warriors."

How old-fashioned. Yet, the accidental grunt that you let out at the word was worth it.

This was going to be.. unusual unlike the other clans that have sent you arrangement proposals.

The Lin Kuei's grandmaster wanted to marry you. Like everyone else. You had to check what he required.. And what he was proposing in return.

He required 25% of your revenue. Acceptable, since the other clans required around 30% or higher. Which this situation caused an unusual tingle in your stomach.

...He required your skills? He didn't specify in the file. It seems it was not even written by himself.

And he was offering in return..

25% revenue of the Lin Kuei's profits... decent, yet acceptable.

Yet other thing caught your eye.

A grandmistress role, a chair-man position in the Lin Kuei... This was strange,

Indeed.

Most clans that came to offer, offered you a rather high rank and role, but none as high as to be an equal with the leader.

This caught your interest, indeed.

"A grab." You mumbled to yourself. Catching your advisor's attention.

You gazed back at your advisor, who was waiting for your opinion on the matter.

You blinked a few times from the lack of sleep. How long ago did you change your pillow's case..?

Whatever.

"My interest peaked. Do tell me more." You said a bit commanding, yet softly. You gazed back at the paper.

This paper had arrived by chance, unlike the many others that arrived at the clan's gates.

This one appeared on your window. The one that had direct view to those.. foolish gardenias.

Those.. Lin Kuei ninjas must have snuck here, how amusing.

You had to call your advisor for information on the matter. This Lin Kuei. Not open to the public eye.. no registry on your clan's archives.. The only way to gain information is having a meeting with the clan leader or a representative.

"The Lin Kuei's grandmaster is said to be a monster. Cold and unforgiving." Your advisor said with a hesitant voice.

"But as you have told me countless times.. You are not forbidden to marry and not blossom any feelings, my lady." You gazed back your advisor.

True words, as long as you helped your clan not falter by any means..

You would.

You stayed silent as your advisor continued to explain many of the benefits.

"I will keep it in mind." You replied with a calm conposture. "Send a messenger. I will have a.. peaceful meeting with this.. Bi-Han." His name sounded bitter on your tongue.

You had to meet a cold yeti, and you weren't afraid.

Only for the sake of your clan.

"Let's prepare some buns. I haven't ate in a few days." You said unamusingly.

Your advisor seemed worried.. You have not ate steamed buns in days..

Or you have not ate in days.

How foolish.

Let's hope winter doesn't crush the lilacs of your excitement.

Which you so try to deny.

-❄|🌺

The weather was.. emotional dropping to say the least.

The sky a neutral shade of gray smoke, a comforting aura yet taunting with the idea of possible rain.

You considered this weather to be the most.. relaxing. Yet productive. You mostly took days off on this type of weather, considering it a day for full respite.

Even if it quadripled your paperwork.

You were excited to say the least. You prepared your appearance decently. Because after the most work-loaded of days, your face would be puffy and tired.

Yet it was the perfect weather to start a meeting.

The wind was practically non-existent,

And you were preparing to meet the Lin Kuei's grandmaster. An optimal preparation was put in place. While you watched the gardeners arrange the many well-kept flowers..

Including those foolish blood-colored gardenias.

They were pretty to say the least.

Flowers were always a fascination to you. A visual break from the un-aesthetics of the common wither of winter and deterioration.

Yet winter had already arrived.. seeing how most of the beautiful trees had no leaves left in the roots.. The past dealings of autumn had left a temporal mark in their spare.

It gave you more than enough confidence to head through the meeting.

You were dressed rather formally, the room that you had prepared for the meeting was open, a large frame with direct access to the main gardens.

It was embroided with a dark-tone of high quality oak. With tall bookcases covering the walls of the room.

The room's large frame's purpose was only to gaze at which had withered away and which had survived winter's embrace.

Yet your attention kept away at that damned garden. How to not survive a winter?

Life is dependant on will and skill. Even those who do not possess skill survive through will alone. Otherwise, no will, pure skill.

What a blossom of thoughts had been keeping away the matters that needed to seed their way to your brain.

Your attention was called, chiding it away from your gaze to the mostly red-colored garden.

The room was finished.

And as you gazed at the many flowers,

As long as you kept denying it,

You could not deny your liking for the red gardenias.

But other flowers had your affections as well.

The room was ready and a table was placed, a chair on either sides. You took the one that had a view to the door and left the remaining one for the grandmaster. Purposelly doing so for the view, and sake of the well-kept garden.

It was a small but thoughtful detail.. Maybe ambitious?

You were never the type of person to show off the things in your pockets.

You sat down in the chair and prepared the documments that you wanted to present, in-case the meeting was successful and the idea of an arrange marriage was successful.

If the so-called "monster" was keen to your ideals or not.

You had a tea set on another table in the room in-case he was in the mood for a steaming cup of tea, many flavors and spices to keep it to his liking.

Your advisor went to encourage you.. The past meetings with other clan leaders were.. unsuccesful and awkward.

He had arrived.

But as you continued to gaze at the garden and the tea set somewhere along the room.. You decided that your idea was gonna take place first.

Bi-Han had arrived at the clan gates, Kuai Liang by his side.

Kuai Liang sighed seeing Bi-Han's confidence.

"I never imagined to see the day where you would try to conquer a woman's affections." Kuai Liang stared at Bi-Han who was gazing at the arquitecture of the place.

Bi-Han was unamused visibly by Kuai Liang's remark.

"Silence. It is for our good." Bi-Han's tone was composed, not meaning to hurt Kuai Liang.

Yet he re-directed his gaze to Kuai Liang with a nod.

"We shall enter. I am sure the grandmistress might be waiting for us." Bi-Han walked inside and Kuai Liang followed silently.

But Kuai Liang did not fail to notice the excitement laced in his tone, yet the raise in his eyebrows.

One of the clan members greeted them with a bow and leaded them to the meeting room..

And once Bi-Han opened the door...

You weren't there.

Kuai Liang and Bi-Han stepped inside in confusion. Was this the wrong room had they just entered?

The room seemed to be set up for a meeting and the scenery of the garden seemed appealing to the eyes.

They were in the according room.

Then they saw a figure, she entered the building with flowers on her hands, placing them with the spices sitting beside the multiple flavors of tea.

Her stance not faltering her resting face seemed unamused, to say the least.

There you were. You were grabbing the roses and jasmine flowers to give the tea flavors more variety.

It hurt your heart to cut off some of the bloomed delicacies, but for the sake of the meeting it was optimal.

You had to address them.. No time to slack.

You cleared your throat and turned to face the two masked men.

"Welcome.. I was not informed of an.. advisor." You said composed while re-directing your gaze to Kuai Liang. "Must we start?"

Kuai Liang bowed his head. "Grandmistress, you are mistaken. I am simply accompanying my brother." You nodded,

noticing of Bi-Han's lack of response and the penetrating stare he was pointing at you.

You stayed silent gazing at them for a few seconds then you gazed back at the tea.

"Tea? Most foreign flavors I have at my disposal." You said calmly as you looked for approval to prepare some tea.

Courtesy at it's finest. Tea was a great start.

"Pu'erh. With Mantao." Bi-Han said coldly, but composed. These were the only words he had said so far,

Meanwhile he stood beside Kuai Liang, who didn't seem to have much faith on Bi-Han.

"No, Thank you for the offer." Kuai Liang said gruffly yet friendly.

You nodded at their words, placing the boiling water into cups and starting to add the bags of tea.

You prepared some tea for yourself as well, Chamomille.. meant to calm your nerves in-case of any disagreement or anything that would stress you.

You brewed the tea and placed it on the table, placing the Pu'erh teacup with a spice of Mantao honey on Bi-Han's side of the table and your chamomille teacup on the side you were destined to sit.

Decent so far. A show of courtesy shown by your part.

"Please, sit down so we can begin." You say down calmly and composed. Your face showing calmness,

But a frigid composture that "can't" be cracked.

You gazed at Kuai Liang who was still standing.

"I apologise for the lack of seating. I was informed that this meeting would be entirely confidential." You let out a sigh at your words.

Kuai Liang hesitated.

"No need to apologise. I wasn't aware of my compa-" Kuai Liang was shut by Bi-Han's gaze.

Bi-Han had his mask on, so did Kuai Liang. But Kuai Liang knew that Bi-Han was scowling under the mask.

After all, Bi-Han had "convinced" him. In reality, obligated him. If not, Bi-Han would have dealt with this matter himself.

Bi-Han wanted none to know this.

He would be hysterical if his brother wasn't there to watch. He would ever not, admit that fact.

Bi-Han sat down, while Kuai Liang was standing awkwardly beside.

The yellow one's eyebrows were furrowed? No.. those were only the marks due to the constant frowning on his part. And Bi-Han seemed to have met the same predicament.

Bi-Han's eyebrows were relaxed. But his eyes, with a stern look were focused entirely on you, as if judging you. You started to speak, gazing back with a tone of admission. As if to show respect.

Shall it start.

"I am curious of the fact that a low-profiled clan seeks an alliance with one as mine." You crossed your arms over your chest. Bi-Han's gaze still piercing.

"The Lin Kuei especializes in stealth, force and commitment." Bi-Han didn't even acknowledge his tea.

The steam slowly fading away as the room's temperature went down by the minute.

You nodded at his words. He didn't mention power once. Most of the clan leaders mentioned how successful their clans were, yet the Lin Kuei were thriving with a health and development unlike any others and a humble response had surprised you.

"...It is great to hear. My advisor had informed me of the achievings of your clan." You drank the chamomille.. The soft yet strong flavor making you relax.

Meanwhile Bi-Han..

Bi-Han was feeling.. concerned. The Lin Kuei never had any sort of meetings like this in the past. His father had met his mother during a skirmish, saving her life and taking her in to the Lin Kuei.

As long as he knew, it was a tale that his mother used to tell him and his brothers to fall asleep.

"Foolish. That old man surely kidnapped and forced her against her will." Bi-Han's thoughts were always aggressive, to no surprise.

Yet Bi-Han stared at you as you spoke over the documents, speaking about possible benefits and the downfalls that could be caused.

He appreciated your determination for your duty.

It was rare to not see leaders slack off and live off their wealth. Yet you took that, threw it on the ground and set it on fire.

Your will was fascinating to Bi-Han. Even if he wouldn't show it. He kept his piercing stare.

You continued to speak, thinking that Bi-Han had absolutely no interest.

You kept your conversation. You seemed to be speaking alone as Bi-Han only gave back nods and barely spoken words. It unfuriated you yet it seemed to be progressing well.

"I am affirming that this agreement will not only bring power. Prosperity and humility are the most important aspect of a clan. Peace through framework is preferable than an endless chase of power."

You said calmly. Noticing how Bi-Han's gaze darkened.

He instantly furrowed his eyebrows.

"Power brings respect. More power no conflicts to being with." Bi-Han's tone was unintentionally harsher.

You narrowed your eyes.

"Power is not by any means a weapon. A word that exists on your mind to cause you ambition." You sighed.

"It is a true sense of strength that must be taken care off, carefully."

Bi-Han notably got more and more furious. It was obvious he was attempting to hold his composture in.

Kuai Liang seemed concerned too,

but knew nothing would calm his brother's rage.

It didn't stop Bi-Han.

"You work off weakness."

Bi-Han's true speech had risen up.

"Might alone will bring the 'humility' and 'prosperity' you seek. Only through wars and struggle." He continued.

"And if you are against violence then you are not fit to work with the Lin Kuei. Simple as that is."

Bi-Han spat out coldly. The disagreement had escalated.

You could barely keep your snarky remarks from your composture.

You had to end this.

"I am aware that the Lin Kuei work off might and power alone." You stood up abruptly.

Bi-Han's eyebrows both raised. It was a funny sight, to say the least.

"I was expecting a façade to get in my good side, grandmaster" You stared directly to in-between his eyebrows.

Your tone meant to show disappointment in the outcome of this meeting.

"Yet you have only shown your true colors."

Kuai Liang seemed panicked, looking at Bi-Han in a way to tell him to salvage this.

"This meeting is concluded. Leave."

You left to the gardens.. Passing by the red gardenias and letting out a grunt.

Even this garden was enough to fuel your anger.

You headed into the outsides of your clan..

In a way to soothe your nerves..

To the hidden forest glade within.

No distractions.

-🌺|❄

Bi-Han was distraught to say the least.

He had managed to ruin the chance to win the woman's affections and approval.

Now he had fully-lost the chance to gain it.

This could affect the Lin Kuei in a sort of way? If she decided to become an enemy.

Bi-Han simply stayed sat, he realized that he did not gaze even once at the cold tea in front of him.

He had been unintentionally having a lack of respect.

He hated this.

"Brother." Kuai Liang spoke after a minute of awkward silence. "If you don't go after her- You might lose your chance." Kuai Liang was nervous.

He had seen the entire disagreement pass by like a mannequin.. It hurt seeing how Bi-Han was messing it all over and not being able to intervene.

Bi-Han looked up at Kuai Liang.

"I suppose so." Bi-Han stared to the gardens, the multiple colored gardens with varieties he had not seen at the Lin Kuei..

A high-quantity of flowers that grow in gardens with higher temperature.

He had never seen a lotus flower. Only from the pictures his mother had shown him.

"Beautiful". He thought.

Bi-Han remembered the many topics his mother used to ramble about.

Flowers, especially.

He had acquired a great knowledge for gardening due to his mother's teaching.

He couldn't help but reminisce.

"Bi-Han, dear. Come here." Bi-Han heard his mother's voice call him out of the training with his brothers.

He would get scolded for leaving, but spending time with his mother was more important to him than anything.

"Come here." Bi-Han's mother took Bi-Han lithe form in his arms. She held a book and sat beside flowers on the well-tended to gardens in the snowy terrain that the Lin Kuei temple resided in.

Bi-Han was in for a long teaching.

"That, is a roseroot. Grows only in the highest of places. We occasionally place some of the leaves on our dishes." Bi-Han let himself root out a face of disgust and his mother chuckled. She stared lovingly to Bi-Han's interest.

She knew a break from his harsh training might do him well.

Bi-Han gazed at the droopy flowers close to his mother and then back at her.

"Oh? Those are Galanthus. Also known as Snowdrops, dear. You will see them all year, they surely love the snow."

Bi-Han paid attention to the entirety of his mother's teachings.

If Bi-Han couldn't admit it, he had such knowledge for such things as flowers. Which he would call "weak."

Now all he had left for the memory was his mother's flora research in the Lin Kuei's archives.

He would make usage of it one day.

He was sure of it.

Bi-Han was shook out of his memory and noticed Kuai Liang staring at him disapprovingly.

"Brother! You have to find her!" Kuai Liang seemed more desperate. Unusual due to his mastered patience at his brother's stubborness.

Bi-Han nodded and stood up. Running after the ominous clan leader.

He would make ammends.

It was for his clan after all.

You were sat in a tree trunk. The smokey gray sky still haunting your patience and you façade slowly dropping out. Your face in your hands.

Your hands felt like burning steel.

It hurt.

What did go wrong? You gave the up-most courtesy that you learnt over your entire life.

You knew respect was something primal, necessary for every lifetime interaction. Yet any fools that spoke to you were lacking of such formality.

Were you too cold? Maybe it could be cause.

He stared at you as if you were garbage,

A lifeless doll.

Like everyone else.

Your fury was undeniable.

As long as you kept it inside that locked heart, and no one tried opening to see the one memory hidden inside, it would maintain the peace you always kept.

You must not fracture.

This was only one of the many meetings that were to come.

This wouldn't let you down even once.

The rooted façade would not fall apart.

Yet you felt the icy presence behind you. You did not move an inch but his menacing aura was enough to sent a shiver down your spine.

Letting yourself bloom a sigh.

Your trail was left right open it seems,

He was here.

-❄|🌺

Bi-Han stared at the woman in front of him.

He knew that sneaking behind her while she tried to keep her emotional turmoil at bay would only cause her even more distress,

But he wouldn't be caught yet.

He only heard your voice besides the sounds of the harsh wind.

"Have you come here to taunt me? I am not emotionally available for yet another pointless debate." You said gruffly.

Fighting the tears that were trying to come out.

"No. I only wish to.. make ammends." Bi-Han said a bit hesitantly.

You stared up in confusion.

"Yet another scheme to make me fall. Your ways of treason are not affordable." You let out, meaning to bite.

Bi-Han sighed.

He knew he could not deal with an emotional woman that tried to hold her rage.

"There are other ways we can join together. Other than power." Bi-Han said quite lowly.

He wanted to make it clear.

"I wish the best for the Lin Kuei. And I have observed that you have the same ideal for your clan." You stared confused,

Not knowing where he was heading to in the conversation.

"I wish to make a change in the contract."

You nodded at his request. Raising your eyebrows.

"No marriage ceremony?" You said confidently, guessing that was his idea. He seemed uncomfortable at the idea of a wedding.

His shoulders tensed, he sighed.

"No. I want your clan to join the Lin Kuei. As a branch." You seemed more furious at that.

You could not take this lightly.

"I would not wish such fate to my clan. I blossomed day and night for such path." You said coldly.

Your emotions rising up once again.

"I am still offering the chair-man position. You and I will be equal. You will remain as a grandmistress." Bi-Han said,

His gaze looking at you with a convincing glint.

"I am not against the idea." Bi-Han sighed at your words. He had to knock some sense into you, but he would not yell.

You were a stubborn mess to deal with.

"So be it." The grandmaster said with a huff.

"To clear your stubborn soul that you possess, let's have a fight." Bi-Han stepped back and put himself into a ready'ed battle stance.

You had not put your self-defense abilities to the test in a long time. Approximately around last summer.

Yet you were confident. A good match, isolated?

No unwanted attention would be brought here.

Just what you wanted.

Bi-Han noticed by the determined glint on your gaze as you stood up from the trunk you previously turmoiled on.

You were ready.

And you were ready to blow off every steam you needed.

A mean of justice that would not be forgotten by him. A way to break the world and the law of your heart.

A broken heart once filled with tenderness.

Would that break his rule? Surely not. But it would be an amazing way to de-stress.

You were panting heavily, so was Bi-Han.

This spar quickly transformed into "who can break eachother's nose first." You weren't against the idea but the experience that Bi-Han had at hand-to-hand kombat was higher than yours.

You could tell he was going easy on you.

You hated it.

The trees shaked as a foul amount of punches were exchanged. Bi-Han covering his fits in ice to catch you more off guard.

You tried to not break your composture seeing that he was a cryomancer.

You could not hold back the scowl that you blossomed out of your face.

No way you're losing this.

You ducked and evaded most of his "pulled-punches". Though your emotions remained turmoiled, you mind was only on the battle. Even with the heavy drag of your heart.

Everything was dragged away by the wind.

Two souls connect as one only for such intense fight.

Their eyes connected and with that one glance..

It was finished.

You fell down to the ground exhausted.

Bi-Han offered his hand to help you stand up.

"I understimated you, woman." He said panting, with a barely noticeable tone of admiration.

You gazed up at him for a few seconds, narrowing your eyes as you took his hand to help you.

"I am glad we have made the ammends you wished. Yet, I am not convinced by your proposal."

You didn't want your clan to be disregarded as a branch inside the Lin Kuei.

"Then, we shall meet at dawn tomorrow. A meeting to the Lin Kuei temple will take place." Bi-Han said with his back turned to you.

"I will be waiting, grandmistress." Bi-Han said lowly but softly and left the glade.

"Very well..." You said hesitantly.

As for all that mattered... Nothing did.

Tomorrow you would see if everything was worth it, or to throw it away.

This Bi-Han had fished your attention. And you couldn't escape from it.

But it was enough.

As long as it helped you too..

You were more than happy to let your heart blossom for just that man.

Even if you were delusional enough.

🌺|❄

Not the cliffhanger, but yeah.

This is too long for my liking.

(I'll try to upload this to AO3 as well..)

A part 2 is guaranteed! No idea when it'll come out though. 😭

This took forever to write and any reblogs are appreciated! Feedback is also to be accepted, don't be shy :D

Thank you so much for reading :)

-Shigu 💖

#mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #bi-han x reader #bi han #bi han mk #bi han x you #STOP SLANDERING ON TOMAS BI-HAN #sub zero x reader #bi han sub zero #ShiguWritesFics #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1

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eevee-genshin-blog · 4 months

Text

How'd This Happen?! Pt.2

Holy- I wasn't expecting everyone to like this; But thanks for the support! Please enjoy this part two of the story!

You stared at the now knocked out Razor. You maybe shouldn't have used a mix of Geo and Electro to knock him out... Now you felt bad, Razor wasn't one of your mains, but you did max out friendship with him. Wait a damn minute... What if this is like that one idea you read on Tumbler?! Where the higher Friendship the character had a better chance of recognizing you! That would give you at least one or two safe people per Nation!!

You're getting off track.. You shake your head and walk over to Razor, and sniff him, you couldn't rely on your human form since, one you didn't have clothes, and two you didn't want to mess up anything; After all... You liked being free and chaotic.

You huff and headbutted Razor, as hard as you could do. It didn't wake him up, but it left a bruise on him. You nudged him, to no avail.

Now how were you gonna fix this... Razor most likely had someone with him, and if they find Razor they'll find you; A black cat with a moon marking on your head, braided fur, blue, silver, and gold paint on you, and a Hilichurl mask on your side...

(The mask wouldn't work on your face, you couldn't see through it, and it was still too big even after the Hilichurls made it so small.)

Yea, this could risk you, but. What's gonna happen? You were starting to get bored now... So a chase would be fun... But you rather not, what if they realized you were the real deal? You didn't want to stay still. But you were starting to dislike the False on the throne.

Actually, you kinda wanted to punch her in the face now... But you'll let them rule for longer. You needed to wake up Razor or move him somewhere. Maybe Cyro would wake him up...

You take a deep breath and gently nuzzle Razor's neck, the boy in question still doesn't wake up. Now, you felt pretty bad about that... Maybe you shouldn't use two elements to knock someone out- A noise behind you, sounding like a person made you panic.

Without thinking, you swirl around and bite someone's leg, Electro bursts once you make contact and the person hits the ground... You let go and freeze... You knocked out Bennett...

Damn it..

You felt bad now... You dragged them into the forest mainly because you didn't want anyone to see them passed out, nor did you like the idea of leaving the to the Hilichurls... So, they were tied to a tree(with a lot of vines), but they're awake, and not every happy... Bennett's eyes fell onto you, "Erm.. H- hey there... Can you help us?"

Holy shit!! He talked to a cat?

You snorted, turning and walking off. "Hey!" "S- Stupid Weird Smelling Cat!"

After a few minutes, you found where you wanted to go.. But you hoped this wouldn't be a game of Dog and Cat... You found a clearing which hopefully was- HOLY SHIT HE'S A TITAN!!

You stared at the huge Blizzard God- Wait, can you still call Andrius a Blizzard god?

You tilt your head and look at him as he speaks, "What's a tiny cat doing here, where you could be hurt?" He had a teasing tone to it... You were confused, but shapeshifted into a wolf to properly speak to him.

"Sup?" You basically greet him, like he wasn't the literal Wolf of the North, the man who embodied wolves. He seemed amused with your antics.

"Soo... Why aren't you shocked?" You asked him, both confused and happy to speak to someone.

Andrius hums, "As a creature of Teyvat, I am connected to the land... I can realize when the Creator stands before me." You tried processing that but gave up. "So... Can you just help me with something real quick...? I can't turn into my human form right now and I need a bit of help..." You ask, somewhat nervously.

Thirty minutes later, you had brought the giant wolf to where Bennett and Razor are. Both looked horrified at the fact that you a tiny cat, summoned one of the Four Winds... You loved it.

Andrius helped you with getting the vines off of the two explorers. Though while they were shocked, you took the chance to leave after thanking Andrius.

You had no regrets... But now you wanted to meet the other Four Winds...

#sagau x reader #sagau impostor au #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #Cat Creator #sagau brainrot #resident-cryptid #razor genshin impact #bennett genshin impact #The Four Winds #reader is not called y/n #reader is not traveler #creator reader #shapeshifter

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pinkthrone445 · 6 months

Text

~A night to remember?~

Part 2

Part 1

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: fluff, funny, hurt, love.

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, mention of sex, vulgar language.

Summary: After Melissa is dumped, you help her go back out and have fun,but everything went south when you end up in bed together.

_____________________________

Now everything made sense, the perfume of the room, how calm you felt there, the beautiful room, her red hair and the softness of her skin. All of that belonged to the woman who was hugging you with her naked body against yours. All of that belonged to the woman you were longing to know where she was. All of that belonged to Melissa, your co-worker with whom you'd had sex the night before. A night you didn't remember anything about.

-"Fuck..."-It was all that managed to come out of your lips, waking up and making your bed partner open her eyes, looking at you with the same surprise that you looked at her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Although you were both confused, or frightened, neither of you did anything to move or separate, as if making a sudden movement would make the situation more real. Melissa's hand was still on your waist, her legs intertwined with yours and her chest close to yours. Her chest, her bare, abundant, full of marks that you had made, (hell, you had been there for a long time to leave her so full of marks) , soft chest was close to yours, her breathing was agitated and that made her body press more against you. Was your feeling or the bed and the room got smaller, why was it hard to breathe? Why was it hard to even blink? Was she blinking? Why couldn't you stop looking at her eyes? Her beautiful, deep green eyes... Were they darker than normal? Why did you feel like she was looking at your soul? Could she read your thoughts? Why wouldn't your head stop working? Were you talking or just thinking? She was talking to you and you weren't listening to her? Her lips didn't move, they were only slightly parted, and her breathing was very agitated. Her pink full lips, so beautiful... You wanted to kiss her, you needed to. Was it your impression or was she getting close to you? Did she want to kiss you too? What if you kissed her?... What if?...

And suddenly, everything stopped, your thoughts, time, the world stopped. If it wasn't for the fact that you felt like it was about to come out of your chest, you would have thought that your heart stopped too. You didn't know if Melissa kissed you or if you kissed her, all you knew was that her lips were on yours and that they were addictive. Her hands pulled closer to her body as if she wanted to join into one, her legs intertwined with yours as if they were vines, her chest clinging to yours as if a cloud were hugging you, they were so soft. And her lips, her lips again, her lips would have deserved a separate chapter in the book of world wonders. How could anyone have so much perfection? How could someone kiss so well? A kiss wasn't enough anymore, you wanted more from her. All your mind could do was repeat her name over and over again. Mel, Isa, Mel-Mel, Melissa... Her, her, her and only her. Making a risky decision, you bit her lip and tugged at it a bit earning a moan from her, a moan that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a risk that even if there was a 99% chance of dying, you would do it over and over again a thousand times. Melissa's hands ran over your naked body and stopped on your ass, squeezing and making you moan this time, an opportunity that the redhead took advantage of to insert her tongue into your mouth, you would have fought for dominance if you hadn't felt so consumed by the woman in front of you. Trying not to turn into a pile of jelly in front of her, was taking a lot of effort. You felt drunker at the time than you had the night before after all the drinks you'd had, only now you could remember every part of it. You doubted that at any point in your existence you could erase the way her body felt on yours, the way her lips fit perfectly with yours. You were sure that even if you died and reincarnated, that memory wasn't going to go away. You didn't know when you'd tangled your hands in her hair, but it was so soft, a great contrast to the roughness with which you were now kissing each other. It was all too much, you felt like you could explode at any moment. You wished this would last forever but it was impossible, and before you knew it, the moment was shattered when Melissa suddenly opened her eyes and broke away from you so quickly that she pushed you off the bed causing you to fall to the floor. The pain in your body from the events of the night before, plus the pounding to the ground, made you scream because of the pain that ran through your body

-"Melissa! What's wrong with you?" - You asked with a frown, what had made hef change action so quickly? You didn't understand anything until you heard it

-"Melissa? Melissa schemmenti! Are you home?!"-Barbara's scream downstairs swept through the house. Barbara had a spare key, you knew that, she had a key and had used it to get in, shit. Frightened and still naked on the carpet floor, you looked at the redhead who was running to put on a robe trying to cover her naked body.

-"Don't even think about getting out of here"-was all she said before leaving the room and closing the door. You carefully got up off the floor and started looking for your clothes, but you couldn't find anything but your panties, you put them on and grabbed a plaid shirt of Melissa's that was on a chair. Taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't there, you grabbed the shirt in your hands and sniffed it, it smelled like her room, like her. Not like her perfume, but like her essence, you loved her scent... And you looked good with her shirt on.

When Melissa came downstairs, she saw the mess of clothes in the living room, clothes on the couch, on the coffee table, on the lamp, everywhere. Most of them were the clothes she had worn the night before, but very close to Barbara was your dress on the floor, Melissa knew that if the eldest saw the garment, it wouldn't take long to add two plus two and deduce that you were there too. Quickly the red-haired woman ran in front of Barbara and grabbed the dress, tucking it under her robe before the brunette saw it. The eldest was frightened by the redhead's enthusiasm

-"Melissa! You almost made me have a heart attack! Where were you? Why didn't you answer your cell phone? Are you ok?" -Barbara questioned worriedly and looked at the redhead's hair, almost as messy as the house, she also noticed a couple of glasses on the table and the robe she was wearing to hide her naked body, she was also able to notice all the marks she had on her chest -"oh...You have a visitors... Good for you my friend!"-the eldest laughed exited-"I'll leave, but tomorrow at work you have to tell me all about it! Oh! And one more thing, Do you know something about (Y/N)? I sent her messages but she left me on read..." - Of course Melissa knew where you were, you were in her room naked and full of marks she made on your body

-"Y-yes! She told me she was at the house of a woman she met, you know how she is... She said she'd be home ina few hours but that she was fine"-the redhead didn't know how to lie without her friend noticing, but technically what she was saying wasn't a lie. A sigh of relief left her lips when she saw her friend believe her and ask no more questions. After saying goodbye, the redhead closed the door of the house and went upstairs to the room to look for you. When she came in and saw you lying face down on her bed, with her shirt on and your butt barely visible because of the length of the garment, she forgot everything she was going to tell you

-"(Y/N)..."-It was all that managed to come out of the redhead's lips, unable to move her eyes from your figure. You sighed and sat on the bed nodding

-"I know, I know... I have to go. I've had enough experiences in the past to know that simply staying overnight is playing a lot with my luck. I just need to find my clothes and I'll go..." -You muttered, getting up and standing next to her to open the door-"It's safe to go downstairs, isn't it?"-Melissa nodded, still too lost to formulate a complete sentence. She carefully gave you space to leave the room and follow you, completely forgetting that your dress was under her robe. For a few minutes she watched as you picked up your shoes from the living room and kept looking. Carefully she went upstairs and came down with a jean of hers and handed it to you since you couldn't find your dress, so that you would have decent clothes to go home, saying that another day you could give it back to her. Carefully you put it on and arranged your hair a little in a mirror

-"Do you want to stay for breakfast? I don't want to be the one to blame for you fainting in the middle of the street for leaving on an empty stomach"- said the eldest and you turned to see her with a big smile that you couldn't hide. You were never good at hiding your reactions anyway and staying longer with her and enjoying her food made you very happy.

-"I-I'll go now..." -You whispered without knowing how to proceed, you wanted to stay a little longer, in her arms, against her body, without separating yourself from her lips, but you didn't know if she wanted too. You'd only been with her for a couple of hours and it was already an addiction. You were about to open the door when your stomach rumbled from the hunger you had

For her part, Melissa was in a battle, her reasoning against her wishes. Why did you feel so addictive? Why did it feel different than other times when she had been with someone only one night? Why wasn't it enough and she wanted more than one night? How would the relationship between you change? How would you continue to work together now? Would you still be friends? What would Barbara and the others think if they found out about this? You were used to being with someone for only one night, but she wasn't that used to it, what would you think if she wanted a serious relationship? And that shirt, why did you have to look so good wearing her clothes?

-"Mel-Mel?" - you asked, dragging her out of her drowning thoughts-"You're going to burn the eggs if you don't take them out of the pan" - You whispered and the redhead came back to reality and continued cooking in silence. You carefully walked over to her side and rested one of your hands on her arm, worried about the way she was frowning so angrily-"Do you want us to talk about what happened?..."

-"No" - The redhead replied quickly- "Whatever happened last night, or however we end up in bed together, can't happen again, did you understood? I'm not like you, I don't do this" - she said looking at you very seriously and talking a little bit to harsh, you frowned

-"Don't talk to me like that, whatever happened last night, I don't remember forcing you to do it, not that I remember much either, but it was both of our responsibility, not just mine. So don't talk to me like that Melissa. Just because you're angry that you didn't control your impulses, doesn't give you the right to raise your voice at me."- You replied just as seriously and sighed-"I'd better go now, I'm not hungry anymore" - It was the last thing that came out of your mouth before you left.

Melissa was angry and she took it out on you, but she was really mad at herself, it bothered her that she didn't remember anything, it bothered her to feel scared and confused, it bothered her that her first time with you was while she was drunk.

The next day you waited for a message or to know something about the redhead, but nothing arrived on your cell phone and you didn't know if it was going to help if you talked to her. So you didn't.

On Monday morning you got to school early, avoiding the break room altogether and going straight to your classroom. Several times without you noticing, Melissa walked down the hallway just to stare at you for a few seconds, she almost went crazy when she saw that you were wearing her shirt. Your hair was in a high ponytail, you were wearing your glasses, white sneakers, a pair of jeans and her shirt with the front tucked into your pants, you looked so beautiful that she couldn't avoid looking at you for a few more seconds than what it was consider proper.

At lunchtime you went to the staff room and started talking to Barbara about a little bit of everything, but without mentioning anything that had happened to you and the redhead. Everything was like a normal day until Melissa also arrived at the table, you followed her with your eyes but she did not look up at any time, she took out of her bag a tupperware with food and put it in front of you without looking at you or saying anything

-"Melissa... Can you talk to me? Or at least look at me?"- You asked a little more harsh that you intended to, but the redhead just took out her food and ate in silence looking at her phone. You saw your Tupperware, it was your favorite food and you sighed getting up from the table and giving the tupperware to Gregory to eat, without saying anything else, you left. Barbara looked at everything confused, your interaction with the redhead and your rejection of food, you never refused what Mel cooked.

-"What was that?" - Barbara asked to her friend and she just shrugged her shoulders with her mouth full. Although it was hard for her to admit it, she wasn't good at apologizing and that's what she was trying to do with the lunch she gave you, but it hurt her when she saw that you gave it to Gregory and left to avoid being with her. It hurt her to see that she was hurting you, but she didn't know how to stop it.

A couple more days passed, days where you were talking to Barbara but Melissa was trying not to talk to you. She kept bringing you food, but you still didn't eat. What she would give to go back to the way things were before, to call her Mel-Mel again and kiss her forehead when she brought you food, hug her when you were happy, or flirt with her as a joke. Melissa missed you, but she couldn't be around you without remembering how you kissed, how your skin felt against hers, how beautiful you looked with the marks on your body. She couldn't be around you without wanting to kiss you and be with you again. But she knew that if the two continued to see each other, it would be a violation of the school code for maintaining an uninformed relationship, and she wasn't ready to have that conversation with Ava, so she kept avoiding you.

That day, at the end of the school day, Melissa saw you leaning against the wall outside your classroom, with you was a tall and beautiful girl that she had seen before, she was friends with Janine. The girl was flirting with you, and Melissa knew you, she knew your gestures and movements, she knew you were being subtle but you were also flirting with her. That made her blood boil, she didn't know why, but it bothered her a lot.

With long, determined steps she approached you and took your hand to get your attention, surprised , you looked at her and raised an eyebrow

-"Can we talk?"- She whispered, looking at you and turning her back on the other woman

-"Oh, now you wanna talk? I don't want to now, I'm talking with a friend"- you answered dryly. She didn't really want to talk, but she also didn't want to see you flirting with someone else

-"Please, it's important" - she pleaded

-"This is important too, she was inviting me to a night out" - you insisted, you were mad at her and her childish behavior

-"It's okay, we'll keep talking later, you already have my number"-said the other girl and kissed your cheek and then left. You sighed and turned to look at the red-haired woman with a frown

-"What do you want now, Melissa? What did you want to talk about?" -you asked annoyed

-"Nothing, it doesn't matter anymore"-She tried to leave but you grabbed her hand

-"No, You're not going to leave again. What the hell it is wrong with you? I don't understand you, you treat me like it's all my fault, you can't even look at me or be in the same room as me! You're being a real asshole Melissa!"- Just as you were screaming, Barbara was coming out of her classroom listening to you

-"You two! Come here right now!"- yelled the eldest. Melissa and you walked into Barbara's classroom, she made you two sit across from each other in the children's little chairs. Neither of you dared to look at Barbara or say something. -"What is wrong with you two? You haven't spoken to each other for days, and before you couldn't go a single day without being together" -questioned the oldest

-"Nothing happened, never mind"-The red-haired woman replied without looking at either of you. You were tired of her stupid behavior, she wanted to pretend that nothing happened when so much had happened between you. If she didn't speak, you would

-"Do you want to know what happened Barbara? This happened"-You stood up and with a single pull, you undid several buttons from Melissa's blouse revealing her chest all marked, then you detached yours revealing your marks. Your eyes almost stayed on the redhead's cleavage if it weren't for the fact that you were determined to end this now.-"This, this happened, we fucked! We did it drunk the night we went out alone. When you went to see Melissa at home, I was still there, in her room, seconds before you arrived, we were kissing very passionately. And Melissa can't deal with the fact that we sleep together, so she's upset with me, like it's not her fault too. I asked her if she wanted to talk and she said no, she wanted to pretend that nothing happened, but when I pretend that nothing happened and I flirt with someone else, that also makes her angry. And I miss her, I miss my friend but she is being childish and mean with me. That's what happened"-You explained everything to Barbara, letting the annoyance out. The eldest looked at you both in surprise, she expected anything but that. Melissa sighed and stood up to stand in front of you

-"I'm sorry, I know I've been an asshole these days and you didn't deserve it, I just got scared... I thought that what had happened would ruin our friendship and that I would lose you. I don't regret what happened that night or kissing you afterwards, but I have to admit that I'm very scared to see where this is going and that, if it doesn't work, we'll end up drifting apart... I don't wanna lose you..."-she whispered and you smiled a little

-"Mel-Mel... You're a thousand steps ahead... We slept and were together, first we need to talk honestly if we want that to happen again or not and if we want something serious or not. You can't think about the end of a relationship that hasn't even begun yet. I'm willing to try to see where this goes if you want it too. I can't promise you what the end of this will look like, but I know that if we try our best, we will have a good result. I always liked you but I didn't try anything because you were in a relationship, but I've always wanted to be with you. Waking up next to you was one of my happiest mornings. I'm willing to see where this goes, say you want too... I don't think fear will stop the great Melissa Schemmenti from doing anything..."-you said caressing her cheek and she leaned on your touch

-"I wanna try to... I'm really sorry about my behavior... I'll make a fancy dinner for you as an apology... And maybe after you could spend the night at my house..." - she smiled looking ant you and kissed your forehead while you nodded hugging her tightly. Barbara looked at you very happily, seeing how finally the everyday flirtation turned into love between you.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abott elementary

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guilty-pleasures21 · 4 months

Text

Something like coming home

Whilst currently writing out part 2 of Injured, I have decided to post part 1 of this Jason Todd fic first. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 - the turning point

Part 2 - keeping secrets

Part 3 - exposed!

Part 4 - dating

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex including fingering (f receiving), blow jobs (f & m receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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He felt a sharp sting on his wrist and looked down to find an angry red scratch that definitely hadn’t been there before.

“What the hell?” Jason demanded. “What was that?” Ivy’s lips twisted into a wicked grin and he felt his stomach begin to drop in anticipation of her answer.

“My signature creation, of course.” She leaned back, one of her plants unfurling into a throne for her to collapse into. She crossed one leg over the other, relaxing into her seat with the confidence of someone who knew they’d already won. “In a minute, you’ll find yourself mad with desire for me, ready to do anything I ask.” Jason clenched his fists. He’d just have to make sure he took her down before the poison kicked in. He rushed forward, but was immediately pulled back by thick, twisting vines clamping around his arms and legs. He struggled against them, but they just tightened their grip, forcing him to his knees before their queen. She flicked her hair back, the auburn waves cascading over her shoulders. Not a single strand was out of place, no wild, unruly curls that would frizz up at the first touch of a brush or the first hint of rain. What? Jason shook his head, confused by the sudden appearance of the thought. He pulled on one of the vines, snarling at Ivy. But she just gazed down at him with her upturned, heavily-lidded eyes. Light brown, with flecks of green dotting the irises. Not dark. Not large and almond-shaped and studying the world with a constant curiosity. They probably didn’t glow gold in the light of the setting sun either. Jason slowed his breathing, trying to calm the slowly increasing pace of his heart. What the hell was happening to him?

“There’s no use trying to fight it, darling,” Ivy told him. She crossed one leg over the other, treating him to a comprehensive view of her curves. Curves that he’d never wrapped his arms around when she was having a bad day. Curves that would never fit against him like she’d been made especially for him. Curves that he’d never wondered what it would feel like to run his hands, no, his lips, all over-. He froze, realisation dawning upon him.

“F*ck.” Ivy laughed, a delicate laugh that was not full or warm or forced the corners of his lips to turn up at the end against his own will. Misunderstanding his response, she released him from his binds and sauntered over to him.

Etc., Jason defeats her. Sorry! I don't like writing fight scenes. 😭

“What?!” she screeched. “How did it not work?! It always works! You were supposed to fall madly in love with me!” Jason closed his eyes and hung his head.

“It did work, Ivy,” he sighed. “It just turns out that I’m already 'madly in love' with someone else.”

“You know, Jace, maybe you shouldn’t be putting yourself in life-threatening situations every night,” she suggested, her lips pulled tight in a sarcastic smile. He sighed as he slid off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then turned back to her. His jaw was clenched and his eyes seemed a little glazed over as he wordlessly held his arm out to her. He looked tired and defeated, but also restless and frustrated? She grasped his hand and turned it over, finding the jagged red line on his forearm. It looked rather shallow, already on its way to scabbing over and healing. Not something that required medical attention. Was that all? She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow to convey the question. He met her gaze, but then his eyes began travelling down, lingering on her lips, her neck, her- She squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back up, and staunchly ignored the heat that began to simmer in her chest at his look.

“It was Ivy,” he informed her, prompting her mind to begin racing through all the possibilities. Was it poison? How long had it been since she’d scratched him? Was he already experiencing side effects? Oh god, oh god.

“Do you know what it was?” Her heart thudded in her chest, her eyes wide with panic. For some reason though, he remained calm, retracting his hand from her grasp and waving off her concerns.

“It was nothing. Just something about falling madly in love with her?” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, the usual.” Oh no. Was that why he looked so distracted? Was he thinking about her? Or, no, had he done something with her? She shuddered at the thought, her stomach churning in horror.

“What happened?” she asked him reluctantly, regretting the question as soon as it fell out of her mouth. She covered her face with her hands, barely taking a breath between sentences. “No, wait. I don’t want to know. Just … just tell me nothing happened. Nothing happened, right? Oh god, please tell me nothing happened.” She peeked up at him from between her fingers, her eyes wide with fear at his anticipated response. Jason stayed silent, the corner of his lips curling into an amused smirk as he gazed down at her. Then, he took a step forward, forcing her to take one back.

“Well, the weirdest thing happened.” His voice was low, throaty, and he continued walking forward slowly, like a predator cornering his prey, knowing it had absolutely no chance of escape. “While her poison was running through my veins, all I could f*cking think about, was you.” He raised his arm, placing his hand on the wall her back was now pressed against, trapping her beneath him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel every breath he took, could see his pupils expanding as they fixed on her mouth, the blacks swallowing his irises whole. He lifted a hand to her cheek.

“I kept thinking,” he began, brushing his thumb over the full curve of her lips, “of all the sounds I could get this pretty little mouth to make.” She closed said mouth quickly, swallowing hard as he moved lower, his fingers leisurely tracing a path down her chest for his eyes to follow.

“Of all the parts of you I have yet to touch.” He tugged on the waistband of her pyjamas, his fingers brushing against her skin as he moved his lips to her ear. “Of what you would taste like, dripping wet in my mouth.”

She gasped as he pressed his lips against her neck and began making his way up to her ear, the warm, masculine scent of him washing over her entirely. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that this was a really, really bad idea, but then, then his hand was on her, stroking her, teasing her, his long, slender fingers taking their time exploring every inch of her.

“Jason,” she sighed breathlessly, prompting a low moan from him. The sound vibrated against her neck, sinking into her skin and curling around her very core. She bit her lip as her toes curled, and tilted her head involuntarily, giving his mouth even more access to- Wait a minute. Jason?! Her eyes flew open in horror as she came back to her senses. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She ducked out from under him and quickly slipped away, putting some distance between the two of them. Holy shit! Holy shit! And that was the only thing she could think as she looked everywhere but at him. “Okay, um … I think … Maybe you should just … Argh! Shit, Jason! I hate you so much!”

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling so very exposed. But he didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled that infuriating smirk again, the one that heated up all her insides until she felt like she was on fire. He moved forward.

“That's not what your body's telling me." He lifted his fingers, showing her how they glistened under the light. Then, not breaking her gaze, he lifted them to his mouth, and wrapped his tongue around them, licking off the sticky liquid. Her mouth went dry.

"N-No, I …" She tried to object, tried to tell him that it was a perfectly natural response for someone to have in such a situation, but then he'd backed her into the table, his hands on either side of hers as he leaned over her, his eyes drinking her in hungrily.

"Tell me," he murmured softly, his lips travelling along her jaw now, "do you think of me, when you touch yourself?"

She sucked in a breath, bracing herself against the table as her knees went weak.

"I hate to think that I'd kept you waiting for so long." He pressed a kiss to the base of her ear, then pulled back to look at her, his heavily-lidded eyes fixed on her lips. He leaned forward and brushed them with his own. And finally, he was kissing her, long and deep, his tongue tangling with her own. He slipped a muscular arm around her waist, pulling her hips flush against his, and her hands slid up the hard planes of his chest in response, wrapping tightly around his neck. She reached into his hair, burying her fingers in the soft strands as she moved her mouth in tandem with his. She was so entirely caught up in the feeling of him wrapped around her, in the delicious taste of him, that she didn't even notice him undo the string of her pyjamas until they'd fallen to the floor.

"Jason!" she exclaimed, squeezing her legs together to maintain some semblance of privacy. But he just smiled at her as he slid his hands down her back and squeezed, forcing a whimper out of her. Then he lifted her up, as if she weighed nothing at all, and sat her on the table, spreading her legs apart and wrapping them around his waist.

“Say my name again,” he told her, in between the kisses he pressed to her neck, "like you did the first time." His hands made their way up her bare thighs and slid under her shirt, his fingernails brushing along her back in just the way he knew she liked. She clenched her jaw and cursed him in her head, pressing her lips together tightly to keep his name from falling from them. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, she wouldn’t reward him for being so … so brazen with her! So bold and shameless and, oh god, so very, very good. He pulled back, his eyes travelling over the tension in her face, reading perfectly every single thought going through her mind right now. His jaw tightened as he gripped her chin in his hand gently, bringing their mouths closer together. Her eyelids lowered in anticipation, her lips parting for him of their own volition. But then, just when she thought he was about to kiss her again, just as she felt his warm breath graze her mouth, he grinded his hips into her, drawing a deep moan from her. Her toes curled as he did it again, his grasp on her face keeping her head from falling back in ecstasy, holding her in place so he could keep his gaze fixed on hers. He was going to drive her mad, this man.

“Say my name, X,” he repeated, his voice lazy, like he knew she was going to do it anyway; it was just a matter of when. She remained silent, firm in her resolution. But then, again, the bulk of him, driving into her, sliding against her so perfectly she didn't think she'd be able to resist anymore.

“J-Jason,” she breathed, the desperation in her own voice causing her stomach to flip. Oh god, she was going to kill him. She was going to kill Ivy and then she was going to kill him and bring him back to life and kill him again. He smiled and kissed her again, parting her lips with his tongue before brushing against her own and, oh god, it really was so extremely better than anything she’d ever imagined. He broke their kiss and brought his mouth to her ear, his warm breath blowing the strands of her hair back.

“For that,” he told her softly, “I’m going to lick your p*ssy until you come in my mouth.” She bit her lip, too flustered to respond to the wicked declaration. He took her silence as an invitation to continue, lowering himself to his knees before her. Then, oh god, then, he began licking her, his tongue tracing slow circles along the length of her clit. She closed her eyes and twisted her fingers in his hair, amazed at how intimately he knew her; when to speed up and when to slow down, when to suck and when to lick. She sucked in a breath, the pressure building inside her, washing over all her other senses until finally, it exploded in waves of pleasure that turned her brain numb. He stayed there for a second when it was over, gently cleaning up the mess he’d made of her before rising to stand before her. Her insides tingled as he met her gaze, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his pupils weren’t so excessively dilated anymore; the drug must have worn off. She reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Jason?” she asked him softly. “Are you okay? Has it worn off? Are we … done?” She didn’t breathe as she awaited his response, her heart beating so loudly she swore he’d be able to hear it in the thick silence that surrounded them. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking her in like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he looked at her and smiled, a wicked smirk that flipped her stomach over.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he began, wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her into his arms, “we’re just getting started.”

He'd carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed before taking his shirt off, his smooth, tan skin stretched firmly over his thick muscles, each line of his torso so perfectly defined as he leaned over her. She bit her lip at the sight and he grinned as he lowered himself to kiss her, his hand sliding along her waist and below her shirt as he did so. He squeezed her breast, causing her to pull on his bottom lip with her teeth and arch her back against him in response. He moved his hand to her lower back and pulled her tighter against him, groaning into her mouth as she ran her fingers along his spine, tracing the outlines of the muscles around his shoulder blades. He was so warm and so large and so … home. He was home. Her home. Jason pulled back, flashing her an exhilarated smile before he glided his hands up her torso and slipped off her shirt. And then she was bare before him, every inch of her exposed to his awestruck gaze. He sucked in a breath, speechless, and appraised her slowly, like he was trying to decide where to start. So she reached her hands up to him, gesturing for him to pull her up so she was on his lap, face to face with him. She smiled as she kissed him, a warm feeling filling her chest at the pure delight in his expression. How easy it was, to make him so happy. How wonderful it felt, to be the one to cause it. She kissed him harder, moving her waist against his, teasing him until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed her back onto the bed. He reached down to undo his belt, but she stopped him, a little bit nervous, a little bit excited. Sensing what she was thinking, he rolled over onto his back, giving himself over to her. She crawled on top of him, then took the belt off before removing his pants. She swallowed and paused. He was … wow … She’d never seen anyone before but … she had to assume he was big. The rest of him was, after all. But what should she do? How should she start? She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, messy strands of her hair falling into her eyes as she bit her lip against the blush rising rapidly in her cheeks.

“God,” he sighed as he looked at her. “You’re so f*cking beautiful.” And then she realised: she didn’t need to be sexy or confident or perfect. She just needed to be her. That was all he wanted. She leaned over him, letting the ends of her hair tickle his thighs as she twirled her finger around him. He gasped. Besides, he already knew everything about her; knew that she didn’t really have any experience when it came to this kind of thing. She lowered her face so she could brush her tongue against the tip of him and he let out a moan, low and tormented. But he’d be patient with her. Would let her take her time exploring and learning and make sure she knew that he’d always be right there, ready to spring into action if she ever needed any help. She closed her lips around him, wrapping her tongue around his tip and gliding it down before sucking on him and pulling back.

“X,” he groaned, his breaths coming out short and shallow. She didn’t seem to need help though. No. Because she knew him just as well as he knew her, and she knew exactly how to drive him crazy. She continued licking and sucking, taking her time to familiarise herself with every inch of his anatomy. And even when he began hardening, even when he was begging her, pleading with her, she maintained her pace, slow and steady, delighting in just how much it tortured him. Then she let him go, pushing herself up and away from him before he could go over the edge.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked him. The words came out casual, relaxed, and it pleased him to know that she felt so comfortable with him - especially since it was her first time. But oh god, how could she be so calm when he was literally losing his mind right now?! He’d thought his senses would have diminished slightly once the poison left his system, but holy shit, she was amazing. Every stroke of her tongue, every brush of her fingers, every single thing she did just took his breath away entirely. He inhaled deeply, drawing enough air into his lungs to speak.

“My belt,” he told her as he pushed himself up to gesture at it, his heart finally beginning to calm down. “Third pocket to the right.” She bent over the side of the bed to pick it up and, oh god, she really was so beautiful. Her long lashes, her curly hair, her soft curves. She reached into the pocket, but raised an eyebrow as she pulled out multiple packets.

“Do you just carry these around?” He shook his head immediately, quickly discerning the drop in her mood as she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“No no no no no no,” he reassured her, waving his hand emphatically. “I got them on the way here. Just for you. I just … grabbed whatever I could.” He really had. After he’d called Gordon to pick up Ivy, he’d raced to her flat, stopping only when he saw the neon lights of a pharmacy. Luckily, he’d still had enough sense in him to head in and grab a few condoms for protection. Thank god, or they would have had to stop right here. Her shoulders dropped at his admission and his muscles unclenched in response, relieved that she was at ease once again. But she kept her head lowered as she tore open the packet, preventing him from reading her expression.

“So, you just walked into a pharmacy, in full Red Hood regalia, and just bought a bunch of condoms?” She lifted her head, revealing to him the way her lips were curling at the corners in amusement. She slid the material onto him, her touch featherlight, tantalising in its tenderness. “Did anyone say anything?”

It was a hilarious image, Jason in his featureless red mask, bulky guns in his utility belt, striding into a little pharmacy with mums and teenage girls in his large combat boots, and then just throwing a bunch of condoms at the cashier. She snickered at the thought, unable to decide whether it was more adorable or more hot. But then he pushed himself onto his elbows, the muscles of his arms and torso flexing as he raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a lazy smirk. Her stomach flipped. Definitely more hot.

“Do you think anyone said anything?” Oh god. He was right. He was so, so right. No idiot would dare approach him when he was so confident and so terrifying and so … large. She moved to lie on top of him, kissing the smirk off his face like she’d imagined doing too many times before. Only now, she could actually do it. He slipped his hands around her as she wound her tongue around his and pushed him back down, his fingernails tracing idle circles along her lower back. He continued the gesture even after she pulled away and moved to rest her elbow beside his head, leaning on her hand to look at him.

“I would have,” she told him, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I’d have been so jealous. I’d just be like ‘what? You have a girlfriend? Sigh. There go all my fantasies’.” He smiled again, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and ran his hand down her spine.

“So you do fantasise about me.” His voice was husky as he spoke and she regretted the words almost immediately after they’d left her mouth.

“No! I just …” She pushed herself up into a seat, her cheeks setting aflame as she tried to backtrack on her statement. “Just, like, kissing and stuff. Not like, not anything like this, you know?” But it was too late. He was already looking at her with the most self-satisfied expression she’d ever seen on him. It was even worse than all the times he’d beat her in Battlefront. He flipped them over so he was on top of her again, his eyes roving over her hungrily.

“Like what?” he asked her teasingly, sliding his hands up her forearms and into hers, pinning her against the bed beneath him. “Like … this?” He rolled his hips against hers, drawing a gasp from her as he did so. Then he lowered his head, his lips a hair's breadth from hers.

"Or maybe like this?" He bent down to lick her breast, his tongue winding languidly around her nipple before he sucked on it. She tried to reach up, to run her fingers through his hair and down his back, to feel every inch of him pressed against her, but his hands were still on hers, holding her down so she was at his complete mercy. "Or what about this?"

He slid her hands together, trapping both her wrists beneath his palm so his other hand was free to roam down, to between her thighs, where his fingers began stroking her with agonising slowness. She whimpered and curled her legs tighter around him, silently pleading with him to go faster, harder. But he'd get his revenge now and, oh god, it would be sweet.

“J-J-Jason,” she breathed, her back arching off the mattress as he drove her closer and closer to her edge. It felt so good, his long, calloused fingers dragging up and down her length, occasionally stopping to circle her clit and press on the sensitive nub. But he was holding back, she could feel - just so he could torture her and regain the upper hand. He was such an idiot. But he was her idiot and no one in the entire world knew him as well as she did. She bit her lip and widened her eyes, fluttering her lashes pleadingly as she looked up at him.

“F*ck,” he groaned, feeling his resolve crumble at the look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” He sped up, increasing the intensity of his movements, his fingers chasing every desperate whine and gasp that fell from her lips as he stroked and pinched and played with her. Finally, with another last raise of her hips, she came, shaking against his hand as he held it firmly against her p*ssy, helping her ride out her orgasm. She looked up at him when she’d finished, her chest heaving with shallow breaths, her face flushed and glowing with pleasure. And he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful. He grinned and bent over to start kissing her again, releasing his grip on her so she could wrap her arms around him and pull him close. God, she felt so soft. He could have fallen asleep right then, cuddling her lush little body in his arms, but only if he wasn’t still so hard for her. He rolled his hips, rubbing his cock up and down her slick folds, lubricating himself with her c*m in preparation.

“J-Jason. Y-You know you’re … n-not going to fit, r-right?” she warned him, forcing the words out through the pleasure clouding her mind at the feeling of his large bulk pressing against her. God, she wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his deliciously thick cock pumping in and out of her as she sat on top of him, her fingers digging into his brawny shoulders as she grinded her hips into his. He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her bones and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“I don’t have to go in all the way, princess,” he mumbled against the side of her neck, his voice low and husky. “But, don’t you think I deserve a reward too? For working so hard tonight?” He tugged on her earlobe, sucking on it gently as he let his hands wander all over her body. He groaned as he flicked her nipple, then pinched it lightly between his fingers, rolling it before cupping her entire breast in his hand. Another loud moan fell from his lips as he squeezed her appreciatively, the movements of his hips getting faster and harder as his dick begged him for relief.

She sighed, flopping over on the bed as she gave up on trying to tease him. ‘You think you deserve a reward?,’ she’d imagined herself saying as she’d flipped them over once again. ‘What you deserve, Jason Peter Todd, is a punishment.’ But he just felt too effing good, rubbing up against her so needily.

“Just … Please?” She lifted her hips slightly, silently asking him to try, to give her the relief she so painfully needed as well. He ground his teeth together and dug his fingers into her sides, thrilled by the way her body pleaded for his. He sat back and took hold of himself, tracing her entrance with his tip. Then he began easing himself inside of her, slow and careful, even though it physically ached to have to hold himself back, especially when he’d gotten in far enough to feel how f*cking tight and soft she was.

“S-So … You’re so f*cking tight, X,” he breathed, his mind going fuzzy at the delectable feeling of her engulfing him. She squirmed and writhed as he tried to push in more, yelping in pain at the unfamiliar sensation of having him inside of her p*ssy. So he stopped, swearing under his breath when he looked down and saw half of his dick nestled so comfortably inside of her. He braced his arms on either side of her, steadying himself as he pulled out then thrust himself back inside of her, only going as far as she could take him. She yelped every time he pushed in, her breasts bouncing up and down as he worked his way inside of her. F*ck, she was so, so perfect. How the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her? Why the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her?

“Gonna … Gonna f*ck you … every night, sweetheart,” he told her, her bed creaking with the force of his movements. “Until you can … take my dick into this … this f*cking tight little … p*ssy of yours.” She probably didn’t even hear him given how loudly she kept moaning and whining at the feeling of him brushing against her walls. F*ck, she was cute. But then she shuddered, her p*ssy squeezing him as she came, her walls throbbing and clenching around him desperately. He clenched his teeth, his entire body tensing up at the sensation, and then he came too, his fingers tangling in the bed sheets as the warm liquid gushed out of him. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath once he’d finished, delighting in the way she’d flopped over beneath him, thoroughly exhausted by his actions. He bent over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then pulled himself out of her and sank onto the mattress beside her. She sighed and turned to face him, the both of them studying each other with elated grins on their faces as they lay side by side.

“I love you too, X.”

“I love you, Jason.” Normally, the words would flow out of her mouth casually, a consistent reminder that there was at least one person who cared about him, at least one person who kept him in their heart. But now she curled into herself as she said, her lips curling into a shy smile as her eyes flickered to and from his. He grinned even harder, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand.

Ugh! What time was it? She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight filtering in between the curtains. She felt a weight on her side and rolled herself onto her stomach to look at Jason. Where he’d normally have awakened at the smallest of movements, his eyes stayed closed and his breathing remained steady. He looked so peaceful and untroubled and irritatingly cute with the white strands of hair falling over his smooth forehead and the relaxed set of his lips that she now knew the feel of all over her body. She sucked in a breath, her stomach flipping over wildly as the memory of last night - as all the memories of last night - came flooding back to her. She swallowed hard the thought, then turned back around slowly, careful to not disrupt the arm draped lazily over her waist. Maybe, if she could just get up before he did, she could convince him that it had all been one crazy dream. She assessed the open space before her, considering her two options. She could either a) try to wiggle out beneath the grasp of a trained assassin, or b) make a run for it as quickly as possible. She leapt forward without a second thought, throwing herself off the bed and crashing straight into the brick wall that was his arm, immediately pulling her back into his chest. She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose, clenching her teeth as she waited for his response.

“Did you just try to one-night stand me? In your own bedroom?” His incredulous tone was dampened by the sleep still clouding his voice as he mumbled in her ear. She clenched her teeth around the way his warm breath glided over her spine and curled around her stomach. Betrayed by her own body. Again. She huffed and turned over to face him.

“No,” she replied firmly. “I was going to try to convince you that everything that happened last night was just a hallucination because of the poison that Ivy injected you with.” She glared at him and he grinned, only causing her frown to deepen in response. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, admiring how soft and pretty she looked in the morning light.

“In that case, I guess I’d just have to kidnap her and get her to poison me everyday for the rest of my life.” She wrinkled her nose at his declaration, horrified by the very thought. Did he really like her that much? Had he always liked her that much?

“Every day?!” X smacked his arm. “You’re such a creep.” But she snuggled into his chest anyway as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her. And for once in his life, Jason finally understood what it felt like to come home.

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